Shiver

to block it out. He was conscious of his heart thumping. His pulse pounded in his ears. He was swallowing air through his mouth now, drawing in what little there was in greedy gulps, trying to keep his head clear. Thanks to her, it looked like they might actually have a shot at making a stand. But even if she was able to cut him free in time, he was still going to need a miracle to get them both out of this alive. His ears were acutely attuned to the various sounds outside the trunk. They were still rolling, but that wouldn’t last forever. When the vehicle came to a stop—
    She said, “You want to tell me who you are and why you’re in a car trunk?” Sawing away, she caught him in the wrist with the blade again. He needed to be free too badly to make so much as a sound.
    “I’m the unluckiest son of a bitch in the country?” Danny tried, feeling the sudden release of a portion of the pressure around his wrists like a gift from on high. Then he remembered the state he was in, and didn’t know whether to laugh or howl. Unarmed, weak from blood loss, beat to pieces, with a bullet through his thigh and a possibly broken finger and countless other injuries he hadn’t even begun to try to catalog, he was going to be a hell of a warrior, for sure.
    But he was going to give it his best shot. Aside from really, truly not wanting to die tonight, now he had this girl to protect.
    “Is that supposed to be an answer?” Voice edgy, she was already sawing through the second zip tie. She stopped sawing as she spoke. He could almost feel her frowning at him.
    Jesus, this wasn’t the moment for attitude. The close, airless confines of the trunk were zapping what little strength he had remaining to him. The thought of what was waiting beyond it scared him to the bone.
    “Keep cutting that tie. If you want to have a chance of living through this, I need to be free to move before they open that trunk again.”
    “Do you have a name? Or not?” But at least she comprehended enough of the desperateness of the situation to start sawing away again.
    “You don’t need a name. All you need to know is that I’m the guy who’s going to keep you alive, all right?” He thought about that for a second. “At least, if you hurry and I can.”
    The smallest of pauses. “Oh, wow, now I feel all safe.”
    The sarcasm was absolutely deserved, and might even have made him smile under less harrowing conditions. As reassurance, he had to admit that his probably too truthful promise left something to be desired. But at least she was still working that knife against the tie.
    “So can you tell me why you’re in this trunk?” she asked.
    He’d give her this much: she didn’t give up. At the moment, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.
    “You don’t want to know,” Danny said. “Believe me. The less you know, the safer you are.”
    She snorted. “Like anything you tell me is going to make a difference now?”
    Okay, so she was smart enough to realize that she was in deep shit however this played out.
    “All you need to remember is that helping me is helping yourself,” he said. “We’re on the same team.”
    She made a skeptical sound. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for that?”
    “You got any alternative?”
    The second tie broke, which happy circumstance he thought distracted her from answering. God almighty, his hands were free! Relief was accompanied by lightning bolts of pain shooting up his arms, into his shoulders, then firing back down into his hands, as the position into which they had been forced abruptly eased. Gritting his teeth against a groan, Danny brought his arms around in front of him, moving slowly, gingerly shaking his hands out, flexing his fingers as best he could.
    The beating he’d endured before they’d pistol-whipped him senseless had done some damage to his hands, that was for sure. How much, he didn’t have time to assess.
    “Give me the knife.” He thrust his hand behind him to receive it, ignoring the searing pain that attacked him as he moved.
    “Why?” Sudden suspicion laced her voice.
    Was it his imagination, or was the car slowing down? The swaying was definitely less pronounced.
    “Why do you think? Oh, are you worried I’m going to turn around and attack you with it? I’m not, okay? I’ve got two more ties around my ankles. You can’t reach them. So give me the knife. ”
    The sound she made defied interpretation, but she pressed the