Consumed by Fire

Author:Stuart, Anne [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2015-05-26T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Inside, the RV wasn’t much bigger than Annabelle had been when you took the front seat into account. The U-shaped dinette was on the right side of the camper, as well as the stove and sink, followed by an angled door that signaled a bathroom at the end. On the left side was a single bed, more kitchen equipment, a chair on the other side of the door, and a bed platform above the front seats. They were fairly standard features, except that everything inside was brand-new, and state of the art, instead of rusty and broken-down as the outside suggested. There was also a built-in flat screen with machines beneath it, and she suspected it wasn’t for watching movies.

He gave her a little shove from behind, and she almost stumbled. Merlin, being much more of a gentleman, waited for her, then paced past her and stood guard behind the driver’s seat. Bishop followed her in and shut the door behind her, closing them into utter darkness.

It happened so fast she couldn’t control it. From out of nowhere panic clamped down over her like a smothering blanket, freezing her in place.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Bishop demanded.

She pushed back against him, suddenly desperate. “I have to get out of here,” she said breathlessly.

“Too fucking bad. This is your home for the next few days and I . . .”

“You don’t understand,” she choked out. “I can’t breathe. I have to . . .”

He opened the door, and she rushed past him, forgetting the pain in her leg. She tripped and landed on her knees on the hard dirt, but it didn’t matter. She could breathe, and she felt the warm night breeze begin to wash the clamminess from her skin.

Merlin was making distressed sounds, but Bishop must have ordered him to stay in the RV. He was looming over her in the darkness, and she knew she should get to her feet, to lessen the height difference and her own horrible sense of powerlessness, but she couldn’t. What the hell was wrong with her? She was strong; she didn’t suddenly fall apart like this.

Bishop was looking down at her, and she could sense his irritation but she didn’t give a damn. “Since when have you been claustrophobic?” he drawled. “I’m not in the mood for games, Angel.”

She was having trouble talking as well as breathing, and it took her a moment to find her voice. “Never,” she gasped. “It just hit me.”

“How convenient.” He reached down and hauled her up, and she managed to get her feet under her. His hands were tight on her arms. “You’re getting in there and you’re going to behave yourself or I’ll tie you up again, and this RV comes equipped with more advanced things than duct tape.”

She’d gotten at least a portion of her self-control back. “I’ll be all right.” At least she hoped so. She had no idea where this sudden panic had come from. Not that she didn’t have a dozen or more reasons, including the man beside her.

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