by Jayne Rylon
“No, but I might be tempted to go back there and kill someone else if I keep seeing the proof of their filthy hands on you.” He spat on the ground without glancing at her.
Ellie glanced at the maroon fingermarks that would likely bruise her breasts by morning. “Oh.”
She yanked up her sweetheart neckline and finished tucking herself into place. Then she stripped her battery from her phone, slipped it into the pocket of her dress and spun on her heel, which sank into the muddy ground. With Lucas wearing his prosthesis and her in these stupid shoes, they weren’t going to be moving very fast. She wanted to put as much distance as possible between her and her house while they could. Even if it meant marching into pitch-black woods.
“Let’s get the hell out of here then.”
“Good idea, E.”
Chapter Four
After thirty minutes, Ellie was fairly sure no one was going to jump out from behind a tree and shoot them. Lucas seemed to concur, since he’d jammed his gun in the waistband of his pants so that he could use both hands to steady himself as they plunged deeper into the forest. That seemed like a pretty decent way to shoot off his fine ass, but she figured he knew what he was doing since he had ninja-level fighting skills.
He’d also slowed his pace from Olympic-record-setting to I’m-about-to-miss-a-bus-and-the-next-one-isn’t-for-an-hour. Maybe that had more to do with his leg than his assessment of their safety level, though. His limp was definitely pronounced, compared to when they’d started out.
The moon was bright out here in the middle of nowhere. She could see his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. Focusing on that helped her keep going while her feet screamed in agony. Sweat poured down Lucas’s temples and his jaw was clamped so tight she was afraid he might crack a tooth.
“Psst.” Her hiss sounded as loud as his gunshot had earlier, ringing in her ears after their long, silent march.
His head whipped around. The intensity of his stare would have frightened her if she hadn’t known—all the way to her soul—that he would never be a threat to her. At least not physically.
Her heart was another matter. The damn thing wanted him, even though he’d turned her down eleventy-bazillion times already.
“Need a break?” he asked.
She didn’t, but she thought he might. So she lied, “If it’s not going to put us in a terrible position, yes.”
“I think we can afford a couple minutes.”
He slowed then used his T-shirt-covered biceps to scrub his forehead. They’d been following a stream uphill, against the flow. She guessed it was leading them to the lake behind his house.
It probably would have been a beautiful hike if she could see more than ten feet in front of her, or if she’d been dressed appropriately, or if maniacs weren’t hunting them. Preferably all of the above.
He scoped out the area, ushering her to a fallen tree nestled in a mound of bushes. When they sat, huddled close together, each facing in opposite directions so they didn’t have their backs to anything, he sighed. Even that tiny admission of relief was monumental for Lucas.
Ellie tried to relate. “I would love to kick off my shoes for a second, but I’m afraid I’ll never get them back on if I do.”
How much worse must it be for him?
He grunted. “I hear that. Unfortunately, I do need to take this thing off to make a quick adjustment.”
Lucas knocked his prosthesis against the tree trunk twice in rapid succession.
“Take my gun while I do. I won’t be any good to you until my leg is back on. I’ll be fast. You remember how to shoot, right?” He’d taken her to the range a few times right after she’d been released from the dungeon, empowering her and teaching her to fend for herself.
“I practice once a week.” She nodded, though she was sure he knew that from their mutual friends. Unless he forbade them to talk about her too.
The thought tweaked something inside her. Could he hate her that much? It didn’t seem like it when he took such good care of her. Then again, he was a noble bastard. Maybe he’d do the same for any damsel in distress.
“I wasn’t sure since you had a Taser and pepper spray on you, but not your Glock.” He double-checked the safety then carefully handed her his weapon.
“Foolish me.” She rolled her eyes at herself then watched intently as he began to doff his prosthesis. Every few seconds her gaze swung out to their surroundings, making sure it was still clear. “I guess I just thought the worst had already happened. Besides, the idea of taking someone’s life—”
“It’s a serious choice. Never easy.” He paused as he rummaged through his backpack. The bob of his Adam’s apple was clear, even in the dim light.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Lucas.”
She stared into his eyes, which seemed a little glazed. Over what he’d done tonight? Or countless times before? She couldn’t quite tell. But neither must be pleasant for him to think about.
“If I’d grabbed my gun instead of my wimpier survival kit, maybe you wouldn’t have had to…”
“My hands are already plenty dirty. Stained with blood.” This time he didn’t shy away from her inquisitive glance. “I’d rather you stay innocent.”
A laugh bubbled from her chest. It frightened her that it sounded kind of hysterical. “We both know I’m anything but pure.”
Lucas’s stare morphed into a glare. “Don’t you dare do that to yourself.”
“What? Tell the fucking truth?” She flung her hair over her shoulder with the hand not holding his gun.
For a while, he was silent. He withdrew his fist from his backpack, clutching a ball of cotton.
Without a moment’s pause, he unsnapped his jeans, yanked the zipper down, hooked his thumbs in the waistband then stripped them down to his ankles.
