Chapter 19

NINETEEN

T ruman took the brunt of the fall, but as they hit, he lost his grip on her, and she went rolling. She cried out when her wrist twisted, caught under her momentum, and her finger bent the wrong way.

The air had been knocked from her lungs, and she could barely suck in a breath to cry again when he was there, lifting her to her feet. He brushed a hand over her hair, down her arms, screwing up his face when he saw the unnatural position of her index finger on her right hand. “God, I’m sorry. I was hoping that stupid thing would hold up.”

She noticed he was clutching his side with his other hand. In the distance, she heard a siren. “Are you all right?"

He snatched up the fallen goggles, hanging them around his neck with the strap and motioning for her to follow. “Yep. I’ll fix you up as soon as we get to the farmhouse."

They dashed across the parking lot, not caring if anyone saw them. He kept his hand pressed against his wound, but she wasn't sure if it was because he'd torn his stitches or his shoulder was bothering him.

Neither of them spoke on the return drive to the safe house. Pain radiated up her arm, and she clenched her teeth all the way there.

Inside, he hustled her to the bathroom.

He retrieved several items from a linen closet, shucked the goggles, and laid his gun on the sink. “The finger is broken, and I have to set it. Let me find some liquor to help take the edge off."

She grabbed his arm. Someone had tried to kill Gani. Had shoved uncut gemstones down her throat. The woman might already be dead if the ambulance hadn’t arrived in time. Who was next? “I can handle it.”

He caressed her face. “Luv, I’m serious. It’s going to be a bitch.”

“I’m stronger than you think.”

He smiled down at her. She knew he was in pain, too, but he didn’t let it show. “You are, and I have a lot to make up to you.”

“Bones heal. I’ll be all right.”

“Well, I could use a shot of scotch, so if you can hang on a minute…?”

She released him. He probably needed it more than she did. “Go.”

In the end, she was grateful for the alcohol and the tongue depressor he gave her to bite down on when he did set her finger. She screeched and swayed on the toilet seat from the agony, but he made quick work of sliding on a splint and wrapping it securely.

Her wrist received his attention next, and he affixed a compression bandage from her elbow to her hand to stabilize the strained joint.

After she’d downed half the bottle, swaying now from tipsiness, and he was gently washing some of her scrapes, she took the washcloth from his hands. “Your turn."

She was surprised when he didn't argue, allowing her to peel off his shirt. The inflamed injury on his side surprised her, and she tossed the garment down. “It's infected. Why didn't you say something?"

“When? After Dolan kicked us out? When we discovered your mother had nearly been executed? When we were at the park in the tower?"

It was said with a crooked grin, but his attempt at humor fell flat. She pushed him onto the toilet seat and yanked off the stained bandage from his side. "Don't be a smart ass."

He gave a yelp. "I'll have you know I have a degree in smartass-edness. I'm rather proud of it, in fact."

Her normal dexterity was limited by her wrist and finger. She still managed to splash alcohol on a cotton ball and press it to his wound. He sat up straighter and batted her hand away. “Ow! That hurts."

"Don't be a baby." Coddling him or acting overly concerned about the spreading red streaks would only make him shut down. Defensiveness about her aggressive treatment, on the other hand, might distract him from the fact his judgment could have ended much worse for them both. “Remember what I said about your importance to this mission?”

"I found a fresh prescription of amoxicillin downstairs and already took a dose." As she clipped off the end of the broken stitches, he patted her hip. "I promise that my viability is still top-notch"

She very much doubted that. The fact they’d been on the run for nearly forty-eight hours was taking its toll on both of them, their injuries notwithstanding. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was exhausted. She was angry and in pain and on the verge of a breakdown herself. "We have each other."

He caught her eye, quirking a brow in question.

“I’m trying to find something positive to focus on.” She tossed the bloody thread pieces and cotton ball into the garbage, rummaging through the assembled items for antibiotic cream. “And you shouldn't mix alcohol with prescription drugs.”

"Yes, mum.”

She swatted his leg and began swathing his injury with the cream. "I can see why you excelled at that degree."

At least that got a genuine grin out of him. "I'm sorry about Gani.”

She didn't want to think on that right now. Every time she did, her stomach bottomed out, and her rage turned hotter. "Do you think they got to her in time?"

"I'm sure of it, but we’ll check in the morning." He rubbed a hand over his face as she finished with the cream and peeled the packaging off a large square bandage. "We’re both blown out. We need sleep."

She didn't think she could, but she didn't argue. If she could get him to rest, it would go a long way in regards to his ‘viability.’

It was no longer about keeping him healthy enough to protect her. Like a dummy, she'd fallen in love with him all over again.

You never stopped loving him. Don't kid yourself .

Love and hate went hand-in-hand, and although she’d tried to convince herself while staring at a dull, gray wall day after day in her cell that she wanted to roast his balls over a fire and shove them down his throat, she realized now that her anger had been based on hurt and grief. Deep, dark grief that had spiraled into depression.

That's when the dreams had started plaguing her. She thought escaping into sleep would solve her depression, but he was there, too. His wit, his charm, that grin. She woke up every morning, yearning for him, aching for him, until all the bad memories came back and she slammed her guards into place. She reminded herself how much she hated him, how much she wanted revenge on him.

As he stood there in front of her, half-naked and still favoring his shoulder, she wanted to kiss him. To forget the horrible memories and bring those dreams to life. The way he kissed her in them, whispered what he wanted to do to her in her ears, stroked her between her legs. The way he made her beg for release.

Clearing her throat and the lascivious mental movie playing out in her mind, she carefully applied the bandage and ran a finger along the edges to make sure the adhesive sealed properly. He sucked in a breath, even though she wasn't purposely trying to hurt him this time, and she felt a bit guilty for having done that earlier. “What's wrong with your shoulder? It's not dislocated, is it?"

