to soothe.
Yet she did feel comforted by his touch, reassured by his gentleness. It might be a naive, horrible trap to fall into, but Sinjun’s touch gave her strength.
Enough strength to realize that, no matter his motive for keeping her identity a secret, she needed to play along in order to survive the next few minutes of her life.
She made no protest when he guided her down to the sleeping bag.
“Act like you’re asleep.” He brushed her hair down so it hid her face, then covered her with the blanket. “Keep your face to the wall and don’t move. In this light, I don’t think anyone will question your identity.”
“Why are you doing this?”
For the first time she could hear voices at the top of the stairs. Lenny’s deep one. Jerome’s nasty laugh. And a third man—someone soft-spoken and deliberate with his words. Ellie huddled in the shadows, staring at the rusted-out furnace. At first she didn’t think Sinjun would answer her.
But then she heard his velvety voice, blending in with the darkness around them. “We all have our own agendas.”
The door opened and Ellie closed her eyes.
What was Sinjun’s agenda?
And had she just been transferred from one untenable situation to another now that she was completely at his mercy?
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