“Don’t sweat it. She needs friends like that. I’m glad she has you.”
He fishes her keys out of his pocket and extends his hand to me. I take them and put them on the coffee table in plain sight. “Thanks. Find anything interesting in her apartment?”
“Yeah, but you’re not going to like it.”
“Let’s hear it.” I stiffen my spine and school my features. Undercover expressionless mode activated.
“He left a note there—for you. I had to turn the actual note in for evidence, but here’s what it said.”
He holds out his phone, so I take it and study the picture of the note Bitch left me at Savannah’s apartment.
You Fucking Undercover Pig—
How are my sloppy seconds? You think you can take her from me before I’ve released her? You know the rules—none of the bitches leave the club before a Devil says she can. I’ll be back to collect my property…and you’ll show the world what a piece of shit you are.
Signed,
Suck My Dick
“What a charming letter. He really missed his calling. I’m thinking he could get a high-level gig writing greeting cards.” I hand Spencer’s phone back to him, unconcerned with Butch’s insignificant threat against me. But his continued threats against Savannah do concern me because he’s already shown he will carry those out without hesitation.
“Has Savannah said anything else about Butch’s comment regarding not letting his sweet deal go?”
“No, she hasn’t talked about it at all, actually. The trauma of everything he did hit her at once. I’ve literally sat here for hours and held her while she cried it all out, reassuring her that she’s safe and I’ll keep her that way. She hasn’t mentioned anything else about his ranting and raving.”
“I don’t know what he meant.” A siren’s voice replies from the hallway behind me.
When I turn to look at her, I realize exactly how true my initial thought is. She’s freshly showered, with wet hair hanging in long, natural curls. She has a towel wrapped around her neck, partially covering her shoulders. But that’s not exactly what’s captured my attention and refuses to let me look away. One thing I didn’t consider when I suggested a shower is what she’d wear afterward. Seeing her in one of my T-shirts and a pair of my boxer briefs is fucking hotter than I ever could’ve imagined. And I can imagine a lot.
Bruised and battered or not, Savannah Fields is stunningly beautiful. So much so, she takes my breath away just looking at her.
“Okay, just checking. I’ll keep digging for additional information. I’ve issued a BOLO for him. If any of our guys sees him, he’ll go away for a long time. I brought your keys back, and I have a message from Karen. She will be calling you later so you’d better answer on the first ring, and she’s subject to stop by here at any time of the day or night to check on you.”
Savannah smiles, the appreciation for her friend warming her from the inside out. She glows with love for Karen—the one friend I’ve heard all about during our daily meetings over coffee. “Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow morning when I wake up. I’ve had a very long and painful day. I’m taking some ibuprofen and going to bed soon. Now that I’ve had a hot shower, I’ll pass right out.”
“Not until you’ve eaten first. Then I’ll tuck you in and let you sleep till noon tomorrow if you want.” I raise one eyebrow in mock challenge.
Her familiar laugh is music to my ears. “Fine. Let me rephrase. I’m eating first, then going to bed.”
Satisfied Savannah is indeed as well as she can be under the circumstances, Spencer leaves before I head to the kitchen and start cooking. Chicken alfredo is my specialty, and pasta cures anything that ails. After she finishes a plate of food, complete with garlic bread and a glass of wine, her eyes start closing on their own.
Scooping her into my arms, I carry her to the guest bedroom and tuck her into the bed. She’s out as soon as her head hits the pillow and the blankets cover her body. I watch her for a moment, sleeping peacefully after such a terrifying day, and make her a solemn vow.
“For you, I will try my damnedest to be the undercover hero you deserve.”
After making sure the front door is locked, cleaning up the kitchen, and scrolling through the channels, searching for anything that will take my mind off the horrors Savannah endured today, I finally give up and head to bed. After a quick hot shower to rinse off, I climb into my bed and stare at the ceiling until sleep finally overtakes me.
