Military Heroes Romantic Suspense Collection

by V. R. Marks

  "I'm not going in there with my boots on."

  "Reasonable." He dropped to his knees in front of her, taking in the view of those long lean legs clad in snug jeans tucked into knee high black boots. The desire to run his palms over those subtle curves was about as far from field-medic clinical as thoughts could get. "Put your hands on my shoulders. For balance." Keeping her eyes closed tight, she did as instructed, with his guidance. Her touch did nothing to restore his control. It was like he'd never been close to a woman before.

  "We should've bought a shoe shine kit," he said. Anything to distract him as he peeled soft leather away from firm her firm calves.

  "You're right. I can't believe I didn't think of that."

  He laughed at her sincere concern for her shoes. "They've had a tough time, but they'll pull through."

  She chuckled and he glanced up. Instead of white hotel towel, his gaze was trapped by her big brown eyes. 'Doe eyes', his mother would call them. In his mind, he stood up, cradled her face and kissed her until the fire, blood, and the rest was a hazy memory. She jerked upright, reminding him none of that was an option.

  "Need help with the jeans?" he asked with a theatrical leer.

  "No, thank you."

  "Hey, I'm a guy, it's a fair question." He stood up, her boots in one hand and her disappointment in him obvious. "When you're in, I'll put a towel over the door so you don't scare yourself again."

  "Thanks." She put her fingers under the spray and adjusted the temperature.

  "I'll bring in the first aid supplies when you're ready. Just yell."

  "Right."

  "The, um, red stuff won't bother you in there?"

  "I don't intend to look."

  "Good plan."

  But he waited by the closed door, listening for any sound that wasn't normal. The shower door opened and closed. Probably her jeans and socks. A few minutes later there was a wet slap of something against the tile. The shirt, no doubt. After that it was just water and his over-active imagination painting an all too clear picture of her skin glossy with water and soap, her hair –

  Torture, pure and simple. Uncomfortable, he adjusted himself in his jeans and turned his attention to opening the many boxes of first aid supplies. If any of those wounds were still bleeding, she'd need help with it.

  On cue, the water stopped and she called his name.

  Walking in, he vowed to keep his eyes on hers. It was a damned hard challenge when she cowered at the edge of the shower, her face turned away and the towel leaving too much of her body exposed. Those legs…

  "One is still bleeding. I think."

  Clinical. Professional. Cold dead fish. He had to get control of himself. "Turn around."

  She did and he swore under his breath.

  "I'm sorry I'm a wimp."

  "If you really can't handle this yourself, can you trust me or do you want me to take you to a hospital?"

  "No!"

  "Okay. Then I'm your medic." Clinical not carnal, he thought, reaching out to her. She placed her hand in his, letting him guide her out of the bathroom.

  The bed was too intimate, too tempting. He pointed to the chair instead.

  She shivered as she tried to make the towel cover more than it possibly could. He handed her a blanket, then set to work on the gouges marring the delicate skin between her collar bone and disappearing under the edge of the towel.

  The wound just under the rise of her collar bone was indeed still bleeding. "Just stare at the ceiling," he advised, pressing a square of gauze on the spot. "Hold that. Gently," he added when she pressed hard enough to make herself wince.

  "I'm going to lower this a bit."

  "You're the doctor," she said.

  He wasn't sure just what god-awful thing he'd done to deserve this kind of punishment, but he managed to treat the deep scratches with antibiotic cream, covering the worst of them, without doing anything inappropriate.

  "Good Lord, you look like you went a few rounds with that kid and his knife."

  "What kid?"

  Crap. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Later." He tugged the towel up again. "For now, let's get you put back together."

  He lifted her fingers from the gauze, unhappy to see it had soaked through. It really needed a few stitches, but he wasn't about to bring up the hospital idea again.

  He'd dealt with blood and worse both in and out of the Army. Why this woman's injuries bothered him so much was beyond his ability to reason right now. He used the butterfly closures, smeared the wound with antibiotic cream and covered it with a thick gauze pad.

  "All set."

  She met his gaze, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks."

  "Don't blame me if it scars ugly."

  "Guys don't dig scars?"

  "Nah, that's a chick thing." Her slow smile was worth the bad joke. He handed over her new shirt and the athletic shorts from his emergency stash in his backpack. "You won't scare yourself now. I'll clean up in there while you change."

  She swallowed and gave him a jerky nod. If he didn't know better he'd think the intense attraction he was fighting went both ways.

  * * *

  Nicole wasn't sure how she managed to stand up and dress on her shaking knees. She hadn't had an excessive amount of medical care in her life, but she'd never had a reaction like that, no matter how cute the doctor or nurse. Rick's touch, simply administering first aid, created a sensual fire she wanted to explore.

  Good grief, she couldn't remember feeling like this with any of her boyfriends. Of course she didn't let men too close anymore.

  Bewildered by such a strong attraction to a stranger, she felt guilt creeping into the mix. He was here because Allie was in trouble and yet her own problems might put all of that in jeopardy.

  She couldn't bear it if her past sent more lives spiraling into chaos.

