“So, Gabe tells me your brother thinks I’ve gone soft,” Boyd remarked.
She tipped her head to assess a man who was as tall as Gabe, but leaner. “Maybe I should send him a picture so he can see that you don’t have a beer belly yet.”
He laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Why didn’t he ever tell me his sister was right here in Sadler?”
“Maybe because he didn’t want you anywhere near her,” Gabe suggested.
Boyd thought that was funny, too, possibly because he’d heard the edge in Gabe’s voice.
“I’ll have to call to give him a hard time,” Boyd continued.
“He’s away,” she said softly. “That’s why he asked Gabe to help.”
“Yeah, so I hear.” He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Joseph can take care of himself, you know.”
Her smile was obviously forced. “I do know.”
Gabe didn’t like seeing the shadow darkening her eyes. Yeah, being the one left behind would be a bitch. He should consider himself one of the lucky ones, knowing he wasn’t hurting people who loved him, leaving them scared out of their skulls every time he went wheels up. And it would be even tougher for a lover—a wife—than it was for parents or siblings.
He had a feeling Boyd was thinking the same when he changed the subject. “Cute kid.”
“Yes.” Trina’s gaze followed his to the front porch, where Chloe jumped from the top step to the ground, then climbed up and did it again. “She’s doing amazingly, considering. Um, Gabe did tell you?”
“Yeah.” Boyd’s tone was grim. “No place is completely safe, but...damn.”
Inside, Gabe heated the soup while Trina put together sandwiches. Two days, and they’d already begun to work around each other in the kitchen as if they’d been doing it for years, he thought, watching as she spun past him to get plates and bowls down from the cupboard. He nodded thanks and caught Boyd’s interested gaze. Like that, is it?
No. Yes. Even if the conversation had been aloud, he wouldn’t have known how to answer. He’d like to get this woman into bed—but he also knew she threatened him on a bone-deep level where he didn’t want to go. If he were smart, he’d keep his zipper up and his hands to himself...except he’d be putting those hands all over her long, slim torso and the sweet curve of her ass again this evening. Even purple-and-black bruises, red skin and blisters had failed to shut down his libido.
It was like forcing an alcoholic to guzzle a shot glass full of whiskey twice daily.
During lunch, Gabe discovered something about himself, though. He didn’t like the charming smiles Boyd directed at Trina, or their witty byplay. His only salvation was the slightly shy way she kept an eye on him, Gabe. It reminded him of the way Chloe watched her. Trina was the kid’s anchor, and he was apparently Trina’s. Then there was the fact that she never blushed for Boyd. She was being friendly, no more...which made Gabe realize that he and she never had a conversation that wasn’t more.
Whatever this was sizzling between them, it was definitely mutual. The understanding was worrisome, even as it allowed him to relax and enjoy seeing Boyd’s astonishment because a beautiful woman didn’t flirt with him.
* * *
“YOUR FRIEND’S NICE,” Trina observed, as she and Gabe stood on the front porch watching Boyd raise a hand at them and kick his horse into a canter.
“Nice, huh?” An expression that looked a lot like a smirk crossed his face, although he erased it before she could be sure.
She narrowed her eyes. “Is there something wrong with ‘nice’?”
“He wouldn’t be flattered. Boyd is no more ‘nice’ than I am.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Men like us...we’ve seen too much. Done too much.”
“You’re including Joseph,” she said slowly.
He didn’t say anything.
“So when you took Chloe for a ride, that was...?”
“Practicality. She can’t tell us the scary stuff until she’s happy enough to feel safe. Besides, she’ll be a pain in the butt if she gets bored.”
He was that cold-blooded? Trina’s first reaction was shock. But despite his current hard stare, she didn’t believe he lacked any softness. He didn’t give himself away often, but she’d seen fleeting expressions, the crinkle of skin beside his eyes even when he didn’t allow himself a smile, a gentleness in the deep voice.
She snorted, much as horses did. “Don’t buy it.”
His dark eyebrows climbed. “Why not?”
“First, because I know Joseph. He...talks to me. Being a warrior and nice aren’t mutually exclusive.” She ignored Gabe’s visible disbelief. “And I read people for a living. You know what I do.”
What she’d thought was a hard stare became adamantine. Either he didn’t like the possibility that she could read him—or he detested her profession. Needing to get it out in the open, she said, “You don’t like therapists.”
“You’re right.” He leaned toward her, letting her see something close to rage. “We’re fine as long as you don’t try that shit on me. You got that?”
Shaken, Trina tried to figure out why this had blown up so fast. What was he hiding?
Unwilling to back down, she nonetheless agreed. “I got it.”
“Don’t forget.” Without so much as looking at her again, he walked down the steps and around a corner of the cabin, out of sight.
Mad more than anything, she stomped inside. Chloe sat on the sofa in the living room, clutching her plush purple My Little Pony—a gift from the jerk.
“Can I ride again?”
“Probably. Some other day.” Trina found a smile. “Right now it’s nap time.”
“I don’t wanna. I’m not sleepy.”
Trina held out her hand and waited.
