Chasing Silver

by Jamie Craig

  He led her up a sidewalk path to a narrow set of concrete stairs. Walking honed her attention back on her injuries, but while it took every ounce of her strength, Remy made it to the second floor without stumbling. She even refrained from leaning against the wall when he paused to unlock a door. It wouldn’t last long, though. Her back was starting to spasm and her wrist to ache. Remy hoped he wouldn’t waste any time getting her fixed up.

  Nathan turned on the small apartment’s single overhead lamp and gestured toward the vintage couch, the only piece of furniture in the room. There was a small clunky monitor on a stand in the corner, but she didn’t see a keyboard near it, probably rolled up and put away. A bookshelf dominated the wall, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. Antique books, the sort she used to read in the detention center’s library, lined the top three shelves. Glossy-covered magazines were stacked haphazardly on the next shelf, and her fingers itched to touch them, to see if they were as smooth as they looked. Beneath that were rows of thin, multi-colored boxes. They were too small to be more books. She supposed they could have been computer software of some sort, but they were larger than most computers, even the cheap ones. The other walls were bare, the floor uncluttered, and through a doorway, the kitchen counter was empty of everything except what could have been a microwave, except it was enormous. A short hall led to what must have been the bathroom and bedroom, and he disappeared into the dark corridor after telling her to make herself comfortable.

  When he returned, he carried a small plastic box, white with a red cross on the top, a large white T-shirt, and a bottle labeled “hydrogen peroxide.” Noticing she still stood in the middle of the room, Nathan nodded toward the couch again. “Lay down and take off your shirt.”

  Remy gave him her best smirk. “Kind of hard to get the shirt off once I’m already down.” Grabbing the hem, she whipped it over her head, ignoring the painful twinges in her back. It left her in cargoes, boots, and a tiny black bra barely covering her nipples. By the time she tossed the shirt aside, Nathan’s eyes were no longer on her face.

  She took her time crossing to the couch, enjoying the heavy weight of his gaze on her body. This was better. A known situation. Remy had had to spend too much of her life using her looks as a weapon not to know when a man found her attractive.

  She sat and bent down to take off her boots, making sure to display her breasts to their very full advantage. As she stretched out on her stomach, Nathan detoured into the kitchen for a bowl of hot water. Kneeling beside the couch when he returned, he set to work, gently wiping the blood from her skin. His fingers were light and skilled, as though he regularly cleaned and bandaged injured damsels in distress. But occasionally, his hands strayed, brushing against skin she knew couldn’t be injured or stained with blood.

  He paused long enough to drench a cotton ball with the hydrogen peroxide. “This might sting a little.” He touched the edge of the injury lightly, then rubbed it across the length of the cut without further warning.

  “A little” was an understatement. With a sharp hiss, Remy buried her face in the pillow she’d grabbed, steeling against the deliberate swabs across the wound. To his credit, Nathan worked quickly. By the time she started to relax, he was done.

  She lifted her head and met his concerned gaze. The brilliance of his blue eyes made her mouth go dry, and for a second, she forgot what she was going to say. All that seemed to compute was, God, he’s gorgeous.

  As she watched, Nathan leaned over to blow across her burning skin. Goose bumps erupted across her back, and the base of her spine tingled. If Nathan noticed her reaction, he didn’t give any indication as he placed folded pieces of gauze over the cut.

  “I think you’re going to survive. But it was touch and go there for a while.”

  Again, he worked efficiently to bandage her, but she felt his fingers drifting, his skin rough against her smooth skin.

  “Do you have any clotters to stop the bleeding?”

  “No. I’ve got some painkillers.”

  His careful tone and the slight draw of his brows told Remy what might be street common in her time wasn’t quite as universal now. She made a mental note. No blood clotters. That meant being a little more cautious than she would normally.

  “Painkillers are great.”

  “Where else are you hurt?”

