05 Desperate Match Read Online Free Page B

over–stuffed backpack on the floor near the side table.
    “Jill,” he tried again. “Something’s going on. Maybe we’re not a match, but it seems like you might need a friend.” She didn’t respond and hefted the heavy backpack over one shoulder. She didn’t try to hide the wince as the bag landed hard against her back. She stepped toward the door, but he backed up faster, blocking it.
    “Rowan, move.”
    “No.”
    She pushed at him and then backpedaled several steps as if shocked she’d dared manhandle someone several inches and pounds larger than her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye. He hated scaring her like this, because it was suddenly obvious Jill had too much experience with a man pushing her around. Unfortunately, he couldn’t let her leave without offering to help.

    Jill stood outside of striking range from the tall soldier looming over her. Though if he were going to retaliate, she’d have nowhere to go in this tiny room. She could tell he was fast. He’d catch her if she tried to blow past him and out the door, out of the compound and back to the car she’d left by the side of the road three miles away when it had run out of gas. Her panties held fifty precious dollars in a Ziploc on her right butt cheek. It was uncomfortable as hell, but she hadn’t known if they’d allow her to keep her backpack full of clothes when she came onto The Program campus.
    It was everything she had in the world.
    “Jill,” Rowan said, trying to get her to talk to him. There was no point. He was correct; nothing good was going to come of this meeting. She was such a fool. She’d bet the farm on finding her safety net at The Program and now her net had snapped. She didn’t know where to go or what to do next. “Jill, are you in trouble?”
    If his voice hadn’t been so kind, maybe she could’ve ignored his question. She could scream for help, march out of the campus and keep marching. Food, shelter, money—all those petty problems—could be dealt with later. But Rowan’s voice was kind, sympathetic. Even with his disabled body, he looked strong and capable, and his face was handsomer than any other man she’d ever met.
    She stumbled backward onto the couch and curled up with her arms wrapped around her legs. She was so screwed. By now, Jack would know the car was missing, and he’d guess that she’d tried to run away. Either she was in for the beating of her life, or she’d have to find a safe haven with the clothes on her back and fifty dollars in a plastic baggie.
    Rowan pulled up the chair and straddled it close enough so they could whisper to each other, but not enough that she felt threatened. “Jill, who hit you?” he asked.
    She rested her chin on her knees and looked him in the eye. “My husband,” she whispered.
    Silence.
    “You’re married?”
    She nodded.
    “You applied to The Program to be matched to a soldier even though you’re married?”
    She forced herself to nod again, knowing and hating what kind of person her admission made her.
    Rowan surprised her when he pursed his lips. “Must be pretty desperate, huh?”
    A half–sob, half–laugh forced its way out of her mouth. “Yeah. You could say that.” She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve, then noted the box of tissues on the little table next to her. She grabbed up a handful. “You must think I’m a horrible person. I mean, what kind of woman tries to”—she fluttered a hand at him—“have sex with a stranger when she’s already legally married?”
    “A woman who thought she had no other option,” he said.
    The dam on her sobs broke, and for long minutes she huddled on the couch crying six years’ worth of pain. Rowan let her. At some point, he moved next to her on the couch, rubbing her back and handing her fresh tissues when he deemed it necessary.
    Finally when she thought she could breathe again without crying, she wadded up the soggy