While Viper and his men were being trussed up, swearing and struggling and putting up a fight that threatened to overpower some of the locals, Paige marched out of the trees with her med kit in her hand and the sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. One by one, Viper and his men grew still. It had been a girl who’d taken their buddy out and the sight of her took the heart out of them.
She went straight to work, ignoring the emptiness in her chest, the tears that hovered behind her eyes but wouldn’t fall. Paige dropped to one knee beside the farmer with the arm wound. He was a young man, maybe thirty, clean shaven, skinny and wiry with brown hair, and pain in his dark eyes. The hand at the end of his wounded arm shook. Paige opened her med kit, grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his sleeve open.
“Not bad,” she said with practiced nonchalance as she packed gauze into the wound. She led him over to the truck’s running board and sat him down. “You’ll be okay. You’ll have a sexy scar though. The ladies will love it,” she teased on autopilot, mouthing encouragement and calming him by rote.
“Don’t know about the ladies but my wife’ll kill me.” He breathed unsteadily and winced when Paige injected him with morphine.
She barely noticed when one of her platoon mates eased the sniper rifle off her shoulder and carried it away.
You killed someone.
Paige ignored the voice in her head and packed more gauze as blood soaked through the first layer. Suddenly every muscle in her body ached like she’d been hit by a moving vehicle. She ignored that too.
“Any more injuries?” she called out firmly, turned and looked around.
You took a life.
“A broken nose.” She heard Rick’s voice...deep, commanding, drowning out the one in her head. “He can wait.”
Believing him, Paige turned back to her patient, aware of movement around her now. Their transport vehicles approached. Good guys loaded bad guys into it. She snapped on a pair of sterile gloves and lifted a corner of the gauze. Blood was still oozing but not so bad now. The bullet had grazed his arm, deep enough to tear across the muscle but no deeper. She nodded firmly. “Some stitches will take care of it. It’ll hurt for a few days but you’ll be all right.” Paige felt her mouth form her reassuring, professional smile as she looked at the man. She started cleaning his wound.
For the first time in four days, the platoon split up. Most were sent back to their base camp with the prisoners. They’d be picked up the next morning by an MP transport convoy. Five soldiers, Paige included, returned to town. As she waited her turn to climb into the back of the supply wagon, she felt a man’s arm come around her shoulders from behind.
“Thanks, Wynn. You did good.” Lieutenant Pembroke’s voice was unnaturally quiet. He squeezed her shoulder gently then released her before walking away.
Paige didn’t feel like smiling when she climbed in. She ached everywhere—her back from too many bumpy roads and too many nights in a camp cot, her head, her belly. But mostly her hands hurt. They hurt all the time now from too many unrelieved hours at the clinic, administering too many injections and laying too many stitches. Two tablets of ASA got her going in the morning but they’d worn off long ago. Not feeling the eyes of her platoon mates as they glanced over at her worriedly, she flexed her fingers gingerly. The truck was moving now but she paid attention only to the sight of her hands as they turned over slowly, wondering how they could look like a nineteen-year-old’s hands, and feel like a seventy-nine-year-old’s.
“Come here, Winnie.” Corporal Benny Weston sighed quietly and slid out of his seat. He sat on the floor in front of her and took one of her hands in his. Wordlessly, he began to massage it with gentle, almost indifferent sweeps of his thumbs. The others watched him then sat back, grabbing what rest they could.
Paige looked up and her eyes found Rick’s. The intense blue of them was focused on her. She saw so much emotion there...pain, regret, compassion, love. She turned away quickly. If she looked at him again she’d lose it completely. He’d been right. There could be no contact between them. No touching. No looks. She felt his presence clear through to her soul but this life, this job they did left no room for such intimacies. She couldn’t function with him in her heart. She closed that door ruthlessly.