  “My leg’s been bleeding since the warehouse. But since that means taking off my pants…”

  She stopped, rolling onto her side to face him. Truth be told, she was ready to strip out of the rest of her clothes right then. His fingertips had scalded everywhere they’d touched. Her pussy was slick with want, and it had been too long since she’d felt free enough to admit to an honest physical attraction, at least to herself. That kind of need made a person vulnerable, a reaction she couldn’t afford. It let people in, and once there, wreak all kinds of damage. But the urge to feel his arms around her, in passion this time rather than restraint, almost had her reaching out for him.

  But only almost. Because regardless of what she might crave, he was still a relative stranger. And she wasn’t a complete idiot.

  Hesitating for only a moment, Nathan nodded. His gaze was drawn to her hands as she unzipped her cargoes to reveal the black outline of her briefs on her smooth, white thighs. He hooked his fingers around the waistband, pulling the stiff cloth down to her knees, his knuckles skimming over her skin. His impassive mask slipped, and now unmistakable hunger marked his face.

  “Turn on your stomach.” Once she faced the ugly green of the couch again, he began washing the blood away from the scrape. “It’s not that bad,” he added, his words even. “You’re missing a bit of skin, but it’ll be fine.”

  His fingertips danced across her thigh, first one side, then the other. Every fiery contact went straight to her pussy, but not once did he stray from attending her wounds. Remy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from clenching muscles he would be able to see. If he could play it cool, so could she.

  “So…” She glanced back to look at him, her hair slipping away to expose bare skin. “…you never told me what it is you do.”

  “I’m a bounty hunter.”

  In spite of the heat pouring off his fingers, everything inside Remy froze. A bounty hunter. Someone who didn’t give a shit one way or another about anybody but himself. Someone who took money to go after people like her.

  Someone Kirsten could buy without blinking an eye.

  She almost fell off the couch as she scrambled for her clothes, her pants slipping through her suddenly clumsy fingers as she tried to put as much distance between her and Nathan as possible. “I can’t believe I fell for it,” she said, trying to find the bottom of her shirt to get it back on.

  Nathan grabbed her wrist before she could get far, but he didn’t pull himself to his feet. His firm grip didn’t give her a lot of options, but she still struggled to pull away. “Fell for what? Is this about those coins? I already told you I don’t really care.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to argue how she was sure a wad of cash might change his mind, but Remy stopped herself in time. The less he knew about her, the safer she was from getting turned in. And the truth of the matter was, he already knew she was on the run. If he wanted to use that to his advantage, he’d had plenty of chances long before bringing her to his apartment.

  Plus, Kirsten wasn’t here. If Remy really had traveled back in time like she thought, there was nobody alive who cared one way or another about her.

  Her gaze flickered to the strong fingers gripping her wrist. Maybe Nathan didn’t care, but he wasn’t indifferent to her either. He was tending to her injuries. He’d practically insisted.

  And he was still holding her.

  “If you don’t care, then why are you helping me?”

  Nathan tilted his head, regarding her for a long beat before he finally answered. “Because you needed my help.”

  His direct response took her by surprise, and her mouth twitched in amusement. “
Your Mustang’s not exactly white.”

  Nathan shrugged. “Neither’s my hat. But I couldn’t have left you alone in that district. Tian might not have been interested, but Cesar would have started circling like any predator smelling blood. Speaking of blood.” He looked pointedly at her thigh. “Are you going to let me finish?”

  Remy glanced down at the cut only half-cleaned and tossed her clothes aside. Stretching back onto the couch, she propped her upper body up on her elbows as soon as Nathan let her go in order to watch him work. “You’ve got good hands.”

  He glanced at her briefly, something like a smile in his eyes, before diverting his attention back to her leg. “Thanks. I’ve had years of practice.”

  The antiseptic stung just as much on her leg as it had on her back, but Remy refused to look away this time, too absorbed in the strong sculpture of his face and the almost caressing dance of his fingers to break the spell. “Guess that means I’m holding aces then. I don’t suppose you take personal requests?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted as he tossed the cotton ball aside. “It depends.” He dug through the box for more bandages and a small, yellow tube. “There is a basic standard of service I aspire to, but I do aim to please.”