  Hearing the shower come on, she realized now was her chance to leave. Better for everyone if she did. A quick walk back to the store –

  The bathroom door opened and Rick's head appeared. "Stay."

  She bristled. "I'm not a dog." Her skin heated as his eyes raked her head to toe.

  "Nope. Not even close."

  "Then –"

  "A dog would listen," he said with a wink. "And not even your sexy boots can make that look work."

  He shut the door before she could protest or defend herself.

  Irritation burned off the sensual haze, but still she couldn't just let him get sucked into the vortex that was her life. Witness Protection might sound like a good plan when nasty people wanted you dead, but the reality wasn't as charming. Especially with no end in sight. As capable as Rick had proven himself, what man could defend himself indefinitely from a determined gang with outlandish resources?

  Despite what he said, despite the fashion tragedy that was her current outfit, she had to leave. It was the kindest thing she could do.

  Determined, she picked up her scuffed boots and went out to the front room to find her purse.

  It wasn't where she thought she'd left it on the table. She glanced around, not seeing it anywhere. She looked at the door, but knew it was absurd to think anyone who might have found them only wanted her purse.

  Battling panic, she pulled on her boots before starting to search. Rick must have stashed it to keep her here. No problem. She opened cabinets, looked behind and under things. In the bedroom she checked the drawers and closet, even under the bed.

  No purse.

  She was calling Rick every ugly name in the book as she felt her hope for escape, her best chance for reclaiming her life, sliding out of her grasp.

  His backpack sat there open. Maybe, if there was cash or even a credit card, she could borrow enough to get her to the locker at the train station.

  Hating herself – furious with him for pushing her into a corner – she reached for the zipper on the outside pocket. It sounded too loud as she pulled the tab and she immediately glanced toward the bathroom. The door was closed and the water sti
ll running. The sight of a granola bar, an iPod, and high end ear buds momentarily deflated her.

  Leaving was the best thing for both of them. She didn't owe him anything, not really. The lie didn't feel right even in her mind. She shouldn't be trying to steal from the man who'd saved her from any number of injuries on that ladder and from her fear of blood just minutes ago. Still, she'd have a vital head start on the federal marshals if he hadn't interfered at the airport. Probably.

  Gritting her teeth against the guilt of snooping, she went for the next zipper.

  "Find what you're after?"

  She jumped as if she'd been hit with an electric current. With no good way to explain, she went on the offensive. "Where is my purse?"

  "Safe."

  "You mean like I'm safe with you?"

  "No."

  She turned around to ask him what he meant by that and wished she hadn't. He leaned against the doorway wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Her mouth went dry and a ripple of pure feminine lust rushed over her skin.

  She knew she was blushing, could feel the heat of it in her cheeks. Worse, she couldn't stop staring at that wide expanse of his muscled chest dusted with golden hair. Damp from the shower it almost shimmered.

  She wanted her camera to capture the raw masculine form as well as to hide the wild reactions racing through her. He could probably hear her heart pounding from there.

  He took a step closer, snapping her out of her stupor. "I put your purse in the room safe."

  "Oh." Her eyes latched onto a puckered scar on his side and she had to drag her gaze up to his face. It wasn't a hardship.

  And she was being rude. He hadn't leered at her this way.

  "Umm. Wow. Sorry. You must stop traffic in the gym." Could she babble any more? What was the issue here? Oh yeah. "Why is my purse in the safe?"

  "So you couldn't leave."

  She could hardly blame him for not trusting her when she had been trying to do exactly that.

  Slumping onto the edge of the bed, she went for as much honesty as she could spare. "I think it's for the best if we part ways."

  "I disagree." He sat down beside her, the towel gaping to show off too much of his perfect thigh. At this rate a long swim in the Arctic Ocean was her only hope of restoring a normal body temperature.

  "You should consider fitness modeling."

  He laughed and his grin gave her a new, more appropriate focus. "Seriously. I know my way around a camera and –"

  His gaze was locked on her mouth. She wanted him to lean closer, was tempted to lean into him for a kiss she knew would be worth the risk. The moment spun out and gave a whole new meaning to 'stranger danger'.

  "Camera?"

  She blinked as his question and the sharp edge in his voice brought her back to her senses. "I always have it with me."

  It was the one piece of herself that she never left behind. They'd asked her to, but since tons of people were photography enthusiasts and she never published her photos as art, she'd convinced them to back off.

  "Did you take pictures of the fire?"

  "No. Not really."

  "Not really or no?"

  "No. I used my camera and my work ID to get closer to the building."

  His gaze dipped down to the wounds he'd treated, then popped back up to her face. "To save a lizard."

  "Oscar was important to Mrs. Beaumont and she's always been nice to me."

  He shook his head. "If that kid thought you had proof, maybe that's why he cut the ladder."

  Chapter 3

  "The ladder was cut?" She hadn't been sure with her arms full of angry lizard. "I thought maybe it had broken when I climbed up. On the way down, I was too busy trying to contain Oscar."

  "Yeah, I watched a kid slice it up right after you went inside."

  She lurched to her feet. "You let someone cut my escape route?"

  "Hey, I stayed to make sure you got out safely."

