Lie to Me

by Verdenius, Angela

  Driving back, she detoured on a little-used road to miss the main drag in case Ryder had gotten it into his handsome head to look for her. By now it was dark and she pulled into the garage, the roller door going down as she walked to the back door. Unfortunately, in her hurry she hadn’t left a back light on, causing her to fumble around trying to fit the key into the lock. A noise stilled her and she slowly turned her head to peer into the darkness.

  Another noise, this one faint but sure.

  Someone was there.

  Gully’s Fall was generally a safe place but a lot of strangers passed through, so Dee held the keys in her hand with the car key poking out between her first two fingers. “Is someone there?”

  A moan.

  The hair on her neck prickled. “Who’s there?”

  A rasping pant.

  Shit, she couldn’t see anything in the dark, couldn’t make out who was there. Tracing her fingers over the lock, she managed to fit the key in and unlock it, swinging the door open. Running in, she snapped on the back light and peered out cautiously.

  Now she could see it, a hunched figure leaning against the back wall of the café. The rasping breath came from the figure.

  Taking the old hockey stick from beside the back door and the torch from the shelf, Dee moved out to stand on the footpath. Flicking on the torch, she trained the light on the figure. “What’s wrong?”

  He had his hand over his face, his arm cradling his stomach. “Nothing.” The answer was groaned. “Go inside.”

  Oh boy, she knew that voice, rasping or not. Jason Dawson. She should go inside, leave him to it. Bloody idiot probably got a flogging from someone for being an arsehole, but still… “I’ll get help.”

  “No.” He groaned, hand to face. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound it.”

  He lurched upright, his pale face fleetingly revealed in the light.

  Holy crap, his face was covered in blood.

  Without further thought, Dee ran to him, propping the hockey stick against the wall as she reached for him. “Cripes, Jason, who did you over?”

  He pushed her hands away. “Just go away, Miller. I’m okay.”

  “Sure you are. I’ll call an ambulance-”

  “No.” Turning his head, he glared down at her.

  “That would be an impressive if you didn’t look like shit,” she informed him.

  His lips twisted into a snarl, or tried to, the effect spoiled by the pain in his eyes, the fresh blood that slid from the cut lip. Pushing away from the wall, he staggered, nearly falling.

  No way could she leave him like that, a Dawson or not. “God save me from idiots,” Dee muttered. Grabbing his arm, she lifted it, ignoring his sharp inward suck of air, and stepped up to his side, pulling his arm over her shoulders. “Hang onto me.”

  The man might be lean, but she could feel muscle, strength, and wetness she just knew was blood. He was also tall, and when he leaned some of his weight on her, she actually staggered a little.

  Steering him over to the back door, she managed to get them both through into the back of the shop. In the light she got her first good look at him as he peered blearily out at her through a mass of dishevelled brown hair. “Holy crap.”

  “Looks that good, huh?” His smile was slight, crooked, bloody and pained.

  “Considering your history, I’m surprised someone managed to get a jump on you.” Leading him into the little kitchenette, she supported him as he lowered himself into one of the chairs.

  Flicking on the light, she studied him. Blood nose, eye almost swollen shut, a cut above it trickling blood, a cut lip, and going by the way he cradled his belly she just bet he had some beaut bruises.

  Wetting a clean tea towel in the sink, she wrung it out and crossed to the table. “Look at me.” When he obligingly tipped his face up, she stood between his spread legs and dabbed at the blood on his face. “You should go to the hospital.”

  “No.” He grimaced.

  “Where else are you hurt?”

  “Just had a bit of a hiding, that’s all. Lived through it before, I’ll live through it again.”

  “Want me to ring your brother?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sure he’ll come and-”

  He grabbed her wrist in a surprisingly strong hold, his one good eye hard. “I said no.”

  Hiding her disquiet, she looked from his hand around her wrist to his face. “You might want to let me go before I blacken your other eye.”

  Immediately he dropped her wrist, his gaze falling. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Surprised, she watched him for several seconds but when he said nothing further, she continued dabbing at his face. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of First Aid stuff.”

  “It’s okay.” His gaze slid back up to hers. “This is fine.”

  It was a surreal moment. Jason Dawson was sitting and bleeding in the back of her shop, not swearing at her and actually apologising. Maybe the beating had knocked some decency into his brain. Then again, he’d walked her home without asking anything either, and that had been a huge surprise.

  “I’m surprised you helped me.” He gingerly swiped a trickle of blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

  “Are you?” She kept her attention on his face as she wiped carefully around his eye. More blood trickled from the cut above his eye so she pressed the tea towel lightly against it, trying to make it clot.

  He flinched but remained still. “Yeah. Thought you’d see who I was and leave me.”

  “I’m not like that.”

  “I know.” He went silent.

  Not comfortable with the silence, Dee asked, “Who did this?”

  He shrugged.

  “I can phone the cops-”

  His bark of laughter, quickly cut off with a grimace of pain, stopped her words. When she looked quizzically at him, he rasped, “The cops won’t be that unhappy with me getting a flogging. Don’t bother.”

