Page 29

Tory

At a section where the road widened enough for two cars to pass side by side, Jaxson slowed down and pulled onto the dirt shoulder.

I frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing you up,” he said, killing the engine.

“I told you I’m fine.” I scowled.

“I heard you.” He opened the door, and Onyx barked as Jaxson strode to the trunk.

Onyx leapt into the driver’s seat, her tail wagging furiously, and before I could stop her, she bounded out after him.

“Onyx!” I called after her.

She ignored me completely, sniffing the air before squatting to pee—something I needed to do very soon.

Jaxson appeared at my side of the car and opened the door, holding up a battered first-aid kit like it was a trophy. “It’s your lucky day.” He offered a lopsided grin.

I groaned. “If it were my lucky day, I’d be at home with my cats, eating ice cream straight out of the tub, and wearing my comfy slippers.”

He chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that surprised me. It was warm, unguarded, and so different from the intense, scowling man I’d been saddled with for hours. That laugh softened him. Underneath the rough edges and perpetual scowl, Jaxson was handsome. Ruggedly so.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “Out you get.”

Sighing, I reached with my uninjured hand, and Jaxson gently gripped his fingers around mine, helping me out of the cruiser. As I slid from the seat, tiny shards of glass slipped from my clothes and scattered across the ground, catching the moonlight like glitter.

The moment I stood, the adrenaline that had been holding me together drained from my body, and my legs wobbled beneath me.

“Alrighty, I got you.” He caught me with a steady hand under my elbow, his touch careful and soft, nothing like the man who’d fought Eddie with his bare fists.

He guided me to the back of the car and settled me at the edge of the trunk. “Can you roll up your sleeve?”

The wound was high on my arm, just below my shoulder; too high for the sleeve to roll. “No. I’ll have to take my shirt off.” I nodded toward the buttons.

His jaw tensed, but he gave a small nod. “Okay. Do what you need to.”

I reached for the top button, but my dislocated finger flared with sharp pain each time I tried to grip the fabric. Hissing through my teeth, I paused, frustration prickling at the corners of my eyes.

“Let me,” he said softly.

Before I could protest, Jaxson stepped in and gently nudged my hands away. I froze as he undid the buttons. And my god, my stupid brain had to remind itself he wasn’t undressing me, though technically, he absolutely was.

As each button slipped free, I watched his hands, stunned by how careful he was.

How patient.

And my foolish heart gave a traitorous flutter.

I swallowed hard. “Thanks,” I whispered, barely trusting my voice.

He offered a quiet nod, meeting my gaze long enough to make my breath catch before he looked away.

I eased the shirt aside, but as I tried to slip my wounded arm free, pain pierced through the grazed skin. “Shit!” I yelped.

“Here, let me.” Immediately, his hand was there again, steadying me .

After everything I’d been through, his tenderness felt like the only thing keeping me together right now.

Jaxson cupped my wrist lightly as if he was afraid of hurting me, and gently guided my arm free of the sleeve. When the fabric slipped from my skin, he turned my elbow to get a better look at the wound.

“Jesus, Tory,” he breathed, eyes fixed on the angry, bloodied graze. “You were shot.”

I nodded. “Eddie got me.”

“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Why didn’t you say something?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, even though I was anything but. “We were a little busy trying not to get killed.”

Jaxson’s eyes locked on mine, and the usual hardness in his expression was gone. In its place was something raw. Something I wouldn’t have expected from a man like him, a kind of tenderness that nearly undid me.

“You should’ve said something.” He shook his head, but I had the impression he was scolding himself more than me.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, though the words felt hollow.

I could hardly believe I had a bullet wound.

Even now, it didn’t feel real. I’d spent the last twenty minutes convincing myself it wasn’t bad.

If it were serious, surely I would be sobbing in agony or completely incapacitated.

Yet the blood soaking my shirt and streaking down my arm confirmed it was bad enough.

“Fine, my ass.” Jaxson shook his head as he opened the first-aid kit on the trunk. He unscrewed the lid of a bottle of antiseptic and poured some onto a piece of gauze. “This is going to sting.”

“I can handle it,” I said, bracing myself.

“Yeah, I know you can.” Clenching his jaw tight, he gently dabbed at the edge of the wound.

The antiseptic burned like hell, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

He paused, rubbing his hand over my other arm. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “Get it over with.”

