Page 56 of Saving Her

She’s talking about me. My muscles. My apparent malice.

“That’s how Luther took me.” She swallows, her tongue snaking out to moisten her lips. “I fell for a kind act and paid the price.”

“And now you think I’m doing the same thing?” I keep scrubbing my hair, pretending her continued distrust doesn’t get to me.

“I’m not trying to offend you. I just want you to understand my situation. I know you’ve risked a lot to help me. But until I’m in a place where I feel safe, I’m never going to trust you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me about this safe place so I can get you there?”

“I wish I could.” She holds my gaze, her eyes devoid of hope. “I’m not sure it exists anymore. My nightmare will never be over.”

“Of course it will. The memories will fade with time.” I wince and grit my teeth as I hit a sore spot, the added pain ricocheting through my brain.

“Give it here.” She holds out a hand for the shirt. “Let me do it.”

I oblige, the invigorating boost of victory sliding through my veins. She rinses and wrings the material again, then sidesteps to stand in front of me, making sure to leave a generous amount of space between us. With her arm completely outstretched, she starts to wipe the damp shirt over my jaw, my cheek.

I can’t take my eyes off her. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. She’s fucking beautiful. So beautiful I feel like a prick for understanding why someone would want to steal her. “You can come closer.”

She doesn’t pause her movements. Doesn’t even acknowledge I spoke. But after a while she shuffles forward, inch by inch, gaining a better vantage point to clean my wound, her bare toes touching the front of my boots.

She comes close. A breath away. And with each progression the air thickens around us, the atmosphere gaining an edge of trepidation.

It feels like one wrong move will have the peace of this moment transformed into another attempt on my life, or worse, she’ll retreat into the defensive, resentful woman who grates on my nerves.

“When I mentioned my nightmare never ending, I wasn’t referring to the mental struggle I’m going to be up against. I was talking about Luther’s men and how they’ll make sure I disappear. They won’t stop looking for me.”

“They can’t look when they’re dead.”

“And you’re going to kill them all?”

“Damn straight.”

She pauses, sighs, and shakes her head as she stares longingly over my shoulder. “Believe me, the bad guys always win.”

“Well, lucky for you, I haven’t been one of the good guys for a while.”

She stiffens. Almost imperceptibly. The next dab of the shirt is a direct impact to my bullet wound.

“Fuck me, shorty.” I jerk back at the stab of agony. “Can you try keeping the material out of my brain?”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Sure you did.” I fake a smirk, trying to soften the fear I’ve reawakened in her.Jesus. She’s more skittish than a wild animal. “You’re trying to destroy my tough-guy status, remember?”

Her lips curve in a barely there smile. It’s almost imperceptible. Entirely subtle. The brief glimpse of happiness reaches her eyes, transforming the cornered wild cat into a blindingly brilliant beauty of a woman. But as quickly as the vision hits, the carefree gorgeousness fades.

“You need stitches,” she murmurs.

I stare at her, willing the beauty to return. I want to see that smile again. Bigger and brighter. Cemented in place.

My dick pulses with compounding need, the perverted reaction enough for me to right the approaching train wreck.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, I figured as much.” I turn my head away to grab the tiny sewing kit I found in the utensils drawer of the kitchen. My idiotic libido is nothing more pain won’t fix. “How are you with a needle and thread?”

“I guess that depends on how twitchy you’ll be knowing I’m holding something sharp close to your skull.” She takes the kit and opens it up to inspect the contents.

“I’ve got a pretty thick head. I don’t think a sewing needle will penetrate.”

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