Swept Away

by Jill Sanders

  Willow tried once more to shut the door, this time using all her weight, but he used his shoulder to hold it open and it didn’t budge.

  His dark eyes bore into hers and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Dangerous. The word screamed in her head as she fought with him, trying to close him out.

  Then she thought of trying a different tactic and moved away from the door quickly. The man’s giant frame fell forward as the door swung open. She thought that he would catch himself before landing on her floor, but instead, he hit the tile in her entryway with a loud thud.

  She was about to sprint past him and run to her neighbor’s door for help, when she noticed the blood on his hands and clothes.

  “Willa,” he whispered as his dark eyes slid closed. “Billy.”

  Hearing her father’s nickname come from his lips shocked her to her core.

  “Billy?” She shook her head. “Billy Blake?”

  The man on the ground groaned as he nodded. “Where is he?”

  She stopped moving as her heart jumped in her chest. “He’s dead,” she blurted out.

  The man made no move, so she trailed her eyes up and down him cautiously. She knew he was tall, since he had loomed over her in the doorway. He was wearing dark jeans with a black leather jacket and matching black boots. His hair was neatly cut, almost military style. From what she could see, he looked a few years older than her.

  She jumped a little and watched as he rolled slightly to the side. Then she held in a scream when she noticed more blood gushing from his side, just above his hip.

  Instantly, instincts took over. She was on her knees beside him, opening his jacket fully and ripping his T-shirt up the front. Her hands quickly covered the large gash on his hip, putting as much pressure as she could on it.

  She didn’t flinch this time when he cursed and rolled his head with pain.

  “You need to go to an ER,” she said as she felt his warm blood seep through her fingers.

  “No!” He yanked her arms away from his hip. “No doctors or cops,” he growled out between clenched teeth as he kicked her front door shut with his foot.

  “Listen...” she started.

  “Caleb,” he broke in as his breathing hitched with pain.

  “Listen, Caleb.” Her eyes moved over him, searching for any other holes he might have in his skin. “If you don’t want to see a doctor, that’s up to you, but the way you’re bleeding, it won’t take long for you to lose every ounce you have.” She pushed his hands away from hers and covered his wound once more.

  Her eyes moved over to where she’d dumped her bag. She knew her phone was tucked just inside the side pocket.

  He started to get up, but she shoved him back down, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Don’t move,” she demanded and then leaned over to grab her bag.

  “No!” He wrapped his long fingers around her ankles and pulled her back towards him.

  Instincts kicked in and she started to fight him. She kicked out, but somehow, he ended up pushing her under his hard body, holding her still with his weight. She tried to fight, but soon he was pinning her down and glaring at her.

  “Promise me. No doctors and no cops,” he demanded. His shirt was soaked with blood and water from the rain outside. Which meant that her shirt was now soaked as well, causing it stick to her skin.

  His legs were holding hers down, no doubt to keep her from kicking him again. She felt his full weight holding her down and decided against struggling since she didn’t want to injure him further.

  “I can’t help you.” She moved slightly to push him off, but stopped when he moaned in pain. She felt his breathing hitch as he grabbed for his side. “You need a doctor,” she said a little more urgently. She’d never met a more hardheaded man before, especially one that was obviously in so much pain.

  “No,” he said, still clenching his teeth. “No doctors.”

  “Stubborn.” She glared up at him.

  “Promise me.” She could hear his voice waver and guessed that he was on the verge of passing out. But, looking into his dark eyes, she guessed that he’d hold onto consciousness until she made the promise.

  Instead of finding her voice, she nodded her head as her eyes locked with his. He seemed to take a few moments to decide if she could be trusted before rolling off her. When his shoulders rested on her tile floor, his eyes slid closed.

  “I’ll need my things.” She glanced over to her emergency bag after his eyes opened. She’d taken a Community Emergency Response Team class a few months back and had learned some basics about how to preform CPR as well as how to stop bleeding and stitch someone up. Everything she needed was in her neon green CERT bag which sat just behind her front door.

  She pointed to it, and when he nodded, she moved over and pulled the heavy thing towards her.

  He lay completely still as she doused his wound with alcohol. The fact that he didn’t flinch as the cool liquid cleansed the deep gash told her so much about the man. He was used to pain. When his eyes opened and met hers, she could see even more pain behind the darkness there.

  “I’ll need to sew this up.” She used a dish towel to wipe her hands clean.

  He nodded once more.

  She started to stand up, but he once more grabbed her ankle to stop her.

  “Billy?” His voice was low and when she met his eyes once more, she knew what he was asking.

  “Over twelve years ago to cancer.” When he dropped his hand, she turned and walked into her bathroom.

  Her hands shook as she pulled out her small sewing kit from under the sink. Setting it down on the counter, she rested her hands on the sink and leaned a little as she took a few deep breaths.

  Who was he? How did he know her father? So many questions ran through her mind, but one question dominated. Who had hurt him and why didn’t he want the police involved?

  When she felt a little steadier, she walked back out to the living room. The man hadn’t moved. As she leaned over him, his eyes slid open.

