Chapter 6 #2
She wasn’t sure how to respond. Obviously, it was the by-product of habit. Of two years’ worth of dating. It didn’t mean anything else. Couldn’t.
The handle rattled then opened, and she looked into the mirror at his reflection.
Damn, he was handsome. Almost pretty in his features and definitely not someone she’d peg as a hardcore Delta Force soldier.
Surfer, sure. Maybe even a model. Not a deadly threat.
But, that had always worked to his advantage.
Was part of the reason he’d been so good at getting intel from the locals. He didn’t look threatening. Lethal.
He was both.
She arched a brow. “Something wrong? Am I not allowed a bit of time to wash my face? Give my teeth a scrub?”
“I asked if you were okay, and you didn’t answer. I reacted, accordingly.”
“I was busy. But, since you’re here…don’t suppose I could trouble you for a towel? So I can take a dip in your shower?”
She knew by his reaction—furrowed brow, pursed mouth—that he thought she was crazy.
That he could see just standing there was taking all her strength.
That there wasn’t a hope in hell she’d be able to get in and out of the shower, let alone wash her hair, clean herself, without getting one of those concussions he’d mentioned. But, it was worth asking.
He took a step closer. “I know you probably feel like crap, but… I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t know if Ice would even allow it. Your wounds—”
“Are bad. Yeah, I know. But, my mental state is equally important, and it needs to wash this entire incident off me.”
“Mental state? Wait. Did they…” His jaw clenched.
Repeatedly. Jumping the muscle in his temple.
“Fuck, El, did they…” He swallowed hard, again.
Like before. As if it hurt. “Did they…rape you? Is that what this is about?” He wet his lips, glancing around the room.
His eyes were wide, almost panic stricken.
As if he hadn’t considered the possibility.
Not when it was foreign to him. When he wasn’t capable of that form of violence. “Shit. Wait here. I’ll get Ice. He—”
“Easy there, Brett. You’re going to give yourself whiplash if you keep hopping from one assumption to the next like that.
No, they didn’t actually rape me, but… That doesn’t mean they didn’t grab me.
Didn’t put their hands on me. That I can’t still feel all it.
So, yeah, I’d like to wash that off, if it’s all the same to you. ”
“Actually? What the hell does that mean?”
Shit. She shouldn’t have said anything. Brett was a natural protector. She knew the bruises and wounds had probably set him off. Made him edgy. But thinking they’d touched her—been inappropriate… He’d be seeing red.
“What it means is, they were stupid and let their guard down. Allowed me to capitalize on a moment of weakness and escape. Nothing more. Now, about that shower…”
He didn’t ease up, but he nodded. “Even if it won’t compromise your injuries, you’re not in any condition to go in there, alone. Ice is a medic, he—”
“I don’t need a medic to babysit me in the shower.”
“Then, I can ask Jericho. She’d be more than willing to help. And she just got back with Cannon.”
Jericho? Who the hell was Jericho? Shit, was she Brett’s girlfriend?
After all, it had been five years. And Brett was gorgeous.
Strong and sweet and any woman’s dream. Thinking he was still single—that he hadn’t moved on—was foolish.
He wasn’t wearing a ring—she’d checked. Not that she was proud of that fact, but not sporting jewelry didn’t mean they weren’t together.
“Jericho?”
“Cannon’s girl—partner.”
“Wait. Cannon has a girlfriend? As in an actual relationship?”
“For several months, now. Pretty sure they’ll get hitched but that doesn’t seem to be too pressing.
They’re totally devoted to each other. Kinda creepy after never seeing him with anyone, before.
But…” He made direct eye contact. “Guess he realized there’s more to life than endless missions.
That having someone to share it with makes it all worthwhile. Took him long enough.”
If she’d wondered if he had unresolved issues regarding their previous relationship, the way she’d left, he’d just clarified it. And based on the increased red across his cheeks, he wasn’t happy with that fact.
Good, neither was she. But those questions would have to wait until after she felt human, again. Not that a shower would accomplish that, but it was a start.
