Page 37

37. Property of Mira Kuznetsova

Rome

I came awake slowly, feeling worse than I had before I’d fallen asleep. The way I’d been moving to compensate for my injuries must have aggravated the rest of my chest and back muscles, because now everything ached.

I looked around to see who was nearby before I got up. If it was John, I could ask for help. If it was Mira, I’d have to explain very thoroughly why I needed to visit the bathroom and hope she’d let me.

Is that sad or what?

As I scanned the room, I spotted a book on the coffee table. I read the title and realized it was a new release on a ship called the Leviathan .

“Well, hello, sweetheart.” I reached for it with my good arm. “Where did you come from? And which war are you about?”

“World War One,” I heard Mira say.

She took the book from me and held it high over my head.

“And it’s a bribe, so if you wanna know more about the,” she stopped and looked at the cover again, “ Leviathan , you’ll do what I ask you to.”

I grinned, more than willing to play this game.

“And what is it you want me to do?” I lifted an eyebrow. “Afraid I’m not good for much right now, unless you want to have a napping contest. Or one to see who can pee the longest because I really need to go.”

“You are getting in the bathtub and soaking with epsom salt.” She crossed her arms over that fine chest and glared at me.

“Okay.” I reached for the throw pillow I’d been using when I had to cough or sneeze - or breathe - and prepared for the agony known as sitting up.

“What?” Mira sounded shocked. “Just that easy? And stop that. Let me help you.”

I didn’t protest as she wrapped her arms around me and helped me sit, then pulled me to my feet. I groaned and plunked my head on her shoulder.

“Ope. I’m sorry,” I wheezed, eyes closed tightly. “I’ll fight with you later. I promise. And of course I’m going to go easy, if you’re dangling a new history book in front of me like a carrot. Now you know my Achilles heel.”

“ That’s your fatal weakness?”

“Hey, at least it’s not puppy dog eyes.”

“Puppy dog eyes? Whose Achilles heel is puppy dog eyes? Oh, no. Don’t tell me.” She grinned. “It can’t be Kerry.”

I laughed, but stopped because it hurt too much.

“Don’t make me laugh. And yes, Kerry. Try it sometime and see.”

“I have never made puppy dog eyes at anyone in my life, Rome Aalders.”

I had to force myself not to laugh again. The pain wasn’t worth it.

“I figured as much. You’re an oak. You’d crack before you’d bend.”

She didn’t respond and I lifted my head from her shoulder to look down at her. Her face was half-turned away, but I could see enough to know she was upset.

“Mira? I wasn’t being mean or trying to hurt you. I meant it as a compliment.”

She whipped around and searched my eyes, and I smiled. She didn’t say anything, only nodded.

“Well, let’s get you stripped down.”

“Please, Mira, don’t say things like that. You’ll start something I can’t finish right now.”

She laughed again and helped me shuffle to her bathroom.

“John’s sleeping in your room, and I’m afraid it might wake him up to use your tub.”

“Okay, but no frou-frou soap or bubble bath.”

She chuckled as I hobbled into her bathroom.

That’s it. Keep it light. Keep it amusing. She can’t take anything too emotional yet. Maybe soon, but not yet.

Bracing my arm against the wall, I watched her turn on the water in the bathtub and add a liberal amount of the salt. When she turned back, I made a shooing gesture at her.

“I really meant it about having to go pee, so vamoose.”

She snorted, but made tracks and I took care of business with a sigh of relief. I managed to kick off my jeans and shorts, then debated how necessary it would be to lose my shirt. What did it matter if it got wet? It was just plain white cotton.

“Can I come back in now?” she called through the door.

“What?” I frowned. “I thought you wanted me to get in the tub and soak.”

“I do,” she said. “But you can’t get in by yourself. I’ll help you, then I’ll read to you for a bit.”

“You stay out there!”

“Can you even take off your shirt?”

“I am sure I could.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sir Serious,” she sing-sang.

“I was thinking I really don’t need to,” I tried again.

“Coming in!”

“Mira, no, wait—”

The door began to open. Whipping a towel from the rack and wrestling it around my waist was the most painful thing I’d ever endured in my life. I groaned and bent over the sink, gripping the countertop to keep from falling over as light burst behind my eyes.

I’m dying. I’m dying!

“You could have left your tidy-whities on, ding-a-ling,” she said in a dry voice.

“Boxers.”

“Whatever. Stay still.”

“Not … going … any … where.”

Something hard and cold dipped inside my shirt at my neck and ran down my spine, but I let her do what she wanted. After all, I couldn’t do anything to stop her right now. Unless vomiting counted as a defensive action.

The cold thing suddenly pressed against my neck, jolting me, and I looked in the mirror to see a pair of silver scissors cutting through my shirt. They slid down my chest to my lower abdomen, shearing through my shirt so it fell down my arms.

