Chapter 23
“Dammit, Wyatt, stay still,” grumbled a male voice.
Callie tried to open her eyes, but the harsh light blinded her. Pain shot through her, and all she wanted to do was go back to the blessed darkness and escape it.
But there was Wyatt.
“Just pull the fucking thing out,” Wyatt snapped.
Pull what out? Callie heard the agony in his voice.
“Perhaps I should knock your ass out. It’d make my life easier.”
Owen. That was Owen’s voice. So, they’d made it to the ranch. She was relieved. Though she didn’t know how they had gotten there. The day was a blur of pain and Wyatt forcing water down her throat.
Then the attack. It was the sound of bullets that had jarred her back to consciousness. When she’d come to and found Wyatt in a struggle with another, she’d tried to call out a warning. Then she’d seen the pistol.
Grabbing it and lifting the weapon to shoot had cost her a great deal of energy. She’d tried to remain awake to talk to Wyatt afterward, but her body hadn’t listened.
“If you don’t take it out now, I’m going to punch you,” Wyatt complained.
Owen ground out between clenched teeth, “Then be still.”
Callie turned her head in the direction of their voices. She cracked open her eyes to see Wyatt sitting backward on a chair with Owen peering closely at something on his back.
“You should tend to Callie first,” Wyatt said.
Owen shook his head. “Her bleeding is controlled. Yours isn’t.”
“I don’t care about mi—” Wyatt began.
She licked her lips and said, “Wyatt.”
It came out as more of a whisper than a shout, but it must have been loud enough because, suddenly, his gold eyes were focused on her. She saw cuts and bruises from the fights all over his face and hands, but he looked gorgeous to her.
“Hey, Callie,” Natalie said as she came to sit on the edge of the cot. “How are you feeling?”
Like shit, but she didn’t say it. Callie kept her gaze on Wyatt. His hands were fisted, and a muscle jumped in his temple. He was hurting. She wanted to help him, to ease him.
“Callie?” Natalie repeated.
She finally nodded, hoping that would be enough for Nat because talking was too much trouble.
“Son of a bitch!” Owen bellowed as he straightened and wiped the back of his arm across his brow.
Another man appeared. He was in black tactical gear and had the look of military about him. But that was all Callie noticed because she refused to look away from Wyatt.
The new guest stood at Wyatt’s head and put his hands on Wyatt’s shoulders, pushing down at the same time Owen bent and returned to his work. There were tense seconds of silence. Callie watched sweat roll down the side of Wyatt’s face, and his knuckles go white, as he held her gaze.
But he didn’t move.
Finally, Owen held up the long tweezers and showed off the bullet “It’s out.”
“Good,” Wyatt snapped. “Now, get it stitched and bandage it.”
“You should rest,” the guest said.
In response, Wyatt shrugged off the man’s hold. Then he gave her a nod. It was his small way of letting her know he was all right. Callie gave him a smile in return.
As soon as the stitching was done and a bandage in place, Wyatt rose and walked to her. Natalie quickly got out of the way. To Callie’s surprise, he took her hand. She hadn’t even realized she held it out to him, but the instant his warm fingers wrapped around hers, she was able to breathe easier.
“You finally decided to wake?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Since when was Wyatt playful? Never. But she liked it—and the crooked smile that accompanied his words. “I thought you could use the challenge.”
“I was up for it.” His smile faded, replaced by a small frown. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I won’t.”
He squeezed her hand and cleared his throat before raking a hand through his hair and glancing over his shoulder. “Callie, I’d like you to meet Maks. He helped us against the Saints.”
“Hi, Maks,” she said, smiling up at him.
He gave a tilt of his head. “Ma’am.” Then Maks looked at Wyatt. “I’m going to take a look around outside.”
After he departed, Owen came to the other side of the cot while wiping his freshly washed hands on a towel. “I can check your injuries now.”
“I’ll do it,” Wyatt said.
Owen shook his head at his brother in frustration. “It’s nice to see you, Callie. Let me know if you get tired of his bossy ass.”
Natalie gave a wave before following Owen out of the room, leaving Callie alone with Wyatt. Her gaze lifted to his to find him staring at her.
“You scared me.”
His admission surprised her. “I didn’t think anything frightened you.”
“You did.”
“So you do feel things.”
“I feel everything.”
She wasn’t sure what to think of that confession, especially given what she knew of him. She’d been sure nothing got past the thick walls around his heart. Had she been wrong all these years?
He swallowed and glanced at their joined hands. “I should change your bandages and look at the wounds. I did a hasty job of stitching you up. I’m afraid you’ll have some ugly scars.”
“I’m alive. Scars will be a reminder of what we fought—and won.”
