Lethal Game

by Julie Rowe

  She sighed.

  Throwing him out of her head wasn’t working.

  She examined a dozen of slides then grabbed the handful of Complete Blood Count reports one of the techs dropped off. The one on the top was flagged with a red sticker.

  The name on the report was her own. She looked at the platelet count. Low. Really low.

  Shit.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  This was the second test with a much too low platelet count. One more like this and she was done. Sent home for medical treatment. A medical discharge almost guaranteed.

  She’d taken medication that should have raised her cell count, but it hadn’t done the job. Her bone marrow wasn’t responding. If she was going to stay on the job, be of any help at all to Max and the team, she was going to have to up her dosage or try another medication. Or both.

  Her bruises were going to get worse. If she started bleeding spontaneously, Max would send her home immediately.

  She left her office and went to Eugene. “I need to go to the Dispensary and don’t want to piss off my babysitter. Would you go with me?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Just let me let the boss know.”

  Eugene called Max, got the go-ahead and they left.

  The Dispensary wasn’t far, just two buildings over, and the pharmacist didn’t even blink when Sophia handed him a new script for the medication she took to keep her ITP in check.

  She and Eugene returned to the lab without talking. Eugene seemed intent on watching for threats and she let him. Right now, talking wasn’t high on her list of things to do.

  As soon as she got into her office, she took another dose of her medication, then attempted to go back to work.

  Her brain wouldn’t let her.

  Ten years. She’d had ten years since she’d gone into remission, worked so hard, become a doctor, all with the hope of making a difference in people’s lives, only to get sick again.

  She wanted to make a difference. Wanted to help people. She’d worked so hard, yet her body was betraying her again. It didn’t matter how tired she got, she wasn’t going to give up her dream until it was done.

  A sob caught her unawares and she slapped a hand over her mouth. No. If someone heard her crying, they’d investigate. She breathed deep, through her nose and out through her mouth.

  She had time yet.

  Time before she had to tell Max.

  Time to make a difference. She’d figure out a way to contribute. She would.

  Connor. What was she going to do about him? He was going to notice if she started showing more physical symptoms. He noticed everything.

  She’d told him about her funny platelets. Maybe she could blame them for the bruising and nosebleeds that might occur.

  She nodded to herself, wiped her face and was cleaning the morning’s work away when her door opened.

  Connor, Smoke and River walked in.

  “Hi, Doctor,” Connor said. “Miss us?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Where’s my tent?” Sophia asked, looking at their empty hands.

  “Set up in an empty staging area,” Connor explained. “Which won’t be empty for much longer. Eugene said that the base is expecting a bunch of electronics, parts and body armor from the States sometime later today. So, if you want to check out how we did and make any changes, now is the time.”

  “Good idea. I can come now.” She walked toward them and made to go around, but Connor caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. “I’m sorry for being an ass earlier.”

  “It’s fine.” She tried to pull away, but he wasn’t letting go.

  “It’s not fine. What’s going on?” He studied her face so hard she was afraid he’d see everything. “You don’t look so good.”

  She sighed and glanced at Smoke and River. They had the same expression on their faces as Connor did. Concerned. “After you guys left,” she said, feeling her way through the words, hoping she didn’t say the wrong ones, “I tried to keep my mind on work, but found it difficult, and I had a little bit of a cry.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’m okay now, though.”

  Connor raised one eyebrow.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I said okay, not great.”

  “You should talk to someone,” Connor said.

  He was right. The events of last night would probably rate a few conversations with someone. Friends were acceptable if the soldier decided to talk to them.

  “Could we talk? Later?”

  “Sure, my therapy rates are very reasonable,” he said with a smile. “All it’ll cost is an hour or two at the shooting range.”

  He was trying to be funny, but she just couldn’t find the energy to be more than sarcastic. “I keep telling you, shooting paper people isn’t therapy.”

  “It is if you shoot enough of them.”

  She stared at him. Was that supposed to be funny?

  “I prefer explosives,” Smoke said after an awkward second of silence. “Boom.”

  “I’m a knife man, myself,” River said.

  “You guys are nuts,” she told them. “Now take me to my tent.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Connor led the way. Inside the large storage area was the level three tent. She walked all the way around it, inspecting every seam, grommet and pole. Then she went inside and inspected it again.

  It wasn’t round or square or oblong. Rather, it was shaped more like a star, with several narrow working areas that could be enclosed and isolated from the rest of the tent. The tent itself was composed of a tough canvas covered in a non-breathable plastic-like material that was stretchy, resisted tears and had some limited ability to reseal even if cut.

  The initial idea for the material had come from studying spiderweb silk.

