Chapter 2 #2
“Something like that.” His rescuer glanced at him, his mouth opening as though he was going to add something before he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and turned his attention back to the terrain.
Shaun watched him methodically work through the surrounding area with the night vision goggles and wondered what the hell the man had stopped himself from saying.
Whatever it was, he must have decided it could wait, because once he had finished his sweep, he lowered the goggles and looked Shaun over instead.
“Any injuries we need to take care of before we move on?” He offered Shaun the Camelbak hose again, and Shaun took another careful sip.
“Just my back and my wrists,” Shaun answered. “But I’ll deal.”
“Show me?” His rescuer reached for the bottom of Shaun’s shirt, and Shaun turned his back to give him a better look.
He couldn’t see the damage the bastards had done, but judging by the sudden silence behind him, followed by the sharp breath the other man sucked in, it probably looked every bit as fucking bad as it felt. “Fuck.”
“That bad, huh?” Shaun didn’t need to see his back to know his shirt had dried into the welts left by whatever the fuck they had used on him. Every time he moved, the material pulled against the wounds.
“Can you do this without making a sound, or do you want to wait until we get to the extraction point and are on our way out of the country?” his rescuer asked. “That shirt is stuck to some of the wounds. Taking it off is going to open them again, and it’s going to hurt like fuck.”
“Do it,” Shaun told him. “It’s going to hurt either way, and the sooner it’s clean, the less chance of infection there is.”
“I think you are pretty much screwed when it comes to infection anyway, buddy. This is going to hurt.”
Warm water ran down his back as his rescuer soaked what remained of his shirt, and he sucked in a careful breath when the wet material shifted against the wounds. At least the man was trying to loosen the fucking thing before he ripped it away from skin that already felt raw as hell.
“All at once? Or do you want me to try and go easy?”
“Just take the damn thing off.”
Shaun braced himself when his rescuer bunched the bottom of his shirt in both hands, the man’s knuckles brushing across the bare skin at his waist. Under any other circumstances, Shaun might have enjoyed the contact a hell of a lot more than he should, but right now he was too busy preparing himself for what was coming.
“Do it.”
The shirt ripped away from his back in one fast movement, and white-hot pain tore through him hard enough that his vision blurred. He locked his jaw against the sound trying to escape and concentrated on breathing until the worst of it passed.
“Fuck,” his rescuer muttered behind him. Warm fingers moved carefully over the bloody welts and bruises, and Shaun flinched before he could stop himself. “Sorry, I’m just going to pour some water over them, and I have some salve in my pack. It smells like shit, but it will ease the sting.”
“I could fucking kiss you right now, man,” Shaun muttered. “You know that, right?”
“Huh?” The fingers against Shaun’s back stopped for a beat before his rescuer cleared his throat behind him. When he answered, his voice sounded a little rougher than it had a second ago. “No need for that.”
“Sorry.” Shaun tensed before he could stop himself, waiting for the man behind him to pull away or make something of the comment.
Instead, those warm fingers returned to his back with the same careful touch as before, and some of the tension worked its way out of his shoulders.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on staying still while his rescuer cleaned what he could with alcohol pads.
Fuck, that stung. Shaun caught his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down rather than give the pain a voice, but the salve that followed cooled some of the fire left behind.
The stuff smelled suspiciously familiar, and it took him a second to place the sharp medicinal scent.
“Is that fucking horse salve?” he whispered, turning his head enough to try to look at the man behind him.
“Yep.” His rescuer gave a quiet huff of amusement as he worked another careful layer over one of the welts. “My boss swears by the shit. Keeps it in our medical supplies for pretty much anything that stings, burns, or gets scraped to hell.”
“Your boss is fucking weird.”
“You have no idea.”
Once his rescuer finished treating the worst of the damage, Shaun heard him rummaging through his pack before a clean T-shirt appeared over his shoulder.
“You can wear this instead; at least it’s clean.”
“Thanks.” Shaun took it from him and carefully worked his arms into the sleeves, trying not to pull too hard at his shoulders before easing the shirt down over his back. The clean material settling against his skin felt fucking luxurious after weeks in the same filthy clothes.
The radio crackled, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen after his rescuer finished treating Shaun’s back and wrists.
The man touched the comms unit on his shoulder. “TOC, Ambra One. Go ahead.”
Ambra One. Shaun filed the designation away automatically.
His rescuer listened for a second before glancing at Shaun, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Aw, don’t be jealous because he is prettier than you.”