  “Maybe you should tell me what to expect then,” Remy dared. “’Cause the rate you’re going, a girl could think she could spend the night if she wanted.”

  “Do you want to spend the night?”

  She decided to be honest. “I don’t have anyplace else to go.”

  Nathan spread a clear gel over the cut and reached for a bandage. “You know, that’s actually not the worst excuse a girl has used to stay at my place.”

  “Should’ve known a guy like you would have ’em lined up around the block. Which means I’m even luckier for falling into your lap like this.” It was impossible to resist a quick glance at his crotch, and her mouth went dry at the clear outline of his cock. “A very nice lap.”

  Nathan snorted. “I wouldn’t say lining up around the block. In fact…” He stopped, offered her a quick smile, and refocused on his task. “But you are welcome to stay tonight. Maybe after some sleep, we’ll be able to figure out what the hell is going on.”

  “Thanks.” It was a relief to have one less thing to worry about. And maybe the light of day would reveal everything to be either a figment of her imagination or give her new perspective on this whole time travel business. She waited until he’d reverted his attention back to the last of the bandages before adding, “Something tells me I’m either not going to sleep much, or I’m going to have the dreams of the century. One of the two.”

  “For what it’s worth, I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep myself,” Nathan said under his breath.

  He pressed the last piece of tape down along the edge of the bandage, his fingers straying to the bordering skin. Remy suppressed the shiver his touch elicited, but hiding her soft gasp was unavoidable.

  “Is it tender?” he asked, not pulling his fingers away.

  She swallowed. “That’s one word for it.”

  Nathan lingered for another moment before breaking the contact. “They weren’t too deep. You should feel better in the morning.” The words sounded forced, like it took great effort for him to speak.

  Without the excuse of first aid, she felt more than a little exposed lying on the couch in front of him. Normally, she had no problem with her sexuality, but he’d done nothing more than remain friendly with her, maybe flirt a little back when she’d deliberately baited him. He was being a gentleman, and no matter how attracted she was, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to do with that.

  “What about you?” Swinging her legs over, she sat up on the edge of the couch, reaching out at the same time to skim over a cut on his temple. “You’re not the only one with a bedside manner, you know.”

  Touching his forehead, he pushed himself to his feet. “I’m fine, thank you.” After a moment of hesitation, he leaned forward and cupped her cheek. He brushed his thumb across her mouth before dropping his head and touching her lips with his.

  All the air sucked from her lungs as he surprised her with the kiss. It wasn’t hungry, and it wasn’t aggressive, and he didn’t even part his lips to pursue deepening the caress, but it still charged through her like a jolt of electricity, his hot breath washing over her cheek as his mouth worked along hers. It still left rampant images of how his sweaty body would feel against hers, how long and hard he would be and how pliantly she could mold around him. It still brought a whimper to the back of her throat.

  The moment she reached to satisfy even one of her racing wants, though, Nathan pulled away. His breathing was ragged, his pupils blown with desire, and Remy was transfixed by the sight of his tongue finally darting out to lick across his lower lip, as if chasing the taste of her.

  “You win,” she said. “Your bedside manner is definitely better than mine.”

  Nathan backed away from the couch and gestured toward the plastic bag. “You can help yourself, if you’re hungry. Get some rest.” Each word carried him further away, until he was nearly out of the room entirely.

  Her mouth slanted into a soft smile before she leaned over to retrieve the T-shirt he’d left for her to sleep in. “I think that might actually happen now. Thanks. Again.” By the time she’d pulled the shirt over her head, he was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Nathan awkwardly stripped off his clothes, desperate to get out of the tight, sweat-soaked pants. His mind was a mess of incoherent thoughts and vivid images of Remy’s nearly naked, ready, willing body, and he could still taste her soft lips, still smell her sweat, her hair.