  She checked the internal room separators, zipping them up to see if there were any places on the tent that were too tight or too loose. There were special holes in each working area so power and air purification connections could be made from the outside. Each hole had to be sealable and resistant to air movement even when something was in them.

  She couldn’t find a single thing she’d change or adjust. They’d done a perfect job.

  How long would she have to do her job before her misfiring body took it all away from her?

  Took everything from her.

  Despair hit her with a sledgehammer to her gut and she had to bend over to breathe through it.

  She wiped her face again and made herself stand up straight. She couldn’t let her thoughts dwell on the negative. She’d never get anything done that way.

  She pinned a smile, a small one, on her face and exited the tent. “Great job, guys,” she said to the three men waiting for her assessment. “It looks and functions as it should. Would it be possible for you to write up a short report on the assembly procedure?”

  “There were a few steps where more details might make things less confusing,” Connor said, staring at her with a frown. “The shape is a pain in the ass to figure out at first.”

  “So far, that’s the biggest problem we have with the design.”

  Connor walked up to her, his gaze never leaving her face. “Crying again?” he asked softly.

  “You can tell?” Did she have a neon sign on her forehead?

  “You have tear tracks on your face.”

  “Damn it.” She wiped her face again, but it probably didn’t help. “I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

  Connor turned to Smoke and River. “You two dismantle the tent and bring it back to Sophia’s office. I’m taking her for a little therapy.”

  “Shooting? Really?” she asked.

  He looked at her with one side of his mouth turned up. “A hot shower and something to eat.”

  “Meet you in t
he food court,” River said as he and Smoke walked past them to the tent.

  Connor put a hand on the small of her back and urged her toward the door. As soon as they were outside, the sun hot on her face, he said quietly, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to someone, you know, official?”

  He said the word official like it tasted bad.

  She grunted. “No. That just creates a ton of paperwork and usually results in the Army sticking its nose somewhere it doesn’t belong.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he said, his gaze roving the area like he expected an attack.

  “What did you do after your...you were blown up? Did you talk to a psychologist?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Will I have a choice?”

  “You’re the doctor, what do you think?”

  “I’m not that kind of doctor.”

  “A doctor is a doctor. Don’t you all go through the same training for the first few years?”

  “Yes, but I was never very good with people.”

  “Makes sense I suppose. You seem to like your tiny things a lot.”

  “Not everything I like is tiny.” She said it under her breath.

  Connor stopped walking. “You did not just say what I thought you said.” He shook his head.

  “What? You’re unhappy because I like the size of your—”

  “Do not say the next word.”

  “Hands.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sitting on his bed listening to Sophia shower wasn’t where Con wanted to be. Nope, he wanted to be in there with her. Holding her so she could let go of all the crap circling inside her head, the fear and horror of what might have been.

  He thought she’d been okay this morning, but something had happened to derail her while he, Smoke and River had wrestled with her tent. She’d have told him if someone bothered her, right?

  Of course, she’d be naked and he’d be naked and he’d do a lot more than just hold her. He’d do his best to wipe last night right off her mental map. It’d take only a half-dozen orgasms or so. Maybe.

  The bathroom door opened and Sophia came out brushing her hair. She was wearing cozy pajamas made of a fabric that looked soft and touchable. There was nothing sexy about it, except for the woman wearing it.

  Right now, that woman was wearing a hesitant expression.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. When she ducked her head, he moved closer until he could tilt her chin up.

  She made eye contact and what he saw in her gaze made his stomach clench. She was hurting. “Sophia?”

  “I need you.” The pain in her voice stabbed him in the gut.

  “What’s wrong with that?” He was happy to give her whatever she needed. More than happy.

  “I don’t know any of the rules. I thought we’d talk about it this morning, but there wasn’t time, and now I’m scared I’m going to mess things up.”

  “First off, the only rules there are, are the ones we agree on. What happens between us in private is just that, private.” He kissed her, a slow slide that had him hungry for more. He gazed down into her big eyes and asked, “What do you want?”

  “My brain won’t shut off, and it’s driving me crazy.” She looked at him like he was the only man who mattered in her world. “You fried my circuits last night. Do it again?”

  Holy fuck.

  He wanted to give her what she wanted, sex, hot, sweaty, dirty sex, but she was a fucking virgin. Despite their no-strings agreement she deserved a man who’d be there for her. Not a guy who wanted to walk into the first righteous battle he could find and never walk out.

  There were other ways to blow her mind besides full-on sex.

  “When you listened to me and Eugene talking about oral sex, did you like what you heard?”

  She licked her lips and nodded. “All I could think about was your head between my legs and what your mouth would feel like on m—”

  Her bald confession lit him up and he was kissing her before she finished saying the last word.

  Settle down, asshole, you’re going to scare her.

