Page 265 of Duty and Desire

CHAPTER 9

Abby tried to toss and turn, all snug in Noah’s bed, but the thing was too damn hard. It wouldn’t surprise her if the mattress was made of blocks of wood. What was wrong with him? She curled on her side again, her ribs aching now that she wasn’t aroused beyond belief. A pounding on the outside door drew her upright. Oh God. Had Monte found her?

She slid from the bed and padded into the spacious living room, tiptoeing toward the door. If he was on the other side, she’d need to get a knife from the kitchen. Her palms grew sweaty, and her knees started to wobble.

The pounding increased and jarred the entire wall. “Abs? Let us in. It’s Raine.”

Oh. Thank goodness. She rushed forward and unlocked the door, opening it wide. Then her heart stopped.

Noah leaned heavily on Raine, blood matted across his face, his clothes burned and still smoking. He smiled. “Got blown up.” The smell of bourbon came off him like he’d bathed in it.

Raine grimaced and hauled him inside, pushing him onto the sofa. “Had to give him a few drinks to help while he, ah, healed a little bit.” He leaned over to look at the deep purple bruisecovering Noah’s left temple. “Well, it was more like a few bottles, I guess.”

Abby’s breath heated as she forced down panic. “We have to get him to a hospital. Do you have a phone?”

“Don’t need a hospital,” Noah slurred, smiling through cracked lips. “I’ll be okay in a little while.” He frowned, making the bruises across his forehead jumble into one large ugly mass. “Hey. You’re only wearing a shirt. My shirt. Go away, Raine.”

This wasn’t good. Not at all. “He needs a doctor,” Abby said urgently. “Please let me use your phone.” Why the hell didn’t she have a phone? Oh yeah. No money.

“No.” Noah grasped her hand and drew her toward him. His knuckles were bruised and cut. “I just need a shower and some care.” He tilted his head to see Raine. “We walked into a trap, and that’s on you.” When Abby tried to pull away, he tugged her closer until she landed on his smoking lap. “Get it fixed.”

“I will.” Raine backed toward the door, taking out his phone and reading the face. “I’ll have a location to you by late tomorrow, no matter what. I owe you.” He disappeared quickly outside.

Abby’s stomach rolled over. “How were you blown up?” She wanted to help Noah, but she wasn’t a doctor. Not even close.

“A lot of grenades,” he mumbled, shoving to his feet and swaying.

She jumped up and settled her shoulder beneath his arm. “Please let me take you to the emergency room.”

“Nah. A shower will suffice,” he slurred, stumbling around the sofa toward the master bedroom and bath, pulling her along easily. He smelled like burned cotton and blood. “Wanna help?”

“Yes,” she muttered, trying to help him along. If she saw one open wound or broken bone, she was stealing his phone and calling an ambulance. Period. They reached the palatial bathroom, and he stood calmly while she removed hisclothing, wincing at each bruise and cut. After she’d gotten him undressed, she had to admit his injuries weren’t as bad as she’d expected from his clothing. She tried, she really did, not to look lower than his waist.

She failed.

Holy crap on a cracker, Wonder Woman. The guy was seriously endowed. Gifted. One of the chosen. Heat flushed into her face and she looked up to see a goofy smile on his. She frowned. “Are you concussed?”

“Yep. And seriously drunk.” He reached inside the glass-walled shower and started the water. “I’ll need help.” Without waiting for an answer, he dragged her under the already steamy spray.

She yelped and backed away, shoving wet hair out of her eyes. Seriously. He reached for her shirt and she slapped his hand, taking it off herself. “Would you please just stand there for a minute?” she snapped, looking at the raw bruises across his chest and over his shoulders. “How did you get blown up?” Just where the heck had he been?

“Weeeelll.” He ducked his head beneath the spray, and grime and blood flowed off his hard body to the drain. “I’m after this guy, and he set us up, and then he tried to blow us up. It’s pretty simple, really.”

Guy. “What guy?”

“Man. You’re nagging already,” he complained, soaping up his body and not seeming to mind the painful-looking bruises.

Nagging? “Whatever.” She started to back away.

“Oh, no.” He drew her near, now smelling of soap and male. His gaze was intense, although his smile was a little lopsided. “We never got to finish what we started.”

“You’re drunk,” she said, even as desire began to burn through her again. The play of muscle beneath his smooth skin—everywhere—was a temptation no sane girl could ignore. Even so, she didn’t want to take advantage of him. “And concussed.”

“You are a little blurry,” he admitted, pulling her square into his spectacular body. They both groaned at the contact. “That’s better. I can almost see you now.” He sobered. “Everything hurts, Abs. How about you make it all feel better?” Amusement curved his lips, and he tried to give her a puppy dog expression, but he looked more like a Doberman about to eat a steak. “Please?”

He was terrible. Sexy and smart and sweet...and how could she refuse?

He grinned. “You’re not scared. Here and naked with me—totally alone—and you’re not frightened. That has to tell you something.”