An hour later, I wake to the sensation of the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Someone is in my room, moving toward me. I curl my hands into fists, ready to tear into whoever was stupid enough to pull this stunt. I watch the dark figure move to the foot of my bed, then bump into it. A hand reaches out and feels the way around to the opposite side of the bed—a small, dainty hand. When she reaches the head of the bed, she gently pulls back the covers and gingerly slides into bed beside me. Then she moves over until she’s pressed up against me, her head finding a comfortable spot on my chest and her arm draping across my abdomen.
Within seconds, her breathing slows to an even, easy pace as she rests peacefully with my arm wrapped around her.
My breathing, however, is anything but slow and easy.
Chapter 7
Savannah
When I open my eyes after the best sleep I’ve had in years, I realize there’s a very hard body under my cheek. My eyes roam the length of that fine, chiseled body until they locate my arm. My hand is splayed out on his stomach, precariously low and definitely inappropriately placed for someone I’ve only known a couple of weeks. A man who hasn’t shown the slightest interest in kissing me, much less being molested by me in my sleep first thing in the morning.
The problem is, now that I’ve realized where my hand is resting, any sudden movement will be overtly obvious. And embarrassing. This requires delicate and deliberate extrication. Preferably before he even wakes and realizes the full magnitude of my blunder.
If I pretend to stretch, maybe?
No. I can tell without moving more than it takes to breathe that my whole body is sore—much more so than when I went to bed last night. Engaging all my muscles at once for a good, full-body stretch would be excruciating.
The longer I lie here, arguing with myself, the longer my hand rests in a dangerous location.
Then there’s the whole topic of “‘What are you doing in my bed?’ for $500, Alex.” Not that I think Nick would mind since I had awful nightmares despite being tired to the bone. Snuggling next to him kept the monster away all night. I wouldn’t have slept a wink without him after the first dream woke me.
I’m just going to make sure he’s still asleep, then gently lift my hand from his…nether regions. As easily and slowly as I can, I lift my head to look at his gorgeous sleeping face.
And find whiskey-colored amber eyes looking directly at me. Wide awake and wide open, with amusement and something else shining brightly in those golden flecks. That something else is need and desire. Oh God, definitely desire, if the involuntary rising of my hand is any indication.
“Good morning, darlin’. Sleep well?”
“Best sleep of my life. You?”
“Can’t complain. At all. Slept really, really well.”
“Guess you’re wondering how I got in here.” I smile sweetly—on purpose.
“Not at all. I watched you sneak in and crawl into bed with me.”
“Oh. Really? I had a bad dream.”
“I figured. It’s fine—I don’t mind that you came in here with me. If that’s what you wanted, all you had to do was say so.”
I feel like there’s an intentional double meaning to his offer.
Hand still rising…still rising…
Followed by awkward silence and actively searching for somewhere to set my gaze upon. Anywhere but at my hand.
Do not look at the hand.
This isn’t uncomfortable at all.
“How do you feel today?”
The sudden loss of complete silence in the room startles me, making me jump. Even though it sends pain throughout my entire body, the jolt to my system does accomplish removing my hand from his dick. At least I don’t have to make up an excuse to stop touching him now.
“Umm, really sore. Really, really sore, to be honest. It even hurts to breathe normally.”
“I’m going to take this moment to point out the obvious.” He pauses and I hold my breath, afraid of what he’ll say next. “You’re an ER nurse. You know better than anyone if you should go get checked out. My non-medical expert opinion is you should’ve let me take you to the hospital last night. But since you didn’t, I’m offering to take you now. Breathing normally shouldn’t cause you pain.”
“Here’s a little secret you may not know, Nick. Nurses are terrible patients. We hate being on the receiving end of medical care. It is better to give care than to receive care, in our expert opinion. Last night, I wasn’t mentally prepared to go to the hospital. I mean, I work there, and I don’t want my coworkers seeing me like this.”
