Page 16 of Fighting for Scarlett

She hadn't done anything wrong.

Maybe he thought she’d talked? Told Raul Castillo about the drug? Could he even know that was why the weapons dealer had taken her?

“What are these?” he growled again as he brushed a hand down her back, not bothering to avoid the gashes from the whip.

Wincing, she shifted slightly to get away from his touch. Well, she tried to shift away, but Tate’s hands clamped around her biceps, right over the bullet wound from the night she was abducted, and she sucked in a pained breath.

“Why do you have cuts on your back? Why are your wrists and ankles all torn up? Why did you have a rock tied around your ankle?”

The rapid-fire questions were too much for her stressed-out brain to answer. She was tired, she was in pain, she was afraid, and all she wanted was to be surrounded by people she loved, but instead, she was with a man who she’d had sex with and then been tossed aside like trash.

If anyone should be angry here it should be her.

Okay, he didn't have to offer more than their agreed upon one night, and she could have imagined that he had felt anything at all for her beyond lust and attraction, but he hadn't had to be cruel about it.

Assuming he was angry, she might have said something she shouldn’t, Scarlett gave her head a small shake. “I didn't tell him anything,” she whispered.

There was no exclamation of agreement or reassurances that he knew she was loyal to her team and would never betray any of them. Instead, there was an almost … suspicious pause. Like he doubted that. Doubted her.

Still, he didn't say anything, and for that Scarlett was eternally grateful.

While she would have loved to be able to brush away his hand when he gripped her elbow and pulled her to her feet, she knew she was running on empty and needed his help. Her skillset was woefully inadequate to deal with any of this, and if she wanted to get home alive, she needed his help.

Even if he seemed reluctant to be here.

Thinking that he didn't really want to be here rescuing her made Scarlett feel horribly guilty. Whatever their history he had come, risking his life in the process.

Reaching out, she rested a hand on his forearm, frowning when his other hand moved slightly, shifting his weapon as though he thought she was about to tell him she’d noticed an imminent threat. “It’s okay, I didn't see anything, I just wanted to say thank you for coming to get me. I thought I was going to die in that hellhole.”

His unusual eyes looked at her, but there was no hint of the warmth she’d felt that night they’d spent together. If she didn't know it had happened, she would have been tempted to think she had dreamed that whole thing up.

The man she’d spent that night with was funny, smart, gentle, a tender lover, and easy to talk to. He was warm and open, and they’d had fun together. The man she’d seen afterward and the one here right now were the opposite. Cold, hard, and dangerous.

This man reminded her of the ones who worked for Raul.

A cold shiver rocketed through her, and for the first time, Scarlett realized she was still naked. Of course, she’d known she hadn't been given clothes after she’d been whipped, and the only way he could have seen some of her wounds was because her body was bare for all to see, but somehow, it hadn't sunk in until this moment.

Suddenly feeling small, vulnerable, and oh so very exhausted, she swayed and then wrapped her arms around herself, doing her best to shield what she could.

Instead of offering her something to cover herself like she thought he would have, Tate merely grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the house. “You do exactly what I tell you when I tell you to do it, or else,” he growled.

Taken aback by the viciousness in his tone, Scarlett flinched. “I'm not stupid, Tate,” she murmured. “I know this is your skill set, not mine. I won't do anything to get either of us killed.”

He merely huffed, then began to drag her along with him.

Moving much too fast for her shorter legs to keep up with even if she wasn’t teetering on the edge of complete exhaustion, Scarlett did her best to shove everything else away and concentrate on the fact that she was going home.

So what if Tate wasn’t pleased he’d had to traipse through the Mexican jungle to find a woman he had slept with and obviously regretted it. At least at the end of all of this, they’d be home.

Well not home to her house.

After what had happened, there she never wanted to step foot in the place again. She’d put it on the market as soon as she could and look for another place to buy.

Assuming they were going to the house to meet up with the rest of his team when they bypassed the building and instead headed down toward the front gates, she wondered what was going on.

“Aren't we going inside?” she asked. Not that she particularly wanted to go back inside the house, but she did want to get somewhere she didn't feel as exposed.

“No.”

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