Ellie nearly drooled at the sight of his thick thighs and the bold swirls of his tattoos that ran down each leg. That was even before she dared to glance at the bulge in his boxer briefs.
She wished it weren’t so damn dark.
Unselfconscious about his nudity, he sat there for a moment as if gathering courage to unveil his leg to her. As if that could make him any less incredible.
Ellie refused to look away for even a moment. She quit trying to hide how attractive she found him. If that’s what he needed to feel more secure, she could easily give it to him.
As she watched, he pressed a button on the side of his prosthesis. Holding it steady, he pulled his thigh back while keeping the socket in place. A strap slipped through the lock, allowing his residual limb to slide free.
Clever.
She’d never seen the inner workings of his leg since he hadn’t willingly let her within a mile of him after the surgery.
Still enveloped in his jeans, his foot made a dull thud as it landed on the leaf-covered ground.
Ellie would have been lying if she didn’t admit that seeing his leg end short didn’t take her by surprise. Maybe because he still seemed so extremely normal that with his clothes and shoes it was easy to imagine he hadn’t changed. Now the difference was evident.
He flexed his knee a few times, rubbing the front of it while the few inches of his shin remaining below that swung up and back. It must be sore as hell if that was where all his weight was resting as he tromped through the forest.
Beneath the fiberglass he had several layers of fabric on. A few that looked like socks. Then something gray that seemed thicker, almost like neoprene or some kind of fabric-backed gel. He unfurled the ball of white cotton in his hand and selected one from the middle, a medium weight compared to thinner and thicker versions in his stash.
Curious, she watched as he rolled it over his residual limb, lining up a slit in the side so that the strap—which looked sort of like a giant zip tie—could poke through.
“This is kind of genius.” She reached out, her fingers
skimming the device.
“It’s called a proximal lock. The strap is glued to my liner and then slides into the prosthesis, keeping my foot attached to my leg,” he said, though he jerked away from her touch.
So she let her hand drop.
For the span of several irregular heartbeats, they simply stared at each other. Each of their insecurities laid bare. Raw and not entirely healed.
“Neither one of us is the way we were made anymore,” he finally murmured, as if it’d taken him that long to rein in his temper after her earlier revelations about herself. “I’m working on being okay with that for myself. But I want you to know that I never thought, for one instant, that what was done to you made you any less of a woman. In fact, I admire you more for having persevered. Triumphed.”
“Then I suppose we understand each other perfectly.” Ellie smiled tightly up at Lucas, though his short-cropped hair, chocolate eyes and lightly stubbled jaw wavered in her liquidy gaze.
She wished they were safely inside his cabin. If they had been, she might have chanced leaning forward and lifting her lips to his. Just one taste. That was all she hoped for.
Okay, that was a big, fat lie.
But she’d settle for it if she had to.
Lucas broke their eye contact, going back to the task at hand.
“Can I ask what you’re doing?”
Genuine curiosity about this man and the new aspects of his life flooded her. She wanted to know everything about him and how she could help. If she could. Damn it, she’d been trying to do exactly that for months. Except he hadn’t wanted her assistance.
Or maybe he’d been worried about her pity. Though he shouldn’t have.
She’d never treat him like a victim. She knew enough about whispers and sidelong glances to want to deck anyone who treated her like that. If that was what he expected from her, he’d be waiting a long damn time.
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, as if making sure he wasn’t freaking her out or something.
“Come on, Lucas. Give me some credit here. I’d rather be educated than ignorant. I’m not going to be grossed out or something.” She flailed her arm before remembering that she held his gun.
He ducked and held his hands up. “Whoa. No need for violence.”
She snapped to attention, keeping the weapon safely pointed away from them. Horrified, she looked back in time to find the crazy bastard grinning. The full wattage of his smile was enough to light up the entire state preserve, all seventy-five square miles of it. It nearly knocked her off the log they shared and onto her ass.
In her skimpy dress, that would have given him quite a view, and probably resulted in her shooting something at the same damn time.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Sorry.” This time she really did mean it.
As if her gaff had loosened his inhibitions, he gave her what she’d asked for. Information.
“My stump. Er, my leg, or whatever you want to call this here”—he waved to his residual limb—“is still changing. Less now than right at first. Hell, it shrunk so much in the beginning I could probably fit two of these stumps in the first test socket they made for me.”
“Is that normal?” she wondered.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I had to wear a shrinker to keep the swelling down and stuff. Anyway, now it’s more stable. Even still, the volume of my stump changes throughout the day. Always will. Probably four or five times, when I’m just doing normal crap, I’ve got to take this outside shell off and add or subtract stump socks to adjust the fit on my prosthesis. Otherwise it’s really uncomfortable and it can start to impact my skin integrity and make sores. Nothing’s worse than that for an amputee because it means I might not be able to wear my leg until it heals or risk infection. Then I’m stuck.”
Ellie hadn’t realized how complicated being an amputee was. There were probably a million other things she hadn’t thought of either. Yet, here Lucas was, just seven months postsurgery, back on his feet and looking stronger than ever. Determined. Capable. And sexy as sin.