Rick looked away after Paige did, feeling a piece of himself die. He wished today could have gone down differently. She was a healer, not a killer. Them grabbing her out of that reclamation unit had turned her into one. Did she know how much he loved her at that moment? He’d never told her. He’d just grabbed her and shoved his tongue down her throat then bit her ass that one day. Manhandled her like she was a cheap whore. But Corporal Paige Wynn was now fully a part of Eaglebird Recon. He saw it in the men’s eyes. Hell, they’d even come up with a nickname for her. And even if a little part of her liked him, was drawn to him, they could never be more than this—sergeant and corporal. He pulled the brim of his cap low and rubbed his eyes to hide the misery welling inside him as they bounced down the road to Edenton.
About two hours before sundown, the Keane brothers showed up at Paige’s temporary clinic. She glanced up and smiled, expecting some sort of bawdy crack from them and, the way she felt, actually looked forward to anything that might make her smile. But their faces were drawn and anxious.
“Momma asked us to get you. Ask if you could come.”
“She works as midwife around here and she needs help.”
Paige glanced up at Private Samuel Rutherford who was watching over her that afternoon. “See if you can’t get the LT for me, Rutter?”
Chapter Four
“You’re doing fine. Another big breath. Push.”
Paige had repelled the baby’s arm and shoulder back into the woman’s uterus, pushing and pulling to make it work while explaining everything to Flora Keane. Now they were simply waiting for nature to take its course. When the baby did finally get around to being born, its arm was swollen but Paige assured the mother that would go down quickly. As soon as it started to cry it pinked up dramatically. Both parents sighed with open relief.
Later, sitting at the kitchen table, Paige sat back wearily and looked up when Corporal Benny Weston walked in.
“The LT radioed. Says we’re to stay here for the night. He doesn’t want any of us traveling the roads after dark.” He adjusted the weight of the assault rifle across his shoulder. “We’ll take up positions around the perimeter of the house but you might as well sleep inside.” He glanced around nervously then took a step toward her. “How can you stand it when they scream like that?” he whispered anxiously and glanced up at the second floor.
Paige grinned. “Childbirth hurts, Benny. You try pushing a grapefruit through an orifice the size of a lime.”
Benny paled and swallowed convulsively. “Jeez, Winnie, don’t say shit like that.” He shuddered but pulled himself together when Missus Keane came into the room.
“Good evening, Corporal. Did she tell you? A beautiful, healthy baby boy. Almost a full six pounds from the looks of him,” Flora Keane said with open pride.
Paige smiled dutifully, profoundly sad these people thought six pounds was a birth weight to boast about.
“Now, you boys want to eat all at once or take turns?” Flora asked matter-of-factly. She gestured at the food that had been arriving all day—gifts from the new parents’ relatives and neighbors.
“In turns, ma’am,” Benny answered politely, flashed her one of his winning smiles then stepped outside to send in the first group of soldiers.
Late that night, Paige stood in the family’s second-floor bathroom, sponging herself clean. Like many houses in unreclamated areas, this one had been jury-rigged with a cistern on the roof. It gravity-fed rain water into the bathroom.
The house was quiet now. The new parents were catching some sleep in their room at the far end of the house. Their new son was sleeping in a cradle at the foot of their bed. Flora Keane had left in time to make it home before sundown. Her sons had elected to stay. At first, they s
aid, they’d thought the Army was protective of Paige because she was a girl. They’d eventually figured out Paige was equal to any one of them and the men of her unit guarded her because she was a medic.
They’d taken it upon themselves to stay and help. There were now six men guarding the farmhouse, not four, and that meant they could take shifts.
From downstairs, Paige heard muffled voices and heavy footsteps. The second shift had relieved the first and soon the living room sofas would be occupied by sprawling, snoring soldiers. Except for the Keane brothers. They’d been allotted a spare room on the second floor and Paige heard the worn, wood steps creak as they started upstairs.
She finished her sponge bath quickly, tidied up the bathroom and tiptoed back to the room she’d been given for the night. Dressed in a borrowed robe, Paige simply sat on the end of the narrow bed, looking out the window. Every inch of her still ached and her head had gone numb to avoid dealing with what she’d done today. It had been the right thing. The only thing to do. Us or them. Kill or be killed. But the arguments and metaphors couldn’t sink in and she just wished her body could be as numb as her head.