  Nathan stepped into the shower, welcoming the hot frenzy of water against his skin. Basking under the spray for a moment, he reached for the soap with shaking hands, working up a desperate lather. He let the bar slip from his fingers, then ran his hands over his chest, the back of his neck, his arms, and his thighs before finally wrapping his slick fingers around his erection, with a sigh of mingled relief and regret.

  What was he doing jacking off in the shower? What the fuck was he doing? She wanted him. She wanted him, and he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just kiss her. Nathan moaned. What was keeping him in the bathroom when every cell in his body was calling for hers?

  From the first good look he had of her, Nathan had been attracted to Remy. No, before that. He wanted her as soon as he pushed her against the wall and pressed his body against hers. In his defense, he imagined a dead, blind, gay man would be physically attracted to her. Even when she had her episode in the gas station and insisted her fake identification was real. So, she was a little weird. Maybe a little insane. Nathan didn’t know. All he knew was that the heat of her skin had made his head spin, and when he kissed her…he just wanted to taste her again.

  When had a girl affected him like this? Ever? He had barely touched her, and yet, the arousal was something bone deep, excruciating and sweet and very heady. The sort of agony that both needed to end and be pleasantly prolonged. Remy would be good. He knew it.

  But she was probably crazy. Delusional. And her insanity was contagious because he was not the sort to pick up strange girls, bring them home, and kiss them like a nervous teen on his prom date. And he wasn’t the type to leave the girl and jack off in the shower.

  Nathan pushed those thoughts out of his mind. They were important thoughts he should consider very carefully. In the morning. Right now, the only thing he wanted to consider was the friction of her body moving against his, her soft, soft lips against his mouth, against his skin.

  Why am I in here? Why aren’t I out there? Why aren’t I inside her right now?

  Fair questions, all. The answer was not simple. So, she was crazy? So what. Weird? Not a problem. Violent tendencies? He’d ignore them. But she was confused, and for a moment, she had been frightened of him. If he left the shower right now and went to her still wet, still hard, she wouldn’t turn him down. But he didn’t know if she wanted him, o
r if she wanted to thank him, or if she wanted to placate him, or bribe him. Or rob and kill him, which he was obliged to accept as a possibility.

  Still, Nathan knew how she’d fit around him, how she’d wrap her body around his. He sensed something primal about her, something a little feral. He imagined her shouting his name, imagined her tight muscles clenching around him, her pulse pounding against his lips as he pressed his mouth to her neck. Nathan even felt her come against his body, pulsating heat around his shaft.

  The vivid image, so intense he couldn’t help but wonder if it had already happened, pushed him over the edge. The bittersweet orgasm rushed through him. It was enough to take the edge off, but she was still mostly naked on his couch, and he was still hard for her.

  Sighing, he rested his head against the cool tile and let the water pound against his back. At least he could think now. Did she have any idea how much, possibly misplaced, self-control it took for him to walk away from her? Did she even care?

  Even if she wasn’t injured, she could still be crazy.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  He’d start by finishing his shower. Nathan soaped his body and hair, his mind far from his task. First, he needed to figure out just who this girl was. That should be easy enough if she wasn’t giving him a fake name. Next, he would find out where she belonged and who was chasing her. Letting her crash on his couch indefinitely was not an option. Finally, he might have to drag her to the hospital against her wishes, because if he couldn’t figure out who she was, where she belonged, or who she was running from, then she could be somebody else’s responsibility.

  Nathan rinsed the suds away, watching them fall from his skin and swirl down the drain.

  Remy wasn’t even his biggest problem.

  Tian had escaped again, but not unscathed. The knife had done serious damage to his shoulder, and he would want a bit of revenge. An eye for an eye, that’s how it always worked. And Tian wasn’t some punk off the streets. He had fifty grand on his head, and with this most recent failure, the reward would almost certainly go up in an effort to attract every bounty hunter on the West Coast.