Shackled Ch. 05

He stopped in front of a doorway and she crashed into him.

"Hey, it's only fifty meters we have to keep to," he said looking at her. Then he smiled. "Not that I mind...."

They stood in the doorway and she hung onto him, getting her breath back.

"Shit, if I'd known you were the nerdy scientific type, then I would have asked you what the plan was."

He held her lightly by the shoulders while she regained her breath. She was worried.

Who wouldn't be? But most people didn't have Liam Hansen looking after them.

Her eyes started to well up and she looked like she was going to cry. It was all starting to hit her now.

Shit. Don't cry.

"Hey. We got out of that and we'll get out of this," he said. "I hate crying ok, it uses up valuable energy, so stop it," he said trying to sound like he didn't care, but he didn't feel like he was very convincing. She looked....

....lost.

"My place isn't so far from here. We'll go there and then we can rest up and think about what to do," he said. He kept looking at her. "And, I reckon if I'm going to keep acting like Don Quixote, then you owe me an explanation. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

She looked at him as if she didn't believe him.

"Don't worry. My place is safe. No one knows about it," he said.

He winked at her.

"I better correct myself. It's safe from the SPF's, but you'll still have to contend with me!"

He took her hand, squeezed it and started to move out of the doorway.

"Ready for the second heat?" he said.

He pulled her and started to run.

Again.

"By the way," he said over his shoulder to her and smiling, "We haven't discussed the pay for this job."

****

He was being sweet and she appreciated that. Even if he was trying to sound all rough and tough, by the look on his face she could tell that he wasn't quite accomplishing the task. She smiled slightly, not quite believing that she could be lucky enough to find a dry spot for the night or even a couple of hours. If she had to pick between SPF and him, right now he won hands down, but she wouldn't admit that to him. At least not yet.

Before she had a chance to respond, he was tugging her out into the street again. She groaned, pushing her body to keep up with his. "I don't believe you were really giving me a choice! I'm not sure that I'm up for paying you if these services continue to keep me cold and wet."

He let out a chuckle, flashing her a grin. "How about warm and wet?"

This instantly brought color to her face. "Smartass." But that was enough to keep her moving. As they reached the dimly lit streets, he slowed slightly. "Oh thank god." She sighed as they slowed to walk and he tugged her close to his side. Still holding hands, most would have taken them for random lovers, even if it was a bit strange that they were both drenched and still walking in the poring rain.

Her feet were screaming and legs crying for a break by the time she pushed her through a rotting abandoned building in the midst of an area she wouldn't have dream of venturing through alone or at all for that matter. Huddled close to his side, she gave him a bewildered look. "Please tell me this isn't home sweet home."

"Ye have little faith, Irish." He muttered, tugging her over broken glass and god knows what else hidden by the darkness. Something flickered, making her blink and focus on his free hand. A lighter. Great. By the flickering flame, he pulled her through several crumbling sections, before reaching a heavy steel door that was heavily decorated with graffiti.

Letting go, she watched him muscle the door open, usher her inside and down the first few steps. Soon he joined her, shutting it behind before flicking on an overhead light. The light buzzed, flickered and complained a moment before shedding light on their situation. "Interesting digs." She murmured softly as he secured the door and the lead the way down the narrow stairwell to what she could only describe as an underground lair.

It seemed like the greatest of plans to lock himself down under ground. What if SPF found it? How did he get out? The explosion earlier made her smile to herself. Probably blow his way out. She bit back a small laugh, too tired to fire off any more questions. It wasn't the swanky by any means, but she had to hand it to the guy, it was fairly clean and functional. It was one large room flanked with cabinets, all of which seemed to have the same steely gray color. Weapons decorated the wall above the large unmade bed and on the far end, she spotted what looked like a small kitchenette area, some of the counter space used as a makeshift desk and a small blocked off gray box which she could only assume was the bathroom. It looked a little on the spartan side, but she wouldn't have expected anything more from him.

For a moment her eyes shifted to his back as he slowly stripped off his wet shirt and plopped in unceremoniously on the floor. "Hey, I'm not picking up your dirty socks." She teased and looked away, sitting her button the edge of a step to removed her sopping wet sneakers.

****

Hansen felt better with his shirt off. He went to the wall, flicked the switch and a fan began to whir in the ceiling.

"What?" he said, "You don't do laundry?"

He saw her looking up at the ceiling. He was sure she was thinking that not many people had heaters in this part of town.

"It's hooked up to the gas line. I tapped it in a few years ago. So it's free," he smiled.

He went to one of the cupboards and pulled out two towels. She was sitting down on the entrance steps, removing her wet shoes. He threw her one and then started to dry himself down. His jeans were wet too. There was nothing he could do about that, but remove them,. He pulled them off and threw them down next to his shirt and continued to wipe himself down.

He went to another cupboard and pulled out a black t shirt, a fresh pair of jeans and underwear.

Well, here goes, he thought.

He turned around next to the kitchen bench to preserve what modesty he could and pulled his underwear off. He gave himself a quick wipe and then put on the dry pair of jocks.

He saw her looking at him when he turned around.

"Hey, Irish, don't tell me you've never seen that before," he said. He paused for a while and then the side of his mouth crooked up in a smile. "Oh, you've seen it before, but you've never seen it this good before."

He laughed. He enjoyed teasing her and making her feel uncomfortable.

Maybe I can get used to people again.

"Anyway, you want something to eat or drink? I'm having a beer and I'm happy to make you a sandwich," he said. "Just a little one for you. Don't want you getting fat and not being able to run." He winked.

