Page 77 of Calculated in Death

“I like sexy undressing better than you thinking about tranq’ing me unconscious and hauling me to the health center undressing.”

“I considered just that.”

“Come on. What kind of reward is that for making a really excellent catch?”

He met her eyes, and she saw him relax, just a little. “You’ve been hurt worse.”

“That’s what I said—thought.”

“Pants next.”

She smiled again. She still hurt, but some of the aches and twinges were buried under a layer of cotton from the blocker. “I will if you will.”

“It pains me to refuse such a generous offer.” He just unhooked her trousers, drew them off. “You’ve more bruises here and there.” He stroked his hands over the back of her head, carefully. Then relaxed a bit more when he found no knots or lumps. “But from watching the mini-vid all over the media, I’d say you’ve worse on your ass.”

“It’s kind of numb right now, but yeah. Tits and ass took the brunt.”

“Two of my favorite parts. Up you come.” He held her upright, and gently for a moment, brushing his lips over her temple.

Just banged up, he told himself. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last.

“Have you seen the vid?”

“No. Kind of unnecessary as I was there.”

“I think you need to see it.” Gently, he drew her support tank up, bit back a curse at the trail of bruises over her ribs. “Two seconds later, or if you’d misjudged the—I suppose I’ll say arc and velocity—that little boy would have more than some bruises.”

“It was so damn fast. That fucker? The way he moved—speed, agility. He scooped the kid up with one hand, elbow-jabbed the father with the other arm, did a smooth half pivot, hurled. He’s played ball, Roarke. Serious ball at some point. And he’s strong. I figure the kid for a solid twenty-five pounds.”

“Twenty-seven, according to the parents in an interview.”

“Twenty-seven, and he hurled it like the kid weighed two. Some of that’s adrenaline, but it’s serious, solidly strong.”

He’d slipped off her underwear and stood studying her ass.

“What? How bad?” She craned her neck, tried to see for herself.

“There’s one here that looks a bit like Africa, another that resembles Australia. Then there’s a small chain of islands.”

“Great, I’ve got a world map on my ass.” She managed to turn, get a reasonable look in the mirror. “Jesus. It is a world map.”

“You’ve not much meat back there.”

“Are you complaining?”

He traced his fingers over her, featherlight. “Only about its current state.”

“It’ll be better when I soak it, and the rest of me in a hot jet tub.”

“It’s ice you need.”

“I don’t want ice. Ice is cold.”

“Is it? I need to write that down. On the bed with you.”

“The tub’ll be soothing.”

“So will this. Ass up to start,” he ordered as he moved into the next room.