“Savannah, I completely understand what you’re saying.” His voice is tender, understanding. That doesn’t mean I don’t hear the “but” that’s coming next. “But guys who abuse women are counting on you to hide what they do. No evidence, no crime. By hiding out and suffering through the injuries on your own, you’re actually shielding him.”
“You’re right, Nick. On one hand, you’re exactly right. On the other, the people I work with every day will think of me as being weak. They’ll ask why I’ve tolerated his behavior, they’ll question what I’ve done to deserve it. They’ll look at me differently every day for the rest of the time I work there.”
He sits up and turns his upper body to face me. “Your friends will want to help you. They may be hurt that you didn’t turn to them for help, but they will stand by your side and defend you. The backbiters who aren’t your friends can go fuck themselves. If you’re really that concerned about what others will think of you, don’t tell them about anything except this time. He’s a crazy ex, so they can keep an eye out for him. They will not blame you for this, darlin’.”
“All right.” His point is valid, and if Karen were in my situation, I’d tell her the same thing. Taking my own advice isn’t an easy pill to swallow, though.
He drags his hand down his face, releasing a long sigh between clenched teeth. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I don’t mean to push you into something you don’t want to do. Tell me what to do, from an emergency room nurse perspective. If a woman showed up, presenting with your same symptoms, would she need medical attention?”
“You play dirty, Nick.” There’s only a hint of a smile on his lips, but it fully reaches his eyes. He knows he’s won. “If she were my patient, I’d recommend she at least have X-rays of her ribs to make sure there was no danger of a broken rib puncturing a lung.”
He nods, probably expecting as much. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s at least had field medical training. Not as extensive as my training, of course, but enough to patch up a friend and get them off the battlefield when necessary. That’s what he’s trying to do with me—patch up his friend after I’ve limped off the battlefield, worse for wear.
“Do you think that patient will let me take her to have her ribs checked out now?” He cocks his head to the side before allowing that stunning smile to overtake his gorgeous face.
“Maybe…after she eats breakfast, since they won’t let her have anything once she gets there.”
“You’ve just given me a great idea. I think I have a bright future in hostage negotiations since undercover work is out of the question now. Breakfast is coming up in twenty, so you have time to get dressed while I’m cooking.”
“Just so we’re clear, I won’t forget how you twisted my arm. I will use your tactics against you one day, and you won’t have a leg to stand on. You’ll have to give in to my every whim.”
“One day?” He chuckles and stands, looking like a real-life Adonis in snug-fitting black boxer briefs…and nothing else. Chiseled chest. Trim waist. That sexy V low on his abdomen. Muscular legs. He is absolutely the full package. “Pretty sure we passed the ‘one day’ mark a while back.”
He walks off toward the kitchen, while I stay in his bed to watch him leave. Holy hell. He looks just as good from the back as he does from the front. These thoughts shouldn’t be running through my mind, and I feel guilty for even entertaining the notion there could be anything between us. All this baggage that still haunts me isn’t fair to bring into any new relationship. Although, I do have to admit, Nick handles Butch and all his bullshit better than anyone I know, myself included. The truth is, I don’t think I deserve Nick or anything he’s doing for me out of the kindness of his heart.
But the more time I spend with him, the harder I find it to think of not having him in my life.
When I hear him taking pans out of the cupboard, I reluctantly move to get out of bed. Fighting for every inch, I finally reach the side of the bed and clench my jaw before attempting to stand. I’ve managed to roll over onto my stomach, thinking incorrectly that would make it easier to slide off the bed, and every inch of my body is on fire from the short distance I just covered.
“Can I help?” Nick asks from the doorway.
In my defense, I’m not normally a constant crybaby. But I’ve cried more in front of him than anyone else in my life. Tears of frustration and pain sting my eyes because I know I can’t even get out of bed without his help. Had I not stayed with him last night, I would be in a world of trouble today.
“Okay.” I manage to mumble a reply without completely breaking.
