by Rachel Cade
As if they were long time friends or something. Sure they almost died together but…
He was sitting up, chest heaving as he stared at her. It was a moment before he blinked.
Then he lowered his head, hissing as he touched his stitched up temple.
“I was - I was trying to tell you earlier, a bullet hit your shoulder and grazed your side. Glass cut your face and neck. That’s why there was so much blood.”
“Where is this?” he asked gruffly.
She was caught in his stare. His eyes were clear but he looked a haggard mess. Like a man who’d been shot at and unconscious for close to two days. She’d spent it looking over him, trying to nurse him back to health. Worrying about him.
Now that Jack was awake it was a harsh reminder that even hurt, she should still be afraid of him.
“My house,” she answered.
“What?” The medication was still heavy in his system. But he still managed to snap his voice.
Her brows raised when he started sliding his legs over to the side of the bed. “What are you doing?”
“I need to go. Where’s my bag?”
“Are you crazy?” She wished she hadn’t asked that and quickly spoke over herself. “Lay down.” She reached for his shoulders, which were sticky with sweat. “You lost a ton of blood and you’re loaded with painkillers.”
He resisted her at first, giving her a stare that should have sent her packing. But she refused to move her hands. “Can you just-”
Jack sighed, turning his head before slowly lowering himself back to the pillows.
When she placed her hand on his forehead, he snapped his eyes at her.
She quickly explained, “Look, Devin said I’m supposed to check and make sure you don’t develop a fever.” She lowered her hand from his face adding softly, “He saved your life the other night. I think it’s good to follow his advice.”
“Other night? How long have I been here?”
“A couple of days.”
His frown deepened and he looked away. The small movement tightened his mouth before he reached for the bandage at his neck. “What happened? How’d we end up at your place?”
“I wanted to bring you to a hospital. But you refused. I didn’t know what else to do but call my friend Devin. He’s a doctor in residency.”
Jack’s brows hung low over his eyes. “You bandaged me up in the car.”
Her laugh was pitiful. “I tried to. It was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. His jaw was stiff and she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or pain. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
“You already apologized in the car.” Everything still felt like a whirlwind, even in that quiet moment. As she looked over him, the patchwork of deep old scars on his body seemed more prominent.
She took a deep breath before she spoke again, “Who are you, Jack?”
His silence didn’t surprise her. She wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was expecting.
Here he was attempting to get up and walk away, not even healed.
Maybe it was the wrong time to try and get the explanation she felt like she was owed. But with a man like him, was there ever a good time?
“Me and you are strangers. It’s probably best if it stays that way.” He took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did for me. I owe you one.”
Ciara could tell he was frustrated; her guess was he wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable. Still it was probably the closest he could come to being nice.
Ciara smiled gently. “If you think you can handle some food on your stomach, I can grab brunch for you.”
He tried to shift a bit in the bed.
“And will you stay here until I get back?”
Jack seemed to want to curse but his mouth stayed a straight line, thankfully he nodded.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t try to get up, you’ve got stitches.”
The first thing he noticed when he regained coherent thought is that she’d cleaned herself up. Today, her dress was bright orange with soft flower designs near the bottom. It wasn’t cheap, just like everything else in the room.
Jack wasn’t used to this shit at all. Next to the bed was a vase of fresh white flowers. On the opposite nightstand was a first aid kit and a wooden basket of supplies with a thermometer sticking out of it.
The longer he laid there, the more of an asshole he felt like.
Yeah, he more than owed her one.
But one thing he couldn’t give was the explanation she was looking for.
For one, explaining himself wasn’t a thing he’d done in a long time. And two, he’d told her like it was. They were strangers, two people that met at the wrong place at the wrong time. She shouldn’t want to know who he was because they should’ve never met.
She returned with a breakfast tray ten minutes later. The familiar sent of bacon caused him to sit up with an eagerness he hadn’t intended.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she began as she made her way toward the bed, “that I didn’t kill any of this myself-”
The joke raised his brows before they quickly settled. “You’re going to bust my balls for the rest of the day, ain’t ya?”
“That’s a little crass,” she answered with a smirk, setting the tray over his lap. “And I’m sure it would be very difficult.”
