Page 21 of Burn Bag (Owens Protective Services #31)

DAPHNE

I felt absolutely horrible about what happened yesterday. It took forever for Bradley to fall asleep after we got home, and I was pretty sure I heard him calling out in the night about his poor cock being attacked.

Honestly, it was a little funny, but I would never tell him that.

After feeding the cats, I set to work making breakfast. If I was going to be his wife, I was gonna rock at this whole homemaker thing. Not that I was going to sit at home and be the perfect wife for him. But at least today, I could pretend that I was what he needed.

I was shocked to find a KitchenAid mixer in his cabinets, though it looked like it had never been used.

In fact, it was still in the box with the tape on and a thick layer of dust coated it.

After wiping it down, I pulled out the mixer and read the instructions, having never used anything so complicated before.

I decided on bacon and pancakes for breakfast. It seemed simple enough, and though I wasn’t an expert at making any food, how hard could it be? I figured the bacon would take longer to cook, so I got that set up first, grinning as I listened to it sizzling on the stove.

This was easy. In no time, I would be a pro at this, cooking him breakfast and getting a morning kiss as he walked over to sit down. He’d compliment me on a job well done, and then we’d have sex on the counter.

Well, after his cock healed.

“Serves four,” I read on the box. “Four regular people or one grown man?” I snorted. I could eat a good heap of pancakes all on my own. One batch was probably enough for me, but for a man like Kavanaugh? He probably needed twice or three times as many.

I poured out the ingredients into the bowl that sat on the mixer stand. This really was so much easier than doing it by hand. At least, I assumed so, having never made pancakes before.

My phone rattled on the counter, and I winced when I read the name flashing on the screen. Mom. Yeah, I wasn’t any more ready to talk about my life choices with her at this moment than I had been while Bradley was in the hospital.

God, her independent daughter who had gone on digs with them, searched for the lost tomb of Queen Nefertiti, and listened to Egyptian history around a campfire, was now suddenly hitched to a man she’d never met, living with seven cats. My mother would never understand, but my father…

Well, he would probably grin and pull me in for a hug, saying he wasn’t surprised at all. My father was always on my side, always going with the flow when it came to his baby girl.

Still, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell either of them, yet.

I wasn’t ready for a conversation that long or for them to fly out here and meet my new, nearly castrated husband.

I waited for the call to go to voicemail, breathing a sigh of relief that I no longer had to see the flashing name taunting me.

No, now I just had to listen to the voicemails and wait for panic to ensue.

I glanced over my shoulder at the bacon just before flipping the switch on the mixer.

Just as I turned, powder flew everywhere, sending a thick coat of white into the air.

Screeching, I tried to rush forward to turn it off, but flour got in my eyes and throat.

I started choking, waving the white stuff away from my face.

I jolted as the fire alarm sounded, scaring the shit out of me.

Turning to the stove and still choking, I gasped when I saw the bacon burning to a crisp.

I rushed over and flipped off the burner, grabbing the handle of the pan and rushing over to the sink.

Oil popped at me, splashing me in the face and all over my hands.

Screaming, I turned on the water, trying to diffuse the situation, but all that happened was the oil crackled and popped, splashing all over me.

“Holy mother of God!” I cried out, tossing the pan away from me and into the sink.

The fire alarm kept blaring and white powder spun around the room. Tears stung my eyes as I sank to the floor against the cabinet and covered my ears.

“What the fuck is going on?” Bradley shouted over the alarm.

I peeled my eyes open and watched as he hopped in front of the smoke alarm, waving a towel in front of it. Then he rushed over to the mixer, choking on the white powder as he searched for the switch. When it finally shut off, he stood above me, cursing as he stared down at me in disbelief.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” I cried, still holding my arm.

Sighing, he bent down and gently pried my arm from where it was cradled against my chest. “Do you actually know how to cook?”

I bit my lip, shaking my head slightly. “I always used the oven to store extra dishes.”

Quirking an eyebrow at me, he grinned. “Extra dishes for the food you don’t know how to cook?”

I shrugged slightly. It didn’t make sense, but that was that.

“Come on. Let’s get this checked out.”