He grabs a top sheet from the closet and folds it in half a couple of times. From the opposite side of the bed, he gently pushes as much of it underneath me as he can. “I’ll help you roll over onto the sheet—slow and easy—but tell me if anything hurts too much. Okay?”
I nod, unable to speak because of the ball of emotion that’s stuck in my throat.
With gentle hands and a reassuring tone, he helps me to roll over on my back, straightening the part of the sheet that was under me as I roll. He uses both sides of the sheet as support under my back to lift and move me to the edge of the bed. When I sit up and slide my legs off the bed, that’s also with Nick’s support. Once I’m sitting erect and the tips of my toes are touching the floor, he’s kneeling down on one knee in front of me, watching my reactions with eagle-eye precision.
“Talk to me, Savannah. Are you in a lot of pain? Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “You didn’t hurt me at all. I was just thinking I’m actually in a lot worse shape than I originally thought. If you hadn’t been here last night…if I hadn’t stayed here…”
“Don’t think like that. I’m here, and you’re here with me. We’ll do this together. You need time to heal, and you need help while you heal. I won’t leave you alone. You can stay here as long as you need to. When you’re ready to go back to your place, I’ll make sure you feel safe doing it. I won’t abandon you.” He reaches up and cups my cheek in his big hand, his natural body heat warming me inside and out.
Like a frightened puppy craving human attention, I lean into his hand and close my eyes, soaking up the connection I feel building between us every minute we’re together. Whether a relationship builds fast or slow, the pace doesn’t define its depth. This bond I feel with Nick didn’t develop immediately. We didn’t experience the whole “love at first sight” phenomenon, but my feelings are dangerously close to that. I can’t say he feels the same, but I can say I pray that he does. Or will, eventually.
And that scares me.
Straightening my spine, I inhale carefully and open my eyes, finding his still closely watching me. “That was a good idea to use the draw sheet. You have more medical experience than you admit.”
“You never know, I may have a few more tricks up my sleeve.”
“Let’s see if one of those tricks is helping me to stand. I hope once I get
up, I’ll be able to walk on my own. You never realize how much you use your abdominal muscles for every little move until you can’t use them at all.”
“Put your arms around my neck. When I stand, use me to help pull yourself up. I’ll wrap my arms around your waist to hold you steady, but I don’t want to put too much pressure on your sore areas.”
I do as he says, and at the last second, his hands slide under my behind to help push me upright. Leaning back a little, I give him a playful side-eye glance. “Did you just cop a feel on an injured and defenseless woman?”
He grins, and mischief shines in his eyes. “No more than you did when you thought I was still asleep this morning.” He waggles his eyebrows, both playfully and seductively, and I hide my face in his neck.
“Stop trying to make me laugh. It hurts!” I say, through both my laughter and pain. His deep chuckle rumbles in my ear in response.
“I took a chance that your ass wasn’t hurt as badly as your ribs are. Hopefully that was a good guess.”
“Yes, it was a great guess, and surprisingly helpful. Thank you, Nick. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”
He goes completely still, making me worry I’ve crossed an unknown line, but he doesn’t release me. There’s such a fine line between right and wrong sometimes. When I move my face from the hiding place against his neck, I pluck up the courage to meet him eye-to-eye. The expression on his face nearly shatters my heart into a million pieces.
It’s pure, unadulterated, palpable gratitude.
He searches my eyes and face, not asking the question that’s on the tip of his tongue. The one I see in his eyes, though he tries to hide it.
“I meant every word, Nick. You’re brave and you’re strong. You’re thoughtful and considerate. You take care of me and show me how to take care of myself. You’re easy to talk to but refuse to let anyone run over you. You’re funny and sweet, but serious and mean when you have to be. I don’t know one single man who would’ve done everything you’ve done for me—or even a fraction of it. You are, hands down, the best man I’ve ever known.”
Fine Line (Crossing Lines Book 1) Page 8