She wished she knew what he was thinking. She couldn’t read those gold eyes as he stared at her for a long, silent minute. Then he rose and turned to gather supplies.
That’s when she got her first good look at his back. There was still dried blood on his skin and arm and a large, white bandage over his right shoulder blade.
He didn’t bother with a shirt as he returned to her and spread out clean bandages and tape. It wasn’t until he pulled down the blanket that she realized her clothes were gone and she was in nothing but her bra and panties.
Then she noticed the bag hanging on the other side of her, feeding her saline to battle her dehydration.
She watched as Wyatt gently peeled back the bandage on her right side and began to clean it before inspecting the wound. His touch was soft, tender. Just as he’d been when they made love.
“What are you thinking that has you looking at me so?” he queried.
She blinked and quickly looked away at having been caught. “How was I looking at you?”
“As if you don’t know me.”
“I don’t.”
His hands paused as he met her gaze. “You do.”
“Do I? I thought I did once. You proved I didn’t.”
“You know me,” he insisted.
She mulled his words over for a moment. “I think I’ve only known a part of you. Have you ever let anyone in to know your deepest secrets?”
Wyatt was silent for a long time as he finished bandaging her. Then he said, “Yes.”
The jealousy and resentment that filled her were swift and instantaneous. Who was this woman who had gotten inside his heart when she couldn’t? Callie wanted to meet her so she could find out what it took.
“It was you.”
His words knocked the breath from her more forcefully than if she’d been kicked by a horse. She slowly lifted her gaze to him and shook her head.
Their conversation was halted when Owen called out to them before he entered the back room. She turned her head away when Wyatt moved around to her other side to check her neck.
Owen whistled as he came to stand beside the cot and saw the wound. “That one could’ve killed you, Callie.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
Wyatt’s fingers grazed her skin, sending chills over her. “She’s too quick for that.”
Callie saw Owen’s confused looked as he frowned at Wyatt. She was just as puzzled by Wyatt’s odd behavior. The curt, angry Wyatt seemed to have been shut away in a closet.
But she’d seen this side of him before. It was always pleasant while it lasted, but it never stayed around long. She knew full well how much it hurt when his brusque nature returned, and how he could cut someone in half with just a look.
She winced when he pressed too hard on her wound.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
It wasn’t his words that caused her stomach to clench. It was the way he caressed down her neck. It was a lover’s touch, one that struck her right to her soul.
Owen scratched the side of his nose as he looked between the two of them. “I thought you both should know that more Saints are arriving. Those cameras you had us install have done wonders, Callie.”
“I’m glad,” she said.
Wyatt asked, “How many Saints?”
“Twenty,” Owen replied.
“Four for each of us,” Callie said as she tried to rise.
But Wyatt kept her in place. He gave her a stern look. “You’re not doing anything but staying in bed and resting.”
“I can still shoot. If you forget, I saved your ass out there,” she argued.
“I’ve not forgotten. But I was also the one who carried you around the entire day because you were unconscious.”
Owen twisted his lips in regret before he said, “Wyatt’s right. You should remain here.”
It was the last thing she wanted to do. Yet she didn’t have the strength to shove off Wyatt’s hand. Which meant she would be confined to the bed for a little while longer.
“Are they making any approach to us?” Wyatt asked.
Owen shook his head. “Not yet. It’s only a matter of time though.”
“Everyone needs to get to the house,” Callie said. “If they see any of you remain in the barn, they’re going to guess the base is here.”
Wyatt sat back as he finished with the dressing. “I hate to say it, but she’s right. This base has to remain secret because of Ragnarok.”
“That damn bioweapon,” Owen said angrily. “I want to destroy it.”
They all did, but until they learned how to find a cure for whatever it did, they had to keep it—and make sure it stayed out of the hands of the Saints.
No small order.
Callie liked that Wyatt remained near her. She listened as he and Owen talked about the various ways they could battle the Saints from the house—a residence that was still torn up from the last time they’d defended it.
She didn’t pull away when Wyatt’s fingers touched her arm as if by accident. But he didn’t move away. Then his hand shifted closer to hers so gradually that she thought it was her imagination until their fingers made contact.
Her gaze jerked to him, but Wyatt’s focus was on Owen. Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing. Owen certainly hadn’t noticed.
Or maybe it was all in her head.
She felt her eyes growing heavy, but she fought against it. There was so much she’d missed while unconscious. She didn’t want to miss out on any more.
“Don’t fight it,” Wyatt’s voice whispered in her ear.
When had her eyes closed? She forced them open to find that Owen was gone. Wyatt’s hand was stroking her hair in a soothing motion that had her drifting off to sleep once more.
Even as she entered the dream world, she felt his lips on her forehead.