He hauled me to my feet and grabbed a rag, running it under the water. I hissed as he pressed it to my arm, but he just shook his head at me.

“How the hell did you get these burns?”

“I was trying to move the pan to the sink. It was…smoking.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “And you decided to stick your arm in the path of the grease? ”

I didn’t want to tell him what had happened. He was already laughing at me.

“Alright, let’s get to the clinic. They can clean this up and give us some good shit.”

But as he tugged on my hand, I found my feet sticking to the floor, refusing to move. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Daphne, you have burns all up your arms. Did you hold your hand above the oil just to see if you could stand it?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “And I’m sure I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

“You may not need to, but I’m taking you anyway.”

I grunted in protest as he started pulling me toward the front door. “Really, it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need to see the doctor!”

“Too fucking bad. You’re my wife, and I’m not letting you sit here with burns on your body when I can take care of you!”

I kept dragging my feet, refusing to go any further. “No, really! I insist!”

“And so do I,” he countered, tugging me to the door.

“No!” I shouted, fighting harder with him now that I was so close to the door. “You can’t make me! I’m not going anywhere!”

I lost it and swung hard at him, clipping the edge of his lip in my haste to get away from him. It wasn’t rational, but I couldn’t stop the panic growing inside me. I would not leave this house. I would not go out that door and get in his vehicle.

“Daphne!” he shouted. “What the fuck is the big deal? They’re going to check it out and wrap it or give you something for the pain.”

“No!” I continued to scream as he bent over and hauled me over his shoulder. Panic flared even harder as he stalked out the front door. I grabbed onto the doorframe and held on for dear life as he pulled me outside. “I won’t go! You can’t make me!”

I was flailing hard, kicking and punching, all while keeping a tenuous hold on the doorframe. I heard him grunt a few times and hoped that meant I was winning, but when my fingers slipped, I knew this was the end. He was going to put me in that truck and that would be the end of everything .

“Do I need to knock you out?” he shouted.

“You can’t make me go! You don’t own me!”

“You’re my fucking wife!”

“And that doesn’t mean you can order me around!” I shouted, beating my hands on his back. It stung like a bitch, but I didn’t relent. I couldn’t.

“Woman! Stop fucking hitting me!”

“Problems already?” one of the guys called out, laughing at the two of us.

“I’ve got things handled,” he called out.

That was all I needed, just the small distraction from his friend gave me the in to get in one good shot to his balls. His grip immediately loosened and we went tumbling to the ground in a heap. He rolled over, cupping his groin as I got up and sprinted away from him.

“Catch her!”

My eyes widened in horror as the hulking man in front of me grinned. The last thing I saw was his hands coming toward me. Then I felt a pressure around my neck and everything went black.

“I still don’t understand why you had me knock her out.”

“I didn’t fucking tell you to knock her out,” Bradley snapped. “I said to catch her.”

“That’s the same fucking thing!”

“No, it’s not. One involves stopping a person, and the other involves knocking that person out.”

“Again, that’s the same thing!”

I groaned as I rolled to my side, gasping when I saw I was on a gurney in a curtained-off room—just like Bradley had been in the day before. I jerked upright, biting back a scream as my husband stood in front of me with a smirk on his face.

“What did you do?” I said accusingly.

“I brought you into the hospital. ”

“For what? I’m fine!”

“You had some pretty bad burns,” he countered. “I wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“Of course I was fine!” I hissed, wincing when I saw my arm wrapped in gauze.

His friend snorted in amusement. “That’s what the doc said, too.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bradley snapped. “You had burns all up and down your arm. Who fucking taught you to cook?”

“Nobody,” I hissed, then snapped my mouth shut.

His friend chuckled, watching the two of us like we were an attraction at an amusement park. “Who knew a Monday morning could be so entertaining?”

“Red—”

“I’m just saying, I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since I met Zoe. It’s been a riot.”

The names brought back some very vague memories, but I couldn’t care right now. I was pissed and it was all because of my overbearing husband.

“You know, when I signed on to get married, it did not include you dragging me out of the house kicking and screaming.”

“It did include for better or worse.”

“Worse is right,” Red snorted.

“I just wanted to have your arm looked at. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that I said I was fine,” I argued.