  “You have to admit you do have a rep.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He hesitated then started to push upwards. “Speaking of which, I better go.”

  “Don’t be a jerk.” Placing her hand on his shoulder, she pushed him back down into the seat. “I’ll clean you up-” Her voice trailed away when she noticed his clenched jaw, the way his fist on the table tightened. “Jason? Is something wrong with your shoulder?”

  He sucked in a breath. “Just a little bitumen burn, it’ll be fine.”

  “Right.” She stepped back. “Off with that shirt.”

  He cut his one good eye at her.

  “There’s blood on the back of it and I need to see what else is wrong.” Returning to the sink, she rinsed out the tea towel. “Man, this can’t be sterile but it’s better than nothing.”

  The back door opening and shutting had Jason shoving abruptly to his feet, his gaze on the doorway of the kitchenette, one arm around his now naked waist.

  Dee immediately sprang for the doorway, fear filling her at the thought that whoever had beaten up Jason had seen her bring him into her shop and had come looking to dish out more damage.

  No sooner had she moved than Jason grabbed her arm and hauled her back, his tight grip making her gasp.

  Ryder strode into the room. He’d obviously knocked off work not long ago, his dark green pants and shirt with the paramedic and ambulance logo on it slightly rumpled. A lock of dark hair flopped over his forehead.

  “I knew you were hiding out-” He halted abruptly, his gaze whipping from Jason to Dee, to Jason’s hand on her arm. Immediately he sprang forward, his eyes darkening, jaw clenching. “Let her go, Dawson, now, or I’ll bust your arse!”

  “Wait!” Dee flung herself between them, only to have Ryder catch her arm and yank her behind him.

  Or he tried to, but since Jason still held her other arm, it wasn’t going to work.

  “Stop!” She yelled. “Jesus, you’l
l pull me in half!”

  “You heard her!” Ryder shoved forward, his arm sliding around her waist, hand hooking securely on her hip, his other hand fisting, fury in his eyes.

  Jason released her, shifting back, the chair tipping as the back of his knees hit it.

  In a fast move, Ryder pulled Dee behind him. He was moving fast, with determination, and she had to shove in front of him, bracing her hands on his chest, forcing him to stop or push her over.

  “Goddamn it, Dee-”

  “He’s hurt! I found him and brought him inside! Ryder, listen to me, I’m fine!”

  Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her close, his gaze raking over her face, searching for any sign that she’d been harmed.

  The fury in his eyes simmered down a little, but anger remained as his gaze switched to where Jason stood. One of his hands slid down her back to lie against her waist, pulling her even closer as he continued to glare at the other man.

  Wow, he’d actually pulled her against him in a move both protective and almost possessive, as though laying claim. For several stupid seconds she allowed herself to wallow in that feeling, but then commonsense took over and she pushed out of his hold.

  Or tried to, but he didn’t release her, his palm flattening on the back of her waist. She was so hard against him now that she could feel every hard swell of him, every hard bump of his six pack, the strength in his arms, the hardness of his hand on her waist, they were so close.

  Holy cow, she was going to go on fire.

  Ryder looked over her head at Jason. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Okay, that pulled her from her dreamy musings. Tipping her head back, she looked up at Ryder, seeing the tightness of his jaw, the grimness of his handsome face. “I found him outside and brought him in to clean him up.”

  Ryder’s gaze snapped down to her. “You what?”

  “He needed help.”

  “You brought him in here alone?”

  “There was no one else to help me.”

  “Dee.”

  “Fine. Yes, I am alone and I still brought him into my home.” She gave him a shove.

  Ryder didn’t move, his gaze just burning into hers. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

  “Cripes, you just told me and I just told you!” Annoyed, she gave him another shove. “Let me go.”

  “Goddamn it, Dee, you could have been hurt!”

  “I wouldn’t hurt her.” Jason spoke before she could protest.

  Ryder looked narrowly at him. “Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to harm one hair on her head.”

  Lips tight, Jason bent painfully, picking the chair up to return it to its original position. “I’m going anyway, Montague.”

  “No.” Dee started forward, only to have Ryder jerk her back against him.

  One look up into his eyes and she swallowed further protests. God, she’d never seen him look so furious and she’d seen him in some doozies, mostly caused by her. But there was something different about this fury, something almost tangible. Almost…dangerous.

  In an unexpected move, Ryder steered her to the other side of the table with a steely arm around her waist. “I suppose your First Aid kit is as useless as tits on a bull?”

  “Depends what you want,” she said.

  “Betadine, sterile solution, Steri-Strips, Tegaderm with pad?”

  “That’d be no to all of those.” She smiled brightly up at him. “I do have Bandaids.”

  “Stay right here.” He shot Jason a hard look. “And you stay there.”

  Silently, Jason looked from Dee to Ryder before sinking back down onto the kitchen chair.

  “I have a First Aid kit in the car.” Ryder strode from the room.

  “Man is such an arse.” Walking around the table to where Jason sat, she picked up the tea towel.