  He had a point, but still. "Why?"

  "I saw the gang colors and thought I'd be more use to you if I wasn't fighting off a team." He stood up as well, advancing on her once more. "I hoped it was something as stupid as a gang jump in, but your subsequent behavior makes me think otherwise."

  Her stomach pitched. If he so much as guessed at the truth he'd be in more trouble than anyone deserved. "Just how does following me help Allie?"

  "Where's your computer?"

  "What?" She didn't see what one thing had to do with the other.

  "You IM with her all the time right?"

  "We did." A lump of regret lodged in her throat. Allie had been her longest running friend. Until he said it, she hadn't realized –

  "Your computer?"

  "One is now ash thanks to that fire and my work computer is currently an oversized paperweight. IT was supposed to get me a replacement, but as of close of business today, it hadn't shown up."

  "What happened to it?"

  "I don't know. It's just dead. You think you can fix it from here?"

  "No. Your IM account was hacked and Allie received messages from someone posing as you."

  Nicole weighed that information against the gang kid who'd cut the ladder. The incidents couldn't be related. Nicole Livingston had been a steady, safe identity for years. No one at the office could possibly know the ugly truth of her past. On normal days, if she didn't think about it, she almost felt complete as Nicole.

  "What are you thinking?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know what to think. Allie's safe right?"

  "Yes. I'm not sure she's out of danger, but she has help and they'll get her through it."

  Nicole figured that was as much as she could hope for. "The rumors circulating at work about her are awful. People are saying she stole from the company. But that's not Allie. And her boss hasn't been in for a couple of days. It's shocking what small-minded people I work with." She rubbed her temples and paced away from him. "If someone at work hacked my IM…" This time the chill on her spine had nothing to do with sensual awareness.

  "Are you away from your desk regularly?"

  His voice muffled, she turned back, relieved that Rick and his towel had retreated to the bathroom. "Isn't everyone? We have meetings and there's a security crew or janitorial staff. I'm not sure the building is ever empty."

  "Do you ever use the camera for business?" He reappeared in jeans and a snug black t-shirt that made his biceps look bigger. For some ridiculous reason, she found him almost more tempting dressed.

  "Yes." She gasped. "You think that's why they burned down my building?"

  He froze, one hand in his damp hair. His eyes locked with hers and the intensity shocked her. She'd said too much.

  "What makes you think arson?"

  Her throat dry, it required a concentrated effort to get the words out. "You said you saw a gang banger. I, ah, just made the leap."

  "A lot of drug activity in your building?"

  "No. N-none that I know of."

  "Stolen goods?"

  "This really isn't my area of expertise."

  "No? You sure?"

  "What are you implying? I go to work, I come home. Just a normal, boring woman."

  Rick disagreed. Although the quick background check supported her statement, there was more under the surface. More she was desperate to hide from him. From the rest of the world too, he'd bet.

  "I'm going to give you your camera. Not the purse." He smiled when she grumbled at his autocratic statement. Blocking her view as he punched in the combination, he opened the safe and withdrew her camera. Smiling, he handed it over, giving her a long look. "You've gotta tell me what the plan was."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Come on, Nicole. You were going through my backpack, I assume for money."

  "For the vending machine."

  He laughed. "Uh-huh. You're in baggy shorts, a Beatles t-shirt, and sexy scuffed boots. How far did you think you'd get before you got picked up for soliciting? Or worse."

  She paled
. Clearly she hadn't thought of everything. It confirmed his opinion that she was too desperate to make a clean getaway from whatever frightened her.

  His ego wasn't so overblown as to think she'd want to stay with him just for his charming smile. But if she believed it was arson – aimed at her – and that someone cut the ladder on purpose to trap or injure her, surely he was a better option than a cold night on the street.

  He tried a new approach. "Can we make a deal, Nicole?"

  She peered at him from under her lashes. "What kind of deal?"

  "I was told you and Allie are close."

  "Best friends," she said with a nod and dropped her gaze back to the display on her camera.

  "Then think of this potential deal from her point of view. She's worried about you. Knowing you're safe with me, a trusted member of the team protecting her, gives her peace of mind."

  He waited for Nicole to recognize the logic in that. At last she set the camera aside and met his gaze. "What's the deal?"

  "Stay with me for the next forty-eight hours and I'll get you wherever you are so determined to go."

  "Why?"

  "Which part?"

  "The time requirement first." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

  He tried not to look. He'd been lying when he said the boots didn't work with the shorts. Probably not in a fashion sense, but the view of all that leg was stirring up crazy fantasies he didn't know he had. It was all too easy to imagine her in those boots and nothing at all.

  "I need the time to determine if the fire is related to Allie's case. And I want to take a look at your recent photos."

  "That means we stay in town."

  He noted the defensive posture of her crossed arms, the burst of nerves that set one foot to tapping. "Only for one more day."

  "Then you're no good at math."

  "The second day is for traveling. We actually don't need the whole day, but just in case there's trouble."

  "Travel where?"

  "South Carolina. I thought you might like to see Allie once more."

  He caught the flash of interest and the sudden sheen of tears in her big brown eyes before she looked away. "That could be nice."