The tunnel rumble grew in volume until her escape hole belched out a cloud of dirt that blew all over her.
She covered her face and kept her mouth shut.
Sweaty grime slicked her body.
She’d gone through worse today but still spit dirt to the side of her face and started breathing through her nose.
Amazingly, the decrepit structure around her remained intact after all that.
More loud noises boomed.
Could that be another bomb? Rain began falling through the canopy of leaves, sneaking past the holes above her.
She listened to the repeat of the second boom. Ah. That last noise had been thunder.
The drizzle picked up speed, splattering her face and body. She welcomed the refreshing feel of fresh water. It washed away the mud and vulnerable feeling from being in that basement.
She’d survived this attempt. A win was a win.
But she still had to get back to Phoebe.
What about the green-eyed badass? Had he survived?
She’d heard him calling to her and, like an idiot, she’d paused. Bigger idiot, she’d almost gone back to warn him again to leave. But she could hear Coop screaming in her mind to never slow down when on the run.
If he stood here now, Coop would hug her even as he admonished, “Too close, Hellie.”
Those days of having him to comfort her were gone.
He might be here if he had been more cautious, but that had never been his nature. That was why he’d kept her at arm’s length as a friend only.
Wandering around in that mental minefield would only get her hurt. Again.
Hallene had to stay focused on finding Phoebe. If she didn’t get Phoebe back, she’d end up burying another part of her soul. Her mother had kept Hallene up on Phoebe, constantly trying to connect the two of them. No telling what she’d told Phoebe about Hallene since they only had polite conversations when visiting their mother.
With adrenaline draining away, Hallene’s body ached from personal treatment in the Cyclops salon. Her head throbbed where she’d been hit when she found Phoebe. She lifted her fingers to the cut on the side of her head. The blood had dried around a goose-egg shape. Not too bad. Hair would cover it.
Time to get moving even if her body wasn’t onboard yet.
She’d leap to her feet the minute she felt that renewed burst of energy.
Slowly struggle her way upright would be more like it.
Maybe just one more minute to catch her second or third wind. Seconds ticked by as she reveled in being alive. Her hand dropped to her chest, reminding her she wore the soft black T-shirt.
After being ogled by that scum Cyclops, her hot rescuer had treated her like a fully dressed woman. She still couldn’t believe he had kept his gaze up on her face. Not because she considered herself a knockout, but she knew men. Their eyes sometimes separated from their brains in front of a naked woman.
Not her badass. He seemed to understand how a woman in that situation would feel even worse to be ogled.
Respect was sexy in a man.
She’d been mentally ordering herself to not feel like prey, to not give Cyclops a second of pleasure, and to avoid any thought of not leaving that basement alive.
Like Coop had said, mind over matter is often the only thing between dying and walking away from a bad op.
In that moment, when the stranger had handed her his T-shirt, she’d been surprised at not being treated as just a naked victim.
Badass with a moral compass.