He tilted his head then raked his hand through his messy locks, somehow managing to make himself look even sexier than before. “I’ll go get Jericho—”
“No. Really, I’ll be fine.”
“You really won’t.” He moved in a bit closer. “Jericho’s great. You’ll like her. And she’s a Deputy U.S. Marshal, so, she won’t freak out over seeing the cuts and bruises. In fact, she helped stop the bleeding while we were waiting for Ice to arrive.”
Ellis inhaled. A Deputy U.S. Marshal? Christ, had the woman called in the incident? Ellis had been shot, so it was standard protocol. Notifying the authorities. But if they used her name…
“Whoa, El, the color just drained from your face. Are you feeling faint? Like you’re gonna puke?”
She met his concerned gaze—did her best not to make any of his questions a reality, before managing a breath. “She’s a marshal? God, Brett, please tell me she didn’t report this? Shit, if they know I’m here. That I’m still alive—”
“Easy, sweetheart. She’s been around us long enough to know some matters can’t go through the regular channels.
Showing up bloody with armed men shooting through the door…
It wasn’t hard to figure out this needed to be kept on the down low.
And the last thing she’d want to do is put your life in jeopardy.
As far as anyone is concerned, you’re a Jane Doe over at Harborview.
Jericho used her connections to get it on the books.
It won’t last long, but we’ll hopefully have more intel by then—know better how to keep you safe, so… breathe.”
More intel? How to keep her safe? Christ, all she’d wanted was to get some help.
A few pints of blood, or a lift to the hospital that she’d planned on ditching the moment she woke up.
And now, it sounded as if she’d amassed her own squad.
Brett’s squad. All without saying a word.
By just arriving on his doorstep bloody and broken.
Which seemed crazy. They hadn’t come looking for her before.
When she’d actually meant something to Brett.
When she’d needed them to hold true to the code—not leave her behind.
Thinking they might rally, now, after all this time…
It made his request to breathe impossible. Not when everything was spinning out of control faster than she could regain her footing?
She sank down onto the side of the tub, hoping that the shakiness in her legs was from the blood loss and not the prospect of spending more time with the man standing in front of her.
He followed her down, gently touching her chin then lifting it. Their gazes locked, and damn if her stomach didn’t flutter, again. The man was just too handsome.
He smiled. “You never were one to accept a lot of help. Always something to prove.”
“Please, the military is still very much a boy’s club. I was expected to prove myself.”
“Doesn’t look like your new job is any better in that department.”
Shit. Now, he was asking about her job. While he hadn’t said the words operative, agent or CIA, she knew that’s what he was thinking. What they were all likely thinking based on how she’d arrived on their doorstep. And she wasn’t sure if she could go down that road. Talk about what had happened.
He grunted at her silence. “Okay, then how about a compromise? I’ll help you into the tub, where you’ll sit, just like this, on the back edge.
I’ll get the water and soap ready for you, then turn around while you lose my shirt and use the hand spray to wash off the important areas—avoiding the wound Ice stitched closed.
Then, when you’re done, you can lean forward, and I’ll run the water through your hair.
It won’t be the same as standing under the spray, but you’ll feel better, and Ice won’t want to kill either of us for putting your safety at risk. Deal?”
His shirt? Of course, it was his shirt. She was in his apartment.
His bedroom. But, she’d managed to ignore that fact, until now.
No wonder it smelled like him. And had he actually suggested she get naked while he was still in the room?
Modesty or not, she wasn’t sure she could do that and remain sane.
After years of wishing she could have one more night with him—a chance to say a real goodbye, because love or not, she couldn’t be near him while involved in the CIA.
Wouldn’t put him in the crosshairs that came with the job—even sitting there bent over as he washed her hair seemed dangerously intimate.
“El?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Where the hell had that come from? Hadn’t she just told herself it was a bad idea? That this was risky territory she shouldn’t be considering?
A smile. Not a real one that reached his eyes, but a fairly convincing fake one. “I think I can manage.” He reached for her hand. “Ready?”