  Eager hands wrapped around his shoulders as she leaned into him and moaned.

  Or not.

  He hauled her closer, one hand at the base of her back, so he could rub his erection against her belly.

  She shuddered and groaned into his mouth, kissing him back just as fiercely.

  He moved the hand cradling the back of her neck down. All he felt beneath her pajama top was skin.

  “I want your nipples in my mouth,” he said, hardly recognizing the ragged voice coming out of him as his own.

  The noise that came out of her was sharp, urgent and needy.

  “I’m going to strip your top off you and suck your nipples until you scream.”

  “Connor,” she moaned. “Stop talking and do it.”

  He kissed her again, his hands pushing her top up and over her breasts. God they were pretty, with berry-red nipples he couldn’t wait to taste.

  Bruises were scattered across her torso and arms, making him pause. No, he wasn’t going to let what those assholes did sour this for her.

  He cupped her with both hands and they filled his palm and then some.

  She gasped and stumbled back.

  He caught her with one arm, the other hand molding the breast it cradled. Her top got in the way, so he pulled it over her head and off.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off the swell of her flesh, the dusky areolas or her nipples, hardened with arousal.

  “Connor?” Her question sounded frustrated and impatient.

  He dragged his gaze up to her face. “How’s your brain? Still thinking?”

  Her brow furrowed. “What?”

  He petted her, letting his fingers massage and stroke the sensitive skin around her breasts. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  She hung in his arms, her breathing fast and shallow, her eyes dilated until the rim of blue was just a ring around the black. “No one has ever seen...” Her voice trailed off into nothing as he put his hand on her breast and flicked his thumb over the nipple. He rolled it between thumb and forefinger next and her eyes fluttered shut.

  No man has ever seen her like this. The thought made him harder than stone and greedier than King Midas. No man has ever touched her.

  She clutched at him and ran her hands over his chest, abdomen and shoulders. “I want to touch all your muscles.” Her untutored hands had him shaking with the need to fuck her, but this wasn’t about him, it was all about her.

  He continued to torment her nipple as he leaned down to kiss her softly, gently. He wanted her with him every step of the way. “Gorgeous,” he whispered. “So fucking gorgeous.” He trailed kisses, stopping every so often to nip and suck down her neck. “Still thinking, sweetheart?”

  She moaned, but nothing intelligible.

  Getting closer.

  “Let’s find out if you can orgasm just from this.” He bent her back and nibbled his way to her nipple. He sucked it in and she bucked and bit the heel of one of her hands.

  He laved it with his tongue and sucked it, over and over.

  She gasped and shook.

  She was nearly there.

  He sent one hand down her body and massaged her clit through her clothes.

  She screamed into her hand, her knees buckled, and he scooped her up, laying her on his narrow bed. Her eyes were squeezed shut. “Sophia?”

  * * *

  The sound of her name coming from his throat made it a demand, an entreaty. She forced her eyes open to stare up at Con, the marauder, the thief who’d stolen her breath, her will. He’d given her something in return.

  Pleasure.

  Pleasure was somethin
g she’d felt little of in her life, and what she’d experienced was mainly intellectual satisfaction. Not physical, primitive, sensual satisfaction.

  Now that she knew what it was and felt it, she craved it. And she found she loved seeing him like this, hot, hard and hungry for her.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, hovering over her breasts like a great beast. Yet, she knew he was putting her own sexual needs before his own.

  “No,” she breathed. “Never stop.”

  He growled and took her mouth in a rush, kissing her like she was as necessary for him to continue breathing as air.

  When he lifted his head, he slowly looked down her body until he reached the juncture of her thighs. “I’m going to take these off you and make you come again.” His voice sounded like it had been ground up by gravel.

  She made a shocked sound at the back of her throat. Oh, how she wanted that. “Yes.”

  He smiled at her and it promised so much sin, she shivered.

  He lowered his head and began sucking on her breasts, while his hands worked her pajama bottoms and panties down and off. His gaze flicked up to meet hers as his mouth moved lower and he left kisses on her abdomen and navel.

  Why did everywhere he touched feel like an erogenous zone?

  She panted, unsure what to do. This position left her so exposed. A whimper escaped her lips.

  “Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered as he moved up to kiss one breast then the other. “I’ve got you.”

  He began to lick and suck one of her nipples while he circled her clitoris with one thumb.

  The sensations were electric and were winding her up even tighter than before.

  When he replaced his thumb with one finger and began shallowly penetrating her she thought she was going to come off the bed. “Oh God, that feels so good.”

  He hummed, sucked hard on her nipple while fucking her with his index finger.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” He had her wavering on the edge of an explosion she wasn’t sure she was going to survive.

  He hooked his finger inside her, rubbing a spot that might as well have blast off written all over it.