In the room beside hers, she heard the Keane brothers moving around. She heard one then the other go in and out of the bathroom, saw the shadow of a candle illuminate the crack at the bottom of her door as they walked past, heard the murmurs of their conversation on the other side of the wall. Heard a muffled laugh. Paige pictured them in her head. Clear brown eyes and that wavy dark blond hair that shone in the sunlight. She actually smiled when she thought about their blatant come-ons and their unrelenting sensuality. Nobody had ever told her that civilians were off-limits before reclamation was confirmed. They thought she was a lesbian and dealt with her looks by seeing her as asexual. Like brothers saw sisters. With all that, why would they bother telling her?
Paige was completely caught off-guard when she realized she was fantasizing about having Sam and Flint at the same time. What it would be like...two mouths, two bodies pressing in on hers. Two cocks jumping to attention to service her needs.
And she did have needs she realized as her legs shifted nervously. So much repressed pain and guilt. It would be nice to feel some pleasure instead. Rick’s sculpted, rugged face popped into her head but she let it go quickly. Yes she wanted him but that could never happen. A girl had to accept what was and move on. Paige stood up and padded out into the hall to see if the Keane brothers were all talk.
Or all man.
“Come in.” Sam crossed over to the door in response to the faint knock. His gentle brown eyes widened then one corner of his sensual mouth came up when the door opened.
“Hi,” Paige whispered. She glanced in and nodded to Flint who was sitting on the edge of the double bed. “Thanks for taking a guard shift. How was it?” she asked.
Not too lame an excuse, she thought.
“Well come on in and we’ll tell you about it,” Flint whispered happily. He’d already taken his shirt off. Paige could see that he’d lost weight but his muscles were still defined and lean, and the sun had turned his skin a dark gold. He flexed his wounded leg absently and looked up at her with open delight.
The brothers exchanged a look—surprise and arousal—when she slipped inside and shut the door behind her.
The long, faded silk of Paige’s robe parted, revealing a length of thigh when she sat down beside Flint and crossed her legs. Sam took a long, obviously pleased look at her, closed the curtains then sat down on the other side of her.
He lifted her hand and stroked her fingers gently. “It’s dark. We walked around. Somebody relieved us,” he whispered curtly then smiled. “Now let’s talk about these talented, gorgeous hands.”
“Hmm...” Flint breathed, picking up the other hand. “Strong fingers. Beautiful fingers,” he murmured hotly, using that sensual tone she was so used to hearing from him—from both of them. “You know, Paige, I have to confess. I was a little sorry when my leg got better.” He lifted his face and his brown eyes smiled at her. “I miss your touch.” His smile morphed into hot lust and he stroked her fingers deliberately. His hand moved across her wrist, her forearm then trailed across the back of her hand.
“I was jealous,” Sam whispered hotly. “Thought about taking an axe to myself. Though I’ve never been a foolish man.” He lifted her hand and raised it to his mouth. His eyes drifted shut as he smoothed his warm mouth across her palm. When he opened them he looked directly at her, revealing a hot, banked need that took Paige’s breath.
She licked her lips tremulously and his eyes flared. “What are you doing?” she asked—half self-serving protest, half tease.
“Trying very hard to seduce you, Paige,” Flint answered. Not to be outdone, he lifted her other hand and kissed her inner wrist. He slid his roughened fingers beneath the voluminous sleeve of her robe and caressed the soft skin around her elbow.
She licked her lips again. “Well it’s working,” she murmured and gasped when Sam moved toward her suddenly. His mouth hovered over hers and he held it there for just an instant. He stroked her lower lip with his, teasing her with his nearness. The half kiss was more lure than cure to the heat curling in her belly. His mouth then his teeth closed over her lip and Paige shuddered.
“This...” she exhaled shakily, leaning back, “doesn’t mean anything. I’m just using you. For sex.”
“I can live with that,” Sam murmured and slid his warm, rough hand around the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his.
“Yeah. No problem,” Flint whispered, drew the edge of her robe down and brushed his lips across her shoulder.
Paige sighed wantonly, loving their closeness, their warmth. The Keanes were uncomplicated and being with them, the two of them together, was deliciously decadent. Sinful and hot in a way that made her loins tighten in an erotic rush.