He nodded, and with his focus intense, he cleaned away the blood still oozing from the wound and dribbling down my arm. The bullet had just grazed my skin, taking a small chunk of flesh with it. I’d rescued plenty of people with far worse injuries. This was nothing .

I couldn’t help but watch him, rather than what he was doing. This tough, brave man, who’d just driven like a maniac, was treating my wound with a tenderness that felt completely at odds with everything I thought I knew about him.

He kept trying to hide behind his grit and bravado, but his facade was slipping, and when it did, the real Jaxson was there. But he seemed afraid to show his kindness, and I had a feeling something truly rotten had happened to him. The thought cracked something open in me.

“You got lucky,” he said, gently squeezing my good arm. “Another inch, and that bullet would have done some real damage.”

“Yeah. Can’t wait to show my friends that I got shot,” I said dryly.

“You’re tough.” He offered a faint smile. “I’ll give you that.”

I snorted. “This is nothing compared to crashing a plane and being chased by armed drug smugglers through a croc-infested swamp.”

His smile widened, revealing a tiny dimple in his left cheek. “Exactly. Very tough. And brave.”

As he skillfully wrapped the bandage around my arm, I couldn’t ignore the flutter in my stomach.

When was the last time a man had touched me so tenderly?

I couldn’t even remember. And I don’t think I have ever been this close to someone as ruggedly handsome as Jaxson.

My love life was pathetic. Maybe getting shot down wasn’t so bad after all .

. . not when I got rescued by a smoldering hero.

Jesus, what is wrong with me.

His eyes lingered on mine for a moment longer than necessary. I was filthy, covered in mud and sweat, and my hair was a tangled mess, but the way he looked at me wasn’t with disgust or pity. It was something else. Something that made my insides tingle and my nipples harden.

“What?” I asked, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in my stomach.

His eyes searched mine with such intensity, it was like he could see right into my soul. “Nothing,” he said, and as he gently wrapped tape around my arm to secure the bandage, I forgot how to breathe.

Onyx barked, breaking the moment.

Jaxson glanced toward the tree line, his expression hardening again. “We have to go.” He rested a hand on my good shoulder. “You good?”

“Yep. Ready to rock and roll. ”

He helped me pull my shirt back on, and as he did up the buttons, the brush of his fingers sent a rush of heat through me, waking parts of my body that had forgotten how to feel a long time ago.

The moment passed in a flash, but as he stepped back, he reached for my wounded hand. “We better sort this out now.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean, sort this out ?”

“Your finger’s dislocated. You can’t leave it like this.”

“Yeah, but . . . ” I scrunched my nose. “How?”

He gently turned my hand over, studying the underside. “I can fix it. My brother Whitney patched up Parker and me all the time after footy games . . . dislocated fingers, gashes, busted noses.”

My stomach turned. “Yeah, Whitney has medical training.”

“I’ve done this a few times too. Trust me, the swelling’s only going to get worse.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh my god. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Tory, it’s best to do it now before it locks up.” He cupped my cheek.

I dropped my hand, opening my eyes. “Oh, man. It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”

He offered a small, apologetic smile. “Yeah. But only for a second.”

Before I could lose my nerve, I nodded.

He gently gripped my hand, bracing the joint. “Okay. On three. One?—.”

He didn’t wait for two.

There was a sharp jerk and a sickening snap. Pain ripped through my finger, and I howled, and as my body shuddered a low sob burst from my throat.

“Sorry,” he murmured, turning my hand to check the alignment. “That was the best way. I promise.”

“That was fucked!” I blurted, wiping away my stupid tears.

“Sorry,” he repeated, and as our eyes met, something in his softened. A warmth fluttered through me, catching me off-guard.

All too soon, he looked away and reached for the bandages. He strapped up my hand, tying it off with a strip of tape .

“I’ve never had a serious injury before, and now I’ve had two in one day.”

“And you handle it like a pro,” he said with a smirk, resting my hand down.

I huffed. “Yeah, right. I’m a big wuss.”

He smiled. “You are far from that.”

My swollen finger still throbbed, but the sharp pain that had been spearing through the bone since it happened was already fading to a dull ache.

Jaxson shoved the tape into the first-aid kit and snapped the lid shut. “Okay. Let’s get moving.”

As I stepped away from the car, the burn in my bladder couldn’t be ignored anymore. “Uh . . . Jaxson, I need a moment in the bushes.”

“Sure. Need help?”

I giggled. “Hell no.”