Make Me Say It Read Free Page A

placed one of the two backpacks he carried on the dirt near the barn door. He cautiously removed the chain and opened the door. A bar of sunlight penetrated the gloom. He looked up. Her pale face appeared over the edge of the loft, the light turning her hair into a red-gold halo around her head.
    “Jake?” she whispered.
    He picked up the backpack and quickly and silently moved past the drugged dogs. One of them—Wilhelm—stirred slightly, and Jake’s heart flew into his throat. Harper gave a little groan from above him. She’d seen the dog move, too.
    “It’s okay,” he assured himself as much as her as he flew up the ladder. “Wilhelm twitches in his sleep all the time.”
    “Stop,” she said in a quivering voice.
    He halted and glanced up in surprise. He was only three feet from the edge of the loft. She peered down anxiously, her long hair draping her face.
    “I don’t have any clothes on,” she reminded him desperately. She was on her knees, looking down at him. He could see the tops of her bare shoulders, and was reminded that her hands were bound behind her back.
    “I have clothes for you in my backpack,” he explained. He remained still, rapidly working through some potential scenarios as to how to minimize her embarrassment and just as quickly dismissing each one as soon as he had it. “I’m sorry, but I have to come up there in order to untie your hands . . .” He faded off when he saw her distress. He couldn’t even tell her to cover herself, because she couldn’t with her hands bound behind her. Harper realized that, too, of course.
    She nodded once stiffly.
    He scurried up the ladder, hearing her scoot back into the shadows as he did so. She didn’t say anything, but he sensed how wild she was to remain invisible. He kept his eyes averted as he removed some old jeans, a large T-shirt, and some socks from his backpack. He had to look up to locate her in the loft, though. Her pale skin shone, even in the shadows. He gritted his teeth in resolve and walked toward her. Moving as quickly as he could to minimize her humiliation and his own discomfort, he knelt behind her and went directly to work with his pocketknife multi-tool on the twisted rope that bound her wrists. After a moment, she whimpered softly.
    His mouth twisted in fury. Damn Emmitt. He’d used the roughest hemp rope he possibly could have to tightly bind her. Her wrists were abraded, both her skin and the hemp smeared with blood. “I know, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, because in his efforts to free her, he couldn’t help twisting the rope into her surface cuts.
    “It’s okay. Just get it off me,” she said in a choked voice.
    A torturous moment later, the length of rope fell to the loft floor. She cried out in pain when her arms fell forward. They’d been bound behind her for so long, lowering them hurt.
    “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said, springing up and coming around to the front of her. He reached down, grasping her upper arms.
    “No,” she whispered, wincing in pain. “Put the shirt on me first.”
    “But—”
    She looked up, a beam of sunlight illuminating her upper face, allowing him to see not just her despair, but her determination.
    He immediately bent to the floor of the loft and lifted his old Mountaineers T-shirt. He shoved it over her head gracelessly. She tried to lift her hands to get them in the armholes. Her moan of pain pierced him.
    “Help me,” she whispered, grimacing. Her arms weren’t functional yet, after being bound behind her for so long.
    He grabbed one of her fisted hands. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, cringing at the pained expression on her face as he lifted her hand and poked it through the armhole. She sighed in relief when she could lower her arm.
    “They’re prickling,” she muttered, referring to her arms. “It hurts so bad.”
    “The nerves are waking up. It’ll get better soon,” Jake said in a hushed tone, scrambling to free her trapped hair from the shirt.