"I could kiss you right now."
“I could kiss you right now.”
“Can it wait till they stop shooting at us?”
“Maybe,” Abby answers as she sheds the last of her bonds and grabs Marcus’ extra pistol from his waist, “rescuing a girl from the hands of a French sadist calls for lots of kissing.”
Her grin lights up her face and he feels his resolution to resist her fade into the background.
“I’ll try to remember that for next time,” he retorts with a grin but their banter is cut short by ricocheting gunfire.
She’s searching for an escape route, a hatch, a door, or a window, and he’s buying her time with a quickly diminishing amount of ammunition.
“There!” She exclaims and brings her own pistol up to scatter the guards.
Turning around, she fires three shots into the glass window across the hall and waves Marcus forward. They are through the window and rolling in glass covered grass in only a few seconds while the stamping of feet reminds them they are not in the clear. Scrambling upright, Marcus grabs Abby’s hand and runs for the getaway vehicle tucked safely in the woods. The black SUV is still there. Marcus drives and Abby ducks down in the front seat as they speed away from the small chateau where her torture took place. She takes time to flip the building the bird as they successfully escape. They are a mile or so back to town when Abby starts shaking and it takes reaching their safe-house before her body gives out completely and Marcus is forced to carry her up the stairs to her bed.
She startles awake when he lays her down, a hand reaching out to stop his departure.
“You never got your kiss,” she whispers, a ghost of a smile on her tired face.
He leans down carefully and plants a soft kiss to her forehead, “sleep Abby. We have tomorrow.”