Chloe let out a giant sigh, slid off the sofa and took Trina’s hand. “How come I hafta?”
They had this discussion daily, and Trina produced her rote answers, which Chloe countered. But Trina didn’t even make it through one of the books Gabe had bought before the little girl sagged into sleep. Trina kissed her on the cheek, drew the covers up and slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar. There she hesitated, grumpy enough she’d have joined Chloe for the nap if she’d really thought she could sleep.
Finally, she went downstairs, hoping Gabe hadn’t returned. The house was quiet, so she made herself a cup of tea and curled up at one end of the sofa with it and the book she’d picked out yesterday morning.
He eventually did come in the front door, glance at her and nod brusquely, and go to the kitchen. That was the last she saw of him until long after Chloe woke, bumped down the staircase on her bottom and wanted to play a game. Trina gave serious thought to letting him deal with dinner, but she hadn’t heard any sounds to suggest he was cooking and she was hungry, so she left Chloe watching a new video and went to the kitchen.
Gabe sat at the table, his laptop open in front of him. Even though she’d swear she hadn’t made a sound, his head lifted and those sharp blue eyes focused on her.
“I’m going to start dinner,” she said.
“You don’t have to. I can—”
“It’s fine.” If she sounded short, so what? And she wasn’t totally playing the martyr—she’d fully planned to make spaghetti this evening. She shouldn’t have sulked at all; she and Gabe didn’t have to be best friends, or even like each other. He was doing a favor for Joseph, and she had no doubt he was up to keeping her and Chloe safe. Full stop.
After turning on the burner, she dumped the hamburger into the pan and got out a cutting board, knife and onion. “Do you know what happened to the garlic?”
“First shelf, cupboard to your left.”
Trina found it, and began chopping. “Joseph said you were still rehabilitating from an injury. I hope
having us here hasn’t kept you from working out.”
“No, I have a gym set up in an outbuilding. That’s where I was.” After a brief pause, “There’s a shower out there, too.”
“Oh.” Her eyes began watering from the onion, which she hastily scraped into the pan with the hamburger. “You’re not limping or anything.”
“There’s still some discomfort.”
And wow, did that sound like a grudging admission telling anyone he had a weakness—having a weakness—probably went against his nature. Plus, she felt sure he used the word discomfort for what anyone else would call pain—or even agony.
Having dealt with the garlic, she stirred the browning hamburger and then turned to face him for the first time in the conversation. “Joseph said you’d been hit with an IED.”
His mouth tightened, and for a moment she thought he didn’t intend to respond. “Yes.”
“On a trail?”
“Road. Supposedly already cleared. I was in a jeep.” It was as if he was trying to reduce any drama by keeping his voice completely flat.
The effect was to distance him from her. She wondered how much of a habit that was. Whether he was truly warm and open with anyone.
“By yourself?” The minute she asked, she knew she shouldn’t have. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just being nosy. I’m not trying to get in your head or anything like that.” When she let herself look at him again, she saw his spare nod.
“Your walk is looser today.” His tone was cool, verging on disinterest. “Is your back feeling better?”
She moved her shoulders experimentally and, surprised, said, “It does. Maybe we can quit with the ointment. I mean, this wasn’t much worse than a bad sunburn.”
“I’ll take a look tonight.”
Deciding she’d been as friendly as she dared, Trina stirred again and then opened cans of tomatoes and tomato sauce before starting to dice a bell pepper.
Behind her, he said, “I didn’t offer any way for Risvold to get in touch with you. I wonder if we should set up a conduit. Maybe one of your partners.”
She shook her head. “I can call when I’m at the office.”
“And just when do you plan to be in the office?” The question was lethally soft.
Trina bit her lip and turned slowly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.”
He rose to his feet. To remind her he was bigger? Or because tension translated into action for him? “You don’t want to stay in hiding?”
“No, it’s not that.” It was hard to argue with someone who appeared so unreceptive. But ultimately, the decisions were hers. He was a bodyguard, not the boss. “I work with traumatized children. Ones who’ve withdrawn like Chloe did, or are acting out in disturbing ways. These are children who have seen something horrible, or been abandoned over and over. I knew you wouldn’t like it, but I can’t do the same to them.”
He only stared with those vividly blue eyes. “I cannot believe you’re even thinking about going to work.”
Trina bristled. “Thinking? I am going to work Monday morning.”
“And if I refuse to take you?” With crossed arms, that big solid body and an implacable expression, he was letting her know the decision wasn’t hers. “How do you plan to get there?”
Chapter Five
Still pissed Sunday evening, Gabe leaned a shoulder against the wall outside the guest bedroom as he waited for Trina. If he’d tried, he could have heard what she was reading to Chloe, but he let her voice form background music. Funny, he thought, that she had such a beautiful voice, at a lower range than most women, and yet couldn’t carry a tune.
He couldn’t believe that she’d won the argument. He had crumbled like a soda cracker under minuscule pressure, agreeing to deliver her to work Monday morning and pick her up at the end of the day. They had divided on whether she should take Chloe with her. If that happened any of the days this week, he’d either stay in the building as security or kill the day in town. An extra round-trip would up the risk unacceptably.