He looked her over on the step. She really was beautiful in a natural way. Smart and beautiful.

Maybe I could really get used to people again....

"Sorry," he said, "but as surprising as it may sound, I don't get much female company here. You're free to borrow one of my t shirts and we'll hang your clothes under the heater. They should dry in a few hours."

He went to the fridge and pulled out two beers. He threw one to her. He hadn't even put on his t shirt and jeans yet and he was enjoying her looking at him.

He went to the cupboard, pulled out the largest t shirt he had and threw it to her as well.

He had a big grin on his face.

"You can change in the bathroom, but it's a bit tight. When you're ready, let me know and I'll turn around. But be warned, I'm not entirely trustworthy."

He started laughing.

****

"I do, just not yours." She said, poking out her tongue as she peeled off her socks and then glanced up at the ceiling. The warmth that flooded the room made her sigh. It felt so good, she wanted to strip herself and just stand under it, but that would have definitely giving him ideas. That that she considered herself that much to look at.

When her gaze moved back down, she seemed caught in the site of his naked body. Even though the important bits were covered, more or less, for a moment he stole her breath and she stared, mouth slightly agape.

She giggled nervously and quickly snapped her gaze away, standing and standing awkwardly in his space, his domain and creating a little puddle on his floor. When he mentioned food, she almost drooled on herself, taking his banter with a grain of salt and a smile. "But don't you know, I like'em big." She told him, surprised at herself once again. Her face heated again at her own naughty little joke, catching the beer he threw her way and then the shirt that hit her square in the face.

Taking her drink to the kitchen, she set it aside, watching him move around her as he began to prep a couple of sandwiches. "Um...I hate to keep taking advantage of your hospitality, but...I don't suppose I could use your shower for just a minute? It has been a few days and well..."

"Knock yourself out, Irish. I promise not to peek...much."

Since there was no door, she could see where modesty had to be thrown out the window. Thankfully the shower wasn't in full view, but one little glance around the corner and voila! Her treats would be on display, but the need to get clean over road her modesty in that moment. "OK...I'm um, stripping."

Squirming and wiggling out of her clothes, she plopped them down, taking her panties and bra along, figuring they could use a good scrubbing anyway. Inside the tiny bathroom, she stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water, letting out a surprise yelp as cold water hit her already cold skin. Fuck! No hot water! Gritting her teeth she grabbed the sliver of soap he had left and stripped off her undies, scrubbing herself up and then her underwear as best as possible. His shampoo was just as bare, but she managed to lather and rinse, feeling better knowing she didn't smell rank anymore...at least by her standards.

Ringing out her under things, she set them aside and quickly towels herself off, her teeth shattering in her head as she struggled into his too big t-shirt which hung around her knees. Still...she felt completely naked and vulnerable.

Slowly she walked out, glancing around to find him sitting on the bed Indian style, sipping on his beer and chowing down. Wet clothes in hand, she went to hang them up as he instructed and then grabbed her own meal, walking to the bed and sinking slowly to the edge of it. Her body was still trembling, lips a little off colored, but she felt better than she had in days. "Thank you."

****

Cheeky sod.

Hansen got to work on the sandwiches. He had some rye bread and not much else. Mrs. Chan had given him a cold chicken for helping her clean her shop after vandals had sprayed the front of it and that would have to do for a filling. If they were going to be hunkered down longer, then he'd have to think about food tomorrow. He had plenty of beer, but survival on that would be difficult. He knew; he'd tried it.

He heard her draw her breath in sharply when the cold water hit her and he chuckled again.

"You'll get used to it," he called out to her as he walked to the fridge, but he didn't think she heard him. He could have taken a quick peek at her on his way to fetch the chicken, but he didn't think that was fair and it was no way to build trust. Much to his surprise, he really did like her. She'd coped well with everything that had been thrown at her and she'd retained her spirit. She was going to have tell him what was going on, but he figured a shower and the warmth of the room would make her feel comfortable. There was plenty of time for that.

He made a couple of chicken sandwiches for them each. He took another couple of beers from the fridge and set one next to her sandwich on the counter and then he went and sat on the bed to start his dinner. Well, at one a.m it wasn't really dinner, but he needed to stop that gnawing in his stomach.

She walked out in his t shirt and it hung down to her knees. He chuckled to himself again. She looked freshly scrubbed and attractive, except her lips were blue.

It's hard being on the run. Wait till you've been doing it for years.

"You'll warm up soon enough," he said looking at her with a wry grin.

He hadn't bothered to put his jeans and t shirt on yet, but he figured if she was going to wear just a t shirt then there wasn't too much between them now anyway.

She got her meal from the bench and sat down. "Thank you," she said and began to eat.

"Don't mind me with the beers," he said, "but I do tend to like a few, ah, 'tranquilizers' of an evening. You don't have to keep up, otherwise you might pass out. We might need to run again tomorrow and it's murder with a hangover."

He looked at her sitting on the edge of the bed.

You're a pretty one, Irish.

He finished a mouthful of his sandwich and washed it down with a beer. He studied her sitting on the bed as he ate. He always ate and drank slowly and chewed every mouthful very carefully. He was trying to think, but he really needed to know why they wanted her.

"So, Irish, er, I mean Emma. You say you're a scientist. Now, I know I'm a charming hunk of a man, but why did I really run into you tonight?" he said. "And why do they want to kill you?"

He sat back and continued with his food.

Ball's in your court, Irish. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on.

He waited.