Sam’s mouth feathered across hers. His full, soft lips pulled gently then released. The sound of his breath filled her ears. Was warm on the bridge of her nose. Flint’s mouth tugged delicately on her skin. He tasted her with a quiet reverence that made her shiver and wrap her hand around his forearm. Without preamble and without words, he tugged on the edge of her robe again, letting it slide across her breast until her nipple sprang into view. It hardened as soon as the cool air hit it.
“Hmm...beautiful,” Flint murmured hotly and slid his palm across her then held the slight weight carefully, pressing in and squeezing with great care. He bit down delicately on her shoulder.
Lifting his head from hers, Sam looked down. His warm, dark eyes blazed when he saw his brother’s rough hand on Paige’s pale, pink skin. He brushed her long hair back so it wouldn’t obstruct his view then turned and smoothed his mouth against her ear. “You’re beautiful, Paige,” he whispered earnestly and kissed the sensitive shell with a bare pursing of his lips. “So beautiful,” he breathed then looked down and eased the other sleeve of her robe down, letting the silk pool gracefully around her hips. Sam just looked at her...her round breast, firm and sitting high on her chest, her pink nipple stark against the milkiness of her skin. He bent to her and drew the tip of his tongue across her, his hand on her back, holding her to him when she bucked and moaned.
Flint’s mouth moved over her shoulder and up her neck. He scored her delicately with his teeth then soothed her skin with soft sweeps of his lips. Then he kissed her. His taste was unique to him yet so like Sam’s. Their scents were almost the same although Flint’s was earthier, Sam’s spicier.
Paige felt herself being tipped back and she wove her arms around Flint’s neck, drawing him close, moaning softly when his tongue speared her mouth and stroked teasingly. His shoulder pressed her into the worn mattress. His hand was still on her breast, his brother’s mouth on its mate, sucking gently. Sam’s tongue swirled lazily around her nipple. Paige felt his hot breath as he leaned back and admired his handiwork—the lush swelling of her nipple, spit-wet and shining in the candlelight. He pinched it carefully until her breath caught and her back
arched.
So nice. So nice to be touched, held, her body worshipped. The sound of their breathing grew louder. Lips and hands caressed her. Soft waves of hair drifted between her fingers. She felt the tug of Sam’s mouth on her breast then Flint’s mouth as he kissed a path down her body, pausing to nip and draw on her throat. Two mouths, suckling her at once. Hands eclipsing her breasts, holding her firmly but carefully. So soft. Everything so soft and loving and warm with candlelight flickering around her and Paige sighed. A lecherous smile lifted one corner of her mouth. Sam lifted his head and smiled back at her. His hand was still on her breast then his mouth was on hers. His tongue sank slow and deep then twined with hers, his neatly muscled body trembling when she stroked his tongue then slid into his mouth. Taking his warmth and taste. Giving hers.
“Lay back, Paige,” Flint ordered quietly, slipping his hand beneath her arm. He eased her long body up the bed. Sam, on her other side, levered his body smoothly and took her other arm.
Their combined strength slid her up gently until her head was resting on feather pillows and their bodies rested against hers. Rick had lifted her. Had needed no one’s strength but his own to haul her body around like her weight and height were nothing. Paige turned from the memory ruthlessly. He would not be part of this—this intimate loving. Could never be and Paige sunk her fingers into Sam’s wavy hair and drew his mouth to hers. Drowning out Rick’s face and eyes and strength by driving her tongue deep and immersing herself in Sam’s taste. The scent of his skin. The feel of Flint’s warm, selfless mouth on her breast.
Her robe was skewed around her hips. One leg was completely bare. Her mound was covered only by a draped edge that she felt one of them
Sam? Flint?
draw away from her body. Warm, gentle fingers stroked the red curls on her mound. Rolling a little to one side, Paige slid her hands down their bodies. Down Flint’s bare chest. The front of Sam’s shirt. Found the button flys of their jeans then the hard wedge of their cocks, pressed so tight against their pants that she wondered if the material would split.
Gwen Campbell - [Love from the Ashes 02] Page 8