“Holy cats.” She caught the scissors when they flew to her hand. “John wasn’t joking about the duct tape, was he?”

I looked in the mirror with a grimace. The silver stuff was wrapped around my upper chest and one arm, and the skin around it was red and raw.

That’s going to hurt like a mother coming off. Oh, joy.

“I’ll take it off after your bath,” she said. “The water should help loosen it, right?”

“I surely hope so.”

I managed to step into the bathtub, then stood there and contemplated the least painful way to lie down from there.

“Just leave the towel on,” she said.

“I planned to.” Heat fired along my cheekbones. “I’m trying to figure out how to do this without passing out.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I let you wield scissors against my skin.”

She laughed and, next thing I knew, she was pressed against my back and her arms were under mine. Her hands locked in a knot in the center of my chest.

“Lean back against me and bend your knees,” she ordered. “Don’t be afraid to put your weight on me. I’m stronger than you’d think.”

“A controlled descent, huh? Well, we can but try.”

“Butt is right,” she snickered, “if that towel slips any lower.”

“Mira!”

“Sorry. I won’t look if it does. I promise.”

“Thank you for that, at least.” I puffed out an irritated breath. “This is ridiculous!”

“It’ll be worth it!”

With her careful assistance, I sank down until said butt touched the bottom of the tub.

“Whew!” She pretended to wipe sweat from her forehead. “Scoot down some more so the tape gets wet.”

When I was finally lying down, she slid a folded towel behind my head, then sat on the toilet lid and started to read my book aloud. I shut my eyes and listened to her honey voice as my muscles started to unbunch, the hot water and salt doing wonders for my aching body. After about thirty minutes, though, I’d had enough and wanted out.

“I’m going to help you sit up first, okay?” Mira, the heathen, folded the edge of the page over and laid the book on the sink counter. “I want to get rid of the tape and look at your wounds to see if they’re closing. If they’re not, you may need stitches.”

“Are you going to sew me up?”

“If I need to.” She knelt next to the tub. “I can do anything that needs to be done.”

“I know that.” I met her eyes. “I know you can, Mira.”

We stared at each other for a few moments until she blinked and looked away, her cheeks a pretty pink. Then she helped me sit up and checked to see if the duct tape had loosened. Her fingers seemed to be everywhere and I was suddenly thankful the bath water had begun to cool.

“Mira?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we please not tell this story to anyone?”

She grinned, reached behind her, and summoned a familiar blue and yellow can of penetrating oil found in every garage and workshop across the country. Starting with a section of tape that had been softened in the bath, she sprayed a little of the oil on her index finger, rubbed it where my skin and the adhesive met, and gently worked the threads loose.

“Wow.” I was impressed. “You’re much better at this than the others.”

“They don’t understand pain like we do. Well, except for Kerry, and I don’t suppose he was any help at all. He woulda had to touch you.”

“He did pretty good the one time I needed him,” I admitted.

She froze, and I wondered what I’d said.

“That’s why you never got up off the floor.” Her golden eyes blazed. “When I … had that moment back at the motel. You couldn’t do it, could you? I thought you were making sure I didn’t feel threatened.”

“I was. I didn’t know how else to help you.” I summoned up a wry smile. “ And I couldn’t get up. I’d used too much power to stave off the pain and was seized up.”

She glared at me for a moment, then dropped her eyes and went back to work.

“Tell me more about Chance and Spin,” she demanded. “It’ll take your mind off of this.”

More worried about her than the tape coming off, I spent another thirty minutes telling her stories from my adventures with the two guys I’d been friends with since ninth grade.

“You’re doing great.” She worked the last piece free. “I’ll add five points to your impress-me score.”

“Impress-me score?” I scrunched up my eyebrows. “You made that up.”

“Of course I did. So far, you’re up to twenty-five points for impressing me. Good job!”

“Do I get a reward for a certain amount?”

“Hmm, let me think. If you can make it to fifty points by tomorrow, I’ll bring you a special treat.”

“I’m leery anytime you use the word special . I’m still waiting to see what special thing you’re incorporating into my armor.”

She threw back her head and laughed, and all I could do was stare in admiration.

She really is beautiful.

“How about a treat you choose? An ice cream cone? A cheeseburger? Cupcakes? What does the meathead warrior want for his special tweat?” She finished in a baby-talk voice.

I glared at her.

“I’m neither three nor a puppy.”

Her huge grin was everything. My lungs froze up, and it had nothing to do with my ribs.

She soaped up a washcloth, wiped away the oil, and rinsed me off with the shower hose. I would have preferred to do that myself, as her help - especially with the hose - was dubious, but I decided her enthusiasm and enjoyment made the dent to my dignity well worth it.

“All finished,” she said at last. “Let’s get you dry, then I’ll rebandage you. And we might as well finish your armor while you’re undressed, too.”