Jack almost swore at the sight. Bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, waffles, and French toast covered the tray on three white square plates. There was even a small round plate with diagonally cut fruit next to a glass of orange juice.
“I didn’t know what you would like, so I grabbed a little of everything. We had coffee, but orange juice is probably better for you.”
Jack glanced up at her despite his cramping stomach. “You cooked all this?”
Ciara laughed. “Me? No. But I did walk to the main house to get it from the cook. I’m keeping your presence here under wraps. Mostly because I don’t want my parents asking why a stitched up white man is in my guest room.”
Jack had already started eating. “I meant it when I said I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“Can you give yourself a second to heal?” she questioned. “I get that you’re probably used to taking care of yourself, but - it’s okay to accept help sometimes.”
Jack had never tasted waffles like this in his life. The light buttery texture melted in his mouth without syrup. “Jesus.”
“Yeah, Gary doesn’t play around. I love him.”
Jack took a sip of orange juice. “What about your car?”
“It’s in the garage covered up. No one will bother it until I figure out what to do.”
Jack nodded as he finished off the bacon. “You’re good at taking care of things.”
Ciara sat on the side of the bed, crossing her legs. “And you’re good at setting traps and shooting people. Interesting skills for a mechanic.”
He didn’t stop eating; now he was on to the eggs. Why were her eyes on him?
“Yeah well, knowing me ain’t interestin.’”
“I doubt that,” she quickly responded.
“Do you?”
She nodded. “A whole lot.”
“You’re a lot different when you’re in your own habitat, I see.” He glanced down at her position on the bed.
“And you’re exactly the same everywhere you are.” She observed him while he ate, “Gruff, closed off-” She stood and moved to a corner of the room before coming back to place his black duffle bag, the one he’d pulled from inside the bush, on the bed. “Dangerous,” she finished.
With a hand that wasn’t holding the fork, he slid the bag over to his hip.
“I didn’t open it,” she said. “But I wanted to - a lot.”
“Appreciate it.” For some reason, he believed her.
Instead of giving him some silence to finish a damn good breakfast, words eagerly spilled from her mouth. “Are you so
me kind of rogue government agent or something?”
“I’ve never met a woman that talks as much as you.”
Ciara peered at him. “You can’t possibly expect me not to be curious about you. This is what happens when you interact with other humans.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Thank God you showed up otherwise I was this close to startin’ my own language.”
Ciara’s laugh was sudden and loud filling the room. Then she covered her mouth to smother it, turning her head away.
She had a nice smile.
Like a model’s.
Jack shifted his legs slightly and felt a small ache on his side as a result.
Was there any purpose at this point in noticing she was attractive? Hell, he’d always noticed. But in the space of a few hours, things had gotten so damn complicated. He knew the only thing he should be focused on was getting out of this woman’s life.
He finished the breakfast in record time and most of the juice, ignoring her quietly watching him at times until her phone rang and she excused herself.
When she was out of sight, Jack moved the tray away from his lap and opened his bag and pulling out his burner phone and charger.
He thought he’d never need to use it.
Standing shouldn’t have been difficult, but Jack had forgotten about the pain medication she’d given him. He usually never touched pills, so his system wasn’t used to it. As he squirmed in the bed, it was the first time he thought to check below the covers to see if he was naked. His jeans were gone, but thankfully he was still in his boxers.
The feeling of vulnerability and soreness made him want to knock something over.
He slid his feet off the side of the bed to sit up and pressed his heels into the deep blue carpet.
A few inches over for that bullet and he’d probably be headed to the morgue right now. Was it the first time he’d been in a life or death situation? No. But it was the first time it ever showed up on his front door.
He stood on the first try, wincing from the pain in his side. His head still ached too, but he made his way for the door he hoped led to a bathroom.
If possible, it was more floral than the bedroom. From the thin pink flowers on the wallpaper to the fresh flowers on the wide sink. He felt like he was in an upscale hotel.
The first sight of himself in the mirror over the sink had him grimacing. Not only did he have a huge bandage on his side, he had another on his neck and there was stitching over his right eye.
He definitely looked like he lost the game.
Placing his hands on both sides of the sink he looked down from his reflection.
His house. The only place he could try and get some solitude.Now it was compromised, and he couldn’t even consider going back until he figured out what was going on.
And on top of it, he almost got an innocent person killed.