One thing he hadn’t told her was Risvold’s insistence that she show up daily in her office. For one thing, Gabe didn’t believe the detective would get anywhere trying to slap her legally. For another...he refused to tip the scales the wrong way on this argument.
The one he’d just lost.
Man, down the line Joseph was sure to hear his good buddy had condoned and participated in this sterling plan. Gabe expected a fist in his face at the very least, since he wouldn’t be able to duck her brother forever. But damn it, her argument had been persuasive. She worked with a lot of kids like Chloe, and she’d be letting them down if she had to cancel appointments for the foreseeable future. Imagining a dozen scared, mute little kids with maybe some freckles like Chloe’s, and he was sunk.
He’d thought of a new argument, though, which he planned to present while he inspected her burns.
Only silence came from the bedroom now. Gabe straightened from the wall. She wouldn’t go to bed without talking to him first, would she?
But no, she slipped quietly into the hallway. She jerked at the sight of him only a few feet away. But she lifted a finger to her lips, said, “Shh,” and pulled the door almost closed. When she turned back, he gestured toward his bedroom.
After a noticeable hesitation, she entered it. The moment he closed the door, she said, talking a little too fast, “I really don’t think you need to do this. I’m thinking I should just peel off the gauze and give my back some air.”
Gabe shook his head. “You can’t see the damaged skin. I can. You don’t want to get an infection, do you?”
She hovered beside his big bed, not wanting to give in, but obviously unable to dispute his logic. At last, she huffed. “Oh, fine.”
He couldn’t have said whether he was relieved by her surrender, or dismayed. Because he knew—or at least thought he knew—why she was opposed to getting seminaked with him.
This morning, after changing her dressing, he’d been so aroused he’d had to hide out for half an hour before he dared rejoin her and Chloe. Right now...he looked down and grimaced. Sitting wouldn’t be comfortable.
He hated thinking she might be uncomfortable not because she shared the intense attraction, but because she’d noticed his body’s response to her.
This was probably the last time he’d have to do this, Gabe reminded himself. Get it done. He grabbed the towel from the chair where he’d tossed it and spread it out on the bed.
She lifted her T-shirt over her head, exposing the sheets of gauze covering her slim back, then unbuttoned and unzipped her steel blue chinos before lying down on her face.
Wincing, he sat beside her, able to adjust himself because, as usual, she had turned her face away. He peeled off tape, hating to know he was causing her involuntary quivers or see the red marks the blasted tape left behind on her creamy skin.
“Your upper back is still red, but looking good,” he reported. “Not peeling yet. I don’t know if aloe vera stains, but we could switch to that and skip the bandages here.”
“Please.”
He wished he couldn’t see the plump side of her breast. Or maybe he wished he could really see her breasts, instead of having to resort to his imagination.
Gritting his teeth, he tore off more tape, eased more gauze away from her skin. Kept going until he could see the upper span of her buttocks and the curve of her hip, where the most severe burns had been. Blisters were still visible, some deflated, but a couple had burst.
“We need to keep ointment on here—” he squirted some on, feeling her reaction to the cold. “A couple of these blisters don’t look good.”
She mumbled something he thought was a swear word.
“Let’s see how it looks tomorrow.” He gently smoothed the ointment over the whole swath of skin from her lower back to her taut ass, then unro
lled gauze to cover the inflamed flesh. More tape—damn, it was irritating her skin as much as the burn had in some places. Finally, he applied aloe vera to her upper back, rubbed it in, and with a supreme effort kept his hand from continuing to stroke upward onto her neck.
“Done,” he said hoarsely, capped the bottle of green goop and grabbed the mess of bandages to throw them away in the bathroom. He washed his hands while he was there, too, and shook his head at the face he saw in the mirror.
That was Joseph’s sister, out there on Gabe’s bed. She depended on him. If he made a move, he’d risk her feeling like he’d put a price on his help.
With a groan he hoped she couldn’t hear, he scrubbed his hands over his face and went out to find her sitting on the side of the bed, loose T-shirt hiding her long, slim torso and the breasts he fantasized about.
She eyed him cautiously, making him wonder what he was projecting. “So, tomorrow.”
He frowned down at her. “Something else for you to consider. If Risvold can’t find you, he has no way to have a subpoena served on you, either. Once he knows you’re in your office, that changes. If you’re court-ordered to produce Chloe and don’t, you could be arrested.”
“He won’t go that far.”
“You so sure?”
Trina pressed her lips together, then said, “What I’d do is let him talk to her. We both know what would happen.”
Gabe knew. Chloe would clam up again. “What if he removes her from your care?”
“I’d like to see him try!” she fired back. “I work with the court system on a regular basis. I know judges. I could get him squished like a bug.”
Apparently, he’d tossed a spark on dry wood. And damn, Trina Marr’s fury and passion fanned the fire of his arousal, too. He forced himself to back away.
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “You win.”
Hide the Child Page 6