Seriously, she didn’t remember him having such defined arms before and his chest filled out his shirt to absolute perfection. Ogling him as he concentrated on refitting his leg—threading the strap into the lock and stomping until it clicked and ratcheted into place—she felt like a perv.
So she distracted herself with a lame attempt at humor. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not an amputee then, because I’m pretty sure I have blisters the size of Lily’s whip collection going on after taking a stroll in these puppies. They’re really more for looking good than for walking.”
Her nervous laughter cut short when his gaze snapped to hers. “Fuck, Ellie. Why didn’t you mention it? Are you okay?”
“Considering everything else that’s happened tonight, it doesn’t rate.” She shook her head at his concern, though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate knowing he cared.
“Let me see,” he ordered.
“It’s nothing, Lucas.” She shook her head. “We should get going again if you’re good.”
“I’m not moving until I take a look.” Stubborn was this man’s middle name. It might be his first and last name too.
When she would have kept arguing, he cut her off. “I’m sorry, E. But we’ve still got a long way to go. Another two hours at our pace, probably. If we don’t take care of this now, it’s only going to get worse. Like I am now…I don’t know if I could carry you. Let’s fix the problem before it turns into something we can’t handle.”
Well, when he made it sound logical, how could she resist? Damn him.
Lucas felt tension melt from him as Ellie toed off her shoes then tucked her feet up beside her, into his lap. Impressive how she did that while still holding his gun, balancing on the log and managing not to flash him in the process, despite the ruined-though-still-phenomenal dress hugging her curves exactly right.
Fuck, he was never going to get the picture of her wearing it out of his mind.
Plenty to jerk off to later, he supposed.
He figured he was going to have to make the rest of this hike with a boner…until he glanced down and saw the mangled skin of her feet. A bloody mess, they looked nearly black in the darkness.
“Son of a bitch! Ellie!” He let his voice rise to a whisper-shout.
The instant she attempted to withdraw, he shackled her ankles with his fingers. Unthinking, he gripped her tight and refused to let her draw away now that he realized she needed medical attention.
The soft smile that had curled her lips despite their situation vanished. She froze, every muscle locked down tight. Her eyes went blank and her pupils dilated. The rise and fall of her perfect breasts sped up as she fought to draw in a breath.
Lucas had triggered her.
Immediately, he let go.
“E,” he crooned, trying to bring her back from a land of nightmares. “It’s me, Lucas. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You’re safe, I promise.”
So, that part might be a lie. But at least she was free of the demons he knew she was seeing around her. If his simple hold had terrified her, what would happen if he did what his libido had been urging since he’d gotten to know her? If he unleashed the full blast of his attraction for her, he’d probably terrify her so bad she might never recover.
Afraid to touch her, he let his hand hover a hairsbreadth from her arm while his other reclaimed his weapon and put it safely aside. Despite the need inside him to destroy the people who’d done this to her, he kept his voice calm and reassuring as he rambled soothing nonsense.
It worked.
Ellie blinked up at him a few times and then flushed.
Far more embarrassed than she’d been earlier, with her entire chest displayed to the world, she pressed her palms over her face and peeked at him from between splayed fingers. “Shit.”
“It’s okay.”
“That happens sometimes. It’s getting better. I just, I can’t help it when something reminds me. I know you would never—”
“Don’t worry, E.” He rummaged in his amputee survival kit for the first aid supplies he needed, while giving her time to recover. When she sniffled, he couldn’t keep his gaze averted any longer.
What he really wanted was to hug her tight.
Maybe a hell of a lot more than that.
And that was exactly why he should stay far away. No way was she ready for that.
Not with him or anyone else.
“Is it okay if I touch your feet?” he asked quietly. “I have some 2nd Skin in here. It’s pretty awesome stuff. It’ll give you instant relief. It’s an occlusive bandage. Keeps out water and air too. It’ll stop your shoes from rubbing on these spots for the rest of our trek.”
Ellie cleared her throat then said, “I’m good now. Please. Do it. That sounds awesome.”
Lucas started carefully, brushing his thumb across her ankle. Even swollen from the abuse they’d put it through, it was delicate. Fine-boned.
When she seemed to relax further, tolerating his caress, he stroked the top of her foot.
A sigh rushed from her before she surrendered a soft laugh that had his heart flip-flopping in his chest. “Keep that up and I’m going to beg you for a massage when we get to your house.”
That only brought to mind images of her naked, lying on his bed as he smeared warm, scented oils over her shapely back. Candlelight would glisten off her lubricated skin.
He cleared his throat.
Focusing on fixing her up, he opened a bottle of water then apologized in advance, “This is probably going to sting.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Go.”
He splashed the damaged skin of her feet until the blood and other fluids were washed away. Then he uncapped a tube of antibiotic ointment and smeared some on the patch of bandage. Who knew what kind of germs had embedded themselves in her open wounds?