“Thanks, Mira. You were right. The bath did help. And thanks for not being, you know, weird about this.”

Her eyes roved every where.

“Oh, trust me, it was my pleasure. Such a high quality of temptation rarely comes along in my size. But now it’s time to get out.”

She moved into a squat position, slid her arms around my waist, and pressed her chest against mine - and I realized I was in all kinds of trouble.

“This may hurt,” she warned me. “If you pass out, I won’t deduct any points from your impress-me score.”

Then she locked her hands together and lifted. I felt a rib shift and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Sorry.”

“Kerry picked me up from the back.” I opened my eyes to find her face an inch from mine. “But I like your way better.”

Before I thought about it too much, I laid my cheek on her shoulder and closed my eyes. I made sure to keep my hands to myself, though. If I triggered a flashback again, I’d never forgive myself.

Something touched my hair, soft as a snowflake landing, then she drew my arm around her neck and started to half-lift me out of the tub.

“Hey!” I growled. “Stop that! I weigh a ton. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I can do it.”

“In case it’s escaped your notice, there is nothing dainty or elegant about me.” She got my feet on the bathmat and looked me in the eye.

“Mira,” I tried to interrupt her, but she steamed right over me.

“I know this means I am physically unappealing to guys, but it also means I am strong enough to help you.”

She grabbed a dry towel with her free hand, wrapped it around my waist, and untied the sopping wet one under it, letting it plop on the floor.

“Mira.”

“I may wish otherwise, but there is no escaping the fact that I’m built more like a football player than a cheerleader.”

She angled us out of the bathroom, her arm across my lower back, and I let her tow me along for two reasons: If I struggled against her hold, I could hurt her by accident, and I really was dizzy enough to need the help.

“Mira.”

“ What ?” She stopped in the living room near the couch.

“You are fierce and brave and strong,” I said with as much dignity as I could while wearing a towel and leaning on her. “But that’s not all you are. You’re also kind, smart and beautiful. Utterly beautiful, Mira.”

She made a gurgling noise, but I couldn’t tell if it was laughter, embarrassment, or anger.

“Why did you have to go and say something like that?” she demanded.

Did I embarrass her? She needs embarrassing, then.

“Wait here,” she demanded. “I’ll be right back.”

“Haven’t you had enough of me yet?”

“No. Since you’re still mostly naked, we might as well finish what we started.”

And John chose that moment to stroll out of the bedroom.

He was one of the quietest, most reserved people I’d ever met. Taller than most and broad with muscle, John could be very intimidating with his black eyes that silently watched everything and his uninflected voice that left you wondering what he really thought. I’d never heard the kid so much as raise his voice.

Which made it all the more startling when he looked from Mira’s departing back to my wet self and began to laugh. I knew how the conversation could have been construed and, while it was funny, I didn’t want John to get the wrong idea about Mira.

“Listen, John, nothing happened.” I made sure the knot in the towel was solid.

“You’re both adults,” John said between deep chuckles. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

Huh. I suddenly understand Kerry’s temper in the bra aisle.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“What it looks like is,” he sobered up and resumed his usual stoic mask, “you took a bath and Mira freed you from the duct tape.”

He peered at the gouges taken out of my arm and chest.

“I don’t think you’re going to need stitches,” he said.

“Me, either.” Mira breezed back into the living room. She had a shopping bag in one hand and a metal cuirass followed her. “But I want to keep them covered for a few more days. John, could you fetch him a pair of boxers and pajama pants? When I’m finished, maybe you could help him get dressed.”

“Sure thing, Mira.” He glanced up at me, smirked the tiniest bit, and went back toward the bedroom.

She stuffed me in the armor, suctioned it in place, and asked how it felt.

“Mira, your hands are magic.”

And there was John again, a wad of clothing in hand. His timing was impeccable. She looked puzzled when he snorted.

“Ignore him.” I shot him a glare. “It’s nothing.”

In a whirlwind of motion, she helped me peel off the cuirass, swabbed me down with something that burned, and wrapped gauze strips loosely around my chest and upper arm.

“That should do it.” She gathered up her supplies. “I’ll disappear so John can help you dress.”

As she took off, John helped me into my boxers and pajama pants with a soft chuckle.

“April Fools.”

“What?” I growled.

“It’s April first. Look at your chest.”

I glanced down and saw the “special surprise” Mira had worked into my armor. Slightly impressed on my left pectoral was a quarter-sized heart made of words. Even though I was looking at it upside down, I could clearly read, ‘Property of Mira Kuznetsova.’

Nonplussed, I didn’t know whether to laugh or curse.

“I like your lady,” he said. “She has a wicked sense of humor.”

“She’s not my lady.”

“Your heart says otherwise, but whatever. Unless you’re the uninterested party?”

I bared my teeth at him, but he only smiled.

“I’m going to bed,” I mumbled. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime.”