“Are you alright to walk?” She stood in the doorway, watching him. In the mirror’s reflection he could see she’d halted herself at the door frame.
Jack straightened. “Yeah I’m good.”
Her expression shifted toward the tub. “Devin said you should wait a couple days before getting your side wet. But you can still wash up; fresh towels are in the cabinet to your left.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
She stayed for another moment and seemed to want to say more, but thankfully, she just nodded once and left him alone.
The man was hurt and she was staring at his back.
For a split second when she came into the bedroom, she thought he’d left somehow.
But then she saw him in the bathroom, standing in front of the sink looking weary. She had to stop herself from going to him, not knowing if it would irritate him. Regardless, it was impossible not to notice his form. He wasn’t naked, but he might as well have been. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t mind ogling at all. But under normal circumstances, they never would have met.
Ciara shook her head at herself as she set the breakfast tray on her kitchen counter.
Since he was washing up, she could take a minute or two to clear her head.
Usually her closet space offered her a sense of serenity. She grew up surrounded by beautiful things and she loved them all. She’s spent plenty of time here excitedly preparing for dates and events. Wall to wall glamour adorned the space. She’d been in two magazine spreads covering it.
Her mother always said nothing could fix a bad day faster than a good dress. But she was having more than a bad day. Things hadn’t been going well for a while, and now this situation with Jack. She’d been by his side most of the time and when she wasn’t, when she was alone at night her dreams were terrible. Gunshots and screams. Fear had her starting at shadows and turning on every light in her house.
She put on a good show, even for Jack because that was what she was taught.
Best face forward, always.
Her phone rang. And she almost screamed before she swallowed it.
Cutting her eyes at it she had no plans to answer until the name was announced: “Call from Marcus Kelly.”
“Answer,” she sighed.
“Did you forget about our lunch date?”
His deep voice asked.
Shit, that was today!
Ciara held her forehead. “Marcus. I’m so sorry.”
Her dad introduced them at his fundraiser a week earlier and they set up the date.
“I’m here at Tora’s all by my lonesome. Hope you didn’t stand me up on purpose.” He teased.
Her social calendar was something she always stayed on top of, but she hadn’t planned to almost die the day before. Though she couldn’t offer that as an explanation.
“Of course I wouldn’t. I had a personal emergency. I’ve been kind of a mess all morning.” She used her soft voice to gain sympathy.
“Sorry to hear that. Anything I could help with?” She didn’t know much about Marcus outside of his wholesale business and restaurant in New York.
He was handsome in that classic way. But men were a dime a dozen and she didn’t have the time right now to entertain him.
“No, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Would you still be able to join me then?”
“I would love to, but I think it’s best we reschedule.” She slipped of the dress and started searching for another on her rack. Maybe one of them could pick up her mood.
There was quiet on the other side of the line.
“When’s a good time for you?”
She sighed with relief. “How about this time next week?”
“Sounds good, see you then. I hope everything gets sorted out for you.”
“Thanks.” A vintage cream Azzedine Alaia dress slipped from her hanger. She’d borrowed it from her mother’s closet and hadn’t been called out on it yet.
It almost fell to the ground when she saw Jack standing in the doorway.
He seemed to be in the process of backing away when their eyes locked.
“I didn’t know you were -” He cast his head to the ground. “ I should have knocked. Sorry.”
Ciara held her dress against her body. She was pretty positive he’d seen her bra and underwear. So had plenty of other people on her shoots. But even covered from him now it caused her face to heat.
He was dressed now in a clean pair of jeans and a white tank top. It must have been in that bag because she sure as hell didn’t have clothes that would fit him.
He still didn’t look up. “Someone’s knocking on your door downstairs.”
“Shit.” Still holding the dress to her body, she grabbed the phone which connected to her security. “April, sweetie, I’m still using the tray. You can come for it later.”
“Okay, Ms. Kimball.”
“Okay. She’s gone. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Uh huh,” he murmured, turning.
“Wait, Jack.”
He did, but still denied her eye contact.
Ciara knew her beauty could coax men into doing
what she wanted and trying to impress her and for an odd brief moment she wondered what Jack saw when he looked at her.
What in the world was she thinking?
She quickly lowered the dress and stepped into it. It was the quickest way to cover up.