He avoided her eyes. "You do nice work.” He pointed to the bandage. "I landed on my shoulder wrong, is all. It's bruised but not dislocated."

"Thank God. I know how to stitch a wound, but I don't know how to fix that."

He chuckled, but it was weary and lacked enthusiasm. "I'll take the first watch. You get some sleep."

"Watch? You mean we're not sleeping together?" She realized how that sounded, and so did he—his grin returned, along with the quirking eyebrow. "You know what I mean.”

"The security system is sound, but I'd feel better if I had my eyes on the property at all times."

She left the mess they’d made, dragging him with her toward the bedroom. "Okay, but can you stay with me until I fall asleep? Or do you have to check all the outlets and light fixtures upstairs?”

He might've been off his game at the moment, but he seemed to pick up on her deception, even though she was trying to give him her most innocent look. “Suurrre.” The way he drew out the word told her he was onto her. “First, I need to rehydrate and get something to eat. Care to join me?"

Her stomach growled at the idea of food. “Suurrre,” she mimicked.

In the kitchen, he checked the security camera while she found items to make sandwiches. She discovered bags of chips, dried fruit, cereal bars, and protein shakes in the pantry. Loading up the table with her treasures, she helped herself to nuts and chips as she made double-decker sandwiches.

He joined her, that tiny crease between his brows again.

“Are you going to tell me what was in those folders?” She licked peanut butter off a knife. Amazing that such a simple thing could taste so good when you hadn’t had much to eat in two days.

He paused with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Information I wish I’d never seen.”

“About what?”

He shook it off and resumed eating. “Life’s a bitch,” he said around a mouthful.

“Tell me about it.”

They ate in silence after that, both of them ravenous. When they were done and she started to clean up the remnants of their impromptu dinner, he took her by the hand and led her upstairs.

The bedroom was simple and quite ugly, with faded wallpaper and an orange chenille bedspread. The lamp on the 70s-style nightstand was amber brown, and the rug on the wooden floor might have been blue at one time. It was hard to tell.

A musty smell permeated the air, but she figured it was better than sleeping in the car or, worse, on the streets of DC.

He did a cursory check with Dolan’s gadget, then crossed to the bed. She snuggled up to his good side, not turning down the spread or the sheets. At least, she hadn’t seen any roaches or spiders. No mice or rats, either. She did have her limits.

Hoping he’d drift off before she did, she closed her eyes, pretending to be seeking slumber. With his good arm around her, his finger traced slow circles on her arm, stroked the ends of her hair, rested against her back.

A soft rain began to fall outside, pattering against the single-pane window. She laid her hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm. Her breathing deepened, but his ministrations didn’t put her under. A pleasant sensation replaced her anger and rage, and the night’s events seemed far away.

He was a patient man, as evidenced by the fact he didn’t speak and kept caressing her gently, trying to induce her into la-la land. Hitching one leg over his as she curled fully into him, she replaced her hand with her head. His heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her ear.

The rain and the quiet house should have done the trick, but all she could think of was how he’d risked himself over and over to help her. How his vow to make things right had superseded the one he’d taken to his country.

"You don't owe me anything more," she said softly. "You've done enough."

“Eh, I'm just getting started. Merely have to figure out what I'm going to do next. "

She tilted her head so she could look at him, then gently eased herself up so they were face-to-face. "How about this?" She lowered her mouth to his.

He let her take the lead, staying prone on his back as she carefully straddled him. Her tongue found his, and she nibbled his bottom lip as she guided his arms over his head.

He wasn’t submissive, yet in their brief time together, she’d taught him it was safe to let down his guard in the bedroom with her. She was rarely assertive like this, but he’d encouraged her to do what felt right.

She dragged her breasts over his chest slowly and tantalizingly. It wasn’t enough. Her shirt was in the way—she needed skin-to-skin contact. “Don’t move,” she ordered, sitting up to remove it. Once the girls were free, she resumed her motion, grazing her nipples over his chest while she pinned his arms above his head.

His gaze locked onto her mounds, and he licked his lips. The spot between her legs grew warm and wet.

“Wait until I get my mouth on you,” he growled.

Her voice came out breathless, her pelvis getting in on the action as she ground against his erection. “I can’t wait.”

He bucked his hips, his member catching her in that sensitive spot that was already too close to release. She increased the speed, determined to make him beg.

Instead, he caught her mouth with his and greedily kissed her. Even with her eyes shut, the room spun. Her world circled down to their bodies, their mutual need.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked when she finally came up for air.

“I’m not sure about much.” She could barely breathe. “But this? I couldn’t be more certain that I want you.”

And then she was flipped onto her back, a squeal sneaking out of her as he knelt between her legs and tugged off her pants. His went next.

And, damn. The man was fine everywhere . “No…condoms…” she panted, eyeing his engorged member. What were they going to do? She hadn’t had sex with anyone but him since they’d parted, but she didn’t want an oops baby.

She was pretty sure she never wanted a baby at all. Her family was so screwed up, she couldn't even imagine normal, everyday things, like having dinner together, much less holidays and birthdays.

He held up a finger, raced out of the room, and when he returned, a string of foil packs dangled from his grip. “Found them in the bathroom.”

“This place is amazing.” She came up on her knees, ripped the packages from his hand, and tore one open. “Come here.”

He did as instructed, allowing her to roll it on, groaning his satisfaction as she took her time, applying pressure as she went. At the top, she released him and squeezed his balls.

“You are so going to pay for that,” he threatened.

“Oh, yeah?” She smacked him on the ass.

He pushed her onto her back, grabbed her ankles, and hauled her to the edge of the bed. She cried out and giggled, the laugh cut short as he dropped to his knees and buried his head between her legs.