  “Maybe that isn’t such a good idea.” He took it from her, pressing it to the still-bleeding cut above his eye.

  “Why?”

  “Your boyfriend won’t be happy.”

  “Boyfriend?” She scoffed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  Jason just looked at her.

  The sound of a car door shutting had Dee’s spine straightening, but she refused to shift away when Ryder strode back into the kitchenette. One look at his clenched jaw and the way his eyes narrowed had a delicious little chill go through her, but she ignored it. The man was being an arse.

  Without saying a word, he walked around the table and nudged her aside with his hip, neatly inserting himself between her and Jason.

  A total arse.

  Unexpectedly, Ryder grabbed her wrists, holding them up and turning them as he did a quick but thorough study of her hands. She knew immediately that he was checking her for any signs of Jason’s blood on her skin, but she’d been careful. Giving a satisfied nod, he released her wrists and turned back to the other man.

  Did he think she was such a drongo? With an annoyed huff, she moved to the opposite side and sat down, leaning both forearms on the table top.

  Jason gave her a wry look.

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Tip your head back, Dawson,” Ryder ordered quietly as he pulled on gloves.

  The authority rang in his voice, his deft movements and confidence making Dee watch him with grudging respect. The man might be a total arse but he was also a good paramedic. Knew his job, worked calmly and efficiently, and didn’t use his knowledge to cause Jason further pain even though he could easily have done so under the guise of tending to his wounds.

  She couldn’t help but watch the flex of the muscles in his arms, the long fingers moving almost delicately across the worst injuries, big, capable hands moving assuredly, the way he studied the wounds, assessed quickly, and decided the best dressings to use.

  Man had a lot of dressings in his First Aid kit. Gauze, cotton wool, bottles of liquid and powder, several small pots, vials of Normal Saline, Betadine swabs, tweezers, Primapore and Tegaderm dressings of varying sizes, combines, bandages and other paraphernalia of which she wasn’t sure. “Do you raid the ambulance to restock?”

  “No.” His answer was short and to the point.

  Oh ho, he was still mad at her.

  Now that she wasn’t plastered against him, feeling all that yummy heat and strength, she felt on safer territory. Not that she’d forget how good it felt to be held up against him so protectively and possessively. Over the years she’d felt his protection, had been yanked behind him and against him during arguments or fights with others as school kids, even held by him while she cried her eyes out over the death of her beloved old dog, but never had he held her with a hint of possessiveness.

  Maybe he hadn’t just then, either, maybe it was all wishful thinking.

  That thought made her already sore heart give a painful thud, so she switched her attention to Jason. “What happened?”

  “Got done over.”

  “You don’t say.”

  There was a slight twitch of his lips.

  “Who by?” Dee asked.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Do they look as bad?”

  He gave a grunt.

  “Was it at the pub?”

  “No.”

  “Party?”

  “No.”

  “Geez, it’d be less painful to have teeth pulled.”

  Jason winced as Ryder dabbed Betadine on the cut above his eye. “You’re not getting your boyfriend’s tender administrations.”

  Ryder didn’t say a word, just kept working.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” God, was she actually blushing a little?

  Unfortunately, Ryder chose that exact second to glance at her, making her blush more. She never blushed.

  His gaze was intense, direct, and holy heck, fury still burned within them. The combination made her swallow and glance away, acutely uncomfortable.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d not been able to meet his eyes, but it was a week of surprises, apparently. Some good,
some bad, and some just plain freakin’ weird.

  Never one to like uncertainty, Dee drew in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and let annoyance at her unsettled emotions take over. It was a hell of a lot easier than being so damned skittery.

  Shooting a challenging glare at Ryder, who just met it with narrowed eyes before returning his attention to the wounds, she drummed her fingers on the table top. “So, Dawson, you’re having a rough day.”

  Jason slid her a look.

  “Where’s your brother? Usually the two of you come as a package deal.”

  She could almost see the stiffness flowing through his body, the way he went still with tension, right before he relaxed slightly.

  “He’s out,” Jason replied.

  “He’s going to be pissed when he sees your face.”

  Jason’s smile was tight.

  “Your Dad even more so.”

  “You’d think.”

  It was obvious the man wasn’t going to say anything about the identity of his attacker, so Dee gave up and watched Ryder fix him. But she couldn’t help but notice the fading bruises on his ribcage, just as she couldn’t help but notice that lean as he was, Jason had muscle. Long, lean muscles from hard work on the farm. Good biceps and triceps, muscular torso, even a freakin’ six pack. Farm work was heavy work, and heavy work built muscle. She’d never noticed it with him before, but she was sure getting a good look now.

  Actually, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing him shirtless. Man always wore t-shirts, ripped and oil-stained as they were. Even as a kid he’d never taken his shirts off, and just like when he was a kid, he sported fading bruises. As a kid he’d gotten them from both his father and whoever he fought with inside and outside the schoolyard. Hell, Scott and Ryder had both had fights with the Dawson brothers on and off throughout the school years until they’d all matured.