  “You should swallow these.” She held out two pills.

  He shook his head and closed his eyes with a groan.

  “Fine.” She rolled her eyes and thought of calling him stubborn once more. “This is going to hurt.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and she watched him tense as the sterile needle pierced his skin. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t realize he had lost consciousness until after she had covered the wound with a large square bandage.

  She sat over him for a few moments, debating what to do. Should she call the police, even though she had given him her word? She couldn’t explain it, but she didn’t feel as if she was in danger. Maybe it was because he was currently unconscious or maybe it was because she had seen something hidden behind those dark eyes of his.

  Standing up, her eyes ran over him once more. His T-shirt was ripped open, showing off an impressive chest and the sexiest six-pack she’d ever seen. His jeans hung low on his hips and her eyes followed the very tempting trail of dark hair that went from his lower navel to below his jeans. She couldn’t stop her mind from conjuring up images of what hid below.

  Shaking her head to clear it, she glanced down at herself and her ruined clothes and decided a hot shower might help clear her mind. She flipped the lock on the front door, just in case there were more of him out there. Or in case whoever had done this to him came looking for him. She shivered at the thought. She made her way into the bathroom and locked the door behind her before stripping off her ruined clothes. Jumping into a steaming shower, her mind turned to thoughts of what she was going to do next.

  Chapter Two

  Caleb’s head and hip were on fire. The shaking is what woke him from the deep sleep. He realized instantly that he was still laying on the cold tile just inside Billy’s daughter’s place.

  Reaching over, he touched the fresh bandage over his wound and held in a groan. Sitting up slowly, he tore off his jacket and finished ripping off his ruined T-shirt. He was trying to
peel off the bandage to get a better look at the wound, when he stopped cold as he heard talking in the next room. He pulled himself up quickly, only to grab hold of the back of the sofa as the room spun.

  He didn’t want to end up flat on his face again, so he took a few deep breaths until his head settled back onto his shoulders.

  The talking continued behind the door. He walked slowly over to it, but when he tried to turn the knob, he realized she’d locked him out. Who was she talking to? Was she calling the police?

  He used his shoulder until the door gave way the second time he hit it. He’d used most of his strength and was just able to stop himself from falling on the floor as he entered the small bathroom.

  She’d screamed when he’d pounded on the door, but now she stood there, behind a very sheer shower curtain, looking back at him. Her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders, which caused his eyes to travel further downwards. He could see a bright tattoo covering one of her shoulders that went all the way down to her mid-back. He had some ink himself—a small skull tattoo he’d gotten as an initiation into the Lone Outlaws—but nothing as impressive as hers. He couldn’t quite see what it was through the curtain.

  He blinked a few times as he realized he was standing there, gawking at her.

  “Sorry,” he started to say, only to watch her reach for a towel and almost slip and fall. He rushed forward to steady her just as she pushed him away. They both ended up falling backwards onto the floor directly in front of the sink.

  He’d rolled slightly so that he took most of the fall and when his hip connected with the tile, a loud groan escaped as he felt the newly stitched skin open again.

  “Damn it!” he cursed and closed his eyes as her wet, naked skin slid against his own. His mind was too focused on the pain shooting from his hip to notice how soft and wonderful she felt.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to push herself up. His arms moved around her and held her still until he could catch his breath. “Let me go!” She squirmed in his arms.

  “Hang on,” he growled under his breath, needing just a moment to catch his breath.

  “If you don’t let me up this moment, I’m going to...”

  He dropped his arms as his eyes slid closed.

  He heard her moving around, most likely covering up that luscious body of hers. Then he heard her gasp.

  “You’re bleeding again.”

  “Yeah,” he said without opening his eyes. “The reason I needed a moment.”

  “Why did you have to barge in here?” she said as she moved around the small room.

  His head was still spinning, so he chose to keep his eyes closed tight.

  “I thought...”—he took a few breaths as he felt her rip off the bandages— “you were calling someone.”

  “So?” she demanded as her fingers brushed over the torn stitches.

  “You promised.” His eyes finally opened. She was leaning over him, her long dark hair dripping down on him. She’d wrapped a bright yellow terry-cloth robe around herself. The color made her tan skin glow even more.

  “I promised not to call the police or an ambulance.” Her tone told him that she was annoyed at having to stitch him up again. “Not that I wouldn’t call someone else.”

  “Did you?” His question seemed to stop her. Her fingers stilled over his skin as her blue eyes met his. He could see sadness in them and felt a need to find out what had caused it.

  Finally, she seemed to decide on answering him and shook her head from side to side slowly.

  “No, I tend to talk to myself when I’m harboring what I can only assume is a fugitive.”

  “I’m not wanted.” He cringed a little at the lie.

  “Right.” The tone of her voice told him she knew.

  “By the police.” His eyes met hers. “Honest.”

  She stopped for a moment and then nodded. “Fair enough.” He lay back as she finished sewing him up.

  “Willa.” He started to say something, anything to reassure her.

  “Don’t call me that.” He watched her eyes narrow with a little anger.

