Free Unbreakable by Emma Scott Page B

shoulder. I’d rather listen to her breathe than sleep.
    For the millionth time that night, I fought the urge to put my arm around her and let her rest against my chest. Bad idea. I was already having a hard enough time keeping my thoughts in check. No need to torture my body too.
    But god, she was beautiful. Her hair was a red color I’d never seen, not naturally anyway. A deep red with threads of gold. If it came out of a bottle—and I’d stake my life it didn’t—then it was a pro job. I wanted to see what it looked like under the summer sun instead of these ugly fluorescents. I wanted to pull it loose from the damn pins or whatever she used to keep it tightly coiled to her head. I wanted to run my fingers through it, grip it, and tilt her face to mine so that I could watch that mouth of hers part for me as I kissed her in a way I bet her stuffy fiancé couldn’t.
    My groin tightened and I killed those kinds of thoughts immediately. Stupid. Stupid and futile.
    I sighed.
    It was crazy how fast it happened. The physical attraction took all of three seconds. That was easy to explain. But how she had become so important to me, so quickly, I had no fucking clue. But right now, locked away from everyone I loved, she was all I had. And I was all she had. At least in here. What happened after was after. We’d get out of this and life would go back to normal. She’d go her way and I’d go mine. The thought brought a tinge of pain deep in my chest but I brushed it aside. It was inevitable, and I knew well enough by now not to waste time whining over what I couldn’t change.
    Alex stirred against me, and I watched her awaken. She blinked against the harsh lights, and stretched her neck, wincing slightly. I said nothing, just watched her, and my suddenly overactive imagination wondered what it would be like waking up next to her in a bed instead of this goddamned bank.
    She jerked fully awake, struggling to get her bearings. I watched her exquisite face morph from confusion, to fear, then panic, as if she’d lost something. She whipped her head toward me, and a ghost of a relieved smile touched her lips as she found me, and my stupid heart beat madly for it.
    “I thought it was all a bad dream,” she murmured. “But for you…” She must’ve realized what she’d said. She made a face and swatted my arm. “You were supposed to wake me.”
    “Was I?”
    “We had a deal.”
    “You looked like you needed the rest.”
    “And you could have slipped into a coma or something. Or worse.”
    “The cut’s not that bad. I didn’t sleep anyway.” I couldn’t help but grin at the scowl on her face. “But thanks for the concern.”
    She scoffed, and I thought she might give me hell, but she smiled instead. Gorgeous. Not a bad start to the day, I thought, given the circumstances.
    But damn, the day passed with agonizing slowness. No one said much. No food was given. Everyone was starting to show the wear of the ordeal. Their faces were lined with fear, drawn from hunger. The water the monster squad gave us was enough to keep us alive and hardly more. There was a notepad in the desk drawer and Roy had a pen in his shirt pocket. We played hangman or wrote notes to loved ones. Carol, Gil, and Roy played Twenty Questions. Alex stretched, touching her forehead to her knees as she gripped her feet. Some kind of yoga thing. It was all her business skirt and jacket would allow her to do. Thank God.
    As the day drew to a close and night came on—such as we could tell—Sylvie began to cry. “How much longer is this going to go on?”
    “Good question,” Ray said, his bluster watered down now. “Why aren’t the cops doing anything? Why aren’t they storming the place or paying to get us out?”
    “Because paying for us would set a bad precedent,” Gil the pharmacist said. “You know? Not negotiating with terrorists?”
    Roy snorted. “So they’re just going to let us starve? Or wait until they shoot us all?”
    “Calm