  “Sorry, it’s just...” He shook his head and groaned as she placed another clean bandage over the wound.

  “Listen...” She leaned back. “I don’t know how you knew my father, but it’s clear—”

  Just then there was a knock at the front door. Every muscle in his body tensed as he jumped up and pushed her behind him. His mind raced with a million ways they could escape the tiny apartment.

  “What?” She tried to stand up, only to have him hold her still. “It’s probably my...”

  “No,” he growled, thinking it was Al or Tony. What had he done? He’d led the two men to the one place he swore he’d never go. “Do you have a car?” he asked, rushing over and reaching for his ruined T-shirt.

  “No.” She stopped his hands. “Yes, I mean, I have a car, but don’t put that thing on.”

  “Willow?” They stopped when a female voice called out from the other side of the front door.

  “It’s my sister,” she whispered.

  His body relaxed a bit. She walked into the front room and he followed her.

  She’d stopped in front of the tile floor, covered with his blood. “I’ll get rid of her.” She nodded for him to stand behind the door.

  He watched her tuck her robe tighter around her front. When she opened the door, he saw her face soften.

  “Hey.” She leaned against the door so her sister wouldn’t see into the apartment. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of a shower.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to drop off the invitations.”

  “Yay!” Willow said and he could hear the excitement in her voice. “When are you sending them out?”

  “Next week.” Her sister’s voice was a little higher pitched than Willow’s was. “Can you believe it?”

  Willow laughed. “What? That you’re getting married or that you’re marrying Cole Grayton?” She chuckled and the richness of her laughter melted something buried deep inside him.

  “Both.” Her sister’s laughter didn’t affect him in the same way. He stood between the door and the wall as the two women chatted for a few minutes. “Well, I’d better get going or I’ll be late for work. See you tomorrow.” He watched as Willow leaned in and hugged her sister.

  When she finally shut the door, his knees almost gave way.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “For?” She leaned against the door and glanced at him. Her eyes moved over his chest, then zeroed in on the white bandage above his hip.

  “For not telling her about me.” His eyes met hers.

  “Why did I do that?” She leaned her head against the door. “Who are you hiding from?” Her eyes moved to his once more.

  His head was spinning and he doubted he had the strength to stand much longer. What he needed was a warm meal, a hot shower, and a bed.

  “Later.” He pushed off from the wall and started to pick up his ruined shirt again.

  “Don’t.” She interrupted him. “I have a clean shirt that should fit you.” She walked around the blood-covered tile and disappeared into the back room. When she came out again, he was on his hands and knees, using the dish towel to clean up his blood. He thought he would make himself useful and couldn’t imagine forcing her to clean up all that blood herself.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said. She’d changed into a dark gray sweatshirt and tight black leggings that hugged every curve. He felt his mouth go dry knowing he’d seen what was underneath it all.

  She set a pile of clothes for him on the sofa. “Why don’t you go clean yourself up while I finish that.”

  He took his time standing up, and then nodded as he grabbed the clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “Caleb?” Her voice stopped him from shutting the door. “Keep your bandage clean and dry.”

  He nodded his head again and shut the door between them.

  Leaning his forehead against the
cool wood of the door, he took a few cleansing breaths to try and stop the world from spinning.

  Why hadn’t she told her sister he was there?

  A better question was; why did he get the hint that she trusted him?

  Willow watched Caleb disappear into her bathroom and wondered why she’d hidden his presence from her sister. Maybe it was because she knew Wendy hated everything to do with their father.

  She thought about her actions as she quickly cleaned up the blood and tossed his torn and bloody shirt into the trash can. Then she pulled out the fixings for grilled cheese sandwiches and potato soup.

  When Caleb walked out of her bathroom again, he was wearing an old pair of Jake’s shorts and one of his forgotten T-shirts. The shirt was too small and tight on Caleb, which only accented all those gorgeous muscles she’d been admiring since he’d fallen in her doorway.

  “Feeling better?” she asked as she watched his movements. She could tell he was in pain and weak from the loss of blood.

  “Much.” His eyes were glued to the sandwich and soup she’d set down on the table.

  “Sit, eat. You’ll feel better after you get something in you.” She held out the chair for him.

  “Why are you doing this?” His eyes moved to hers. She could see confusion there.

  “I’m not one-hundred percent sure myself.” She walked over and poured herself a bowl of soup, then sat across from him at her small table.

  He continued watching her.

  “Eat.” She scooped up a spoonful and started eating. He quickly followed suit.

  “Thank you,” he said once his bowl and sandwich were gone.

  “Are you going to tell me who did this to you?” She leaned back in her chair and watched him.

  He rolled his shoulders and rested his elbows on the table. He was looking pale and very tired.

  “I guess you can say, in a roundabout way, it’s your father’s fault that I’m here. He’s the reason I’m alive and the reason I was shot.”

  “Shot?” She sat up. “I thought you were stabbed.” She looked towards his side again.

  He shook his head. “I’m lucky it just grazed me.” He ran his hand over his hip.