Nobody's Hero

by Kallypso Masters

  Fine. Only she wasn’t fine and he needed to find out what was going on. He motioned for her to have a seat on the couch and picked up the beer bottle he’d been drinking from when she arrived. Jesús, he needed to get buzzed. Having Savi so close again, without anyone around… He needed to dull every sense he could, especially the throbbing in his dick.

  “Who hit you?”

  Savi slowly lifted the can to her lips and tipped it back, drinking long and slow. Stalling, no doubt. Finally, she lowered the can and stared at it, tracing a worse-for-wear pink-polished fingernail around the rim. He let the silence swell until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Was it your husband?”

  She looked up, her brows furrowed, then shook her head. “I’m not married.”

  Divorced or never married? He didn’t want to get too personal, but there was the matter of getting her injuries checked out.

  “I have a friend who was a corpsman—a medic—in Iraq. Will you let him check your injuries?”

  She squared her shoulders, ready to do battle. “What injuries?”

  “Well, there’s the black eye, swelling, and bruising on your face. And you’ve been favoring your left side. Did he hit you there, too?”

  She sagged into the couch a bit. “It’s nothing.”

  “Let my friend be the judge of that.”

  “I’m not leaving Mari.”

  “Who said anything about leaving? He’ll come over here if I ask him.”

  “No. The fewer people who know I’m here, the better.”

  “Who are you running from, Savannah?” Maybe if he used the name she didn’t want to connect with anymore, he could get her to show some emotion other than fear.

  Savi’s blue eyes flashed. “I told you not to call me that.”

  Bingo. Now she was angry. He liked seeing that emotion better. “I liked your hair better blonde. Why did you change it?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Hey, chica, you just showed up on my doorstep out of nowhere, beaten up and on the run. You’re the one who asked me for help. Don’t get all defensive with me. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here.”

  He took a long draw on his beer, draining the bottle, then lowered the bottle to his lap—hopefully obscuring his hard-on—and stared at her. After a moment, she reached up and twirled the end of a curl. Dios, her hair looked so soft.

  “I felt safer changing my appearance.”

  Well, he’d expected her to respond that she’d just felt like it or got tired of dumb-blonde jokes or something. Her response indicated she’d been on the run or trying to hide from someone for some time, because she’d been a brunette a month ago when he’d first seen her again. Now a redhead.

  “Marisol’s father?”

  Her hand froze and she looked up at him again, studying his face for some time. “What about him?”

  “Is he the one who roughed you up and sent you running?”

  Her body relaxed into the couch and she took another swig of the soda. “No. He’s been out of my…out of the picture from day one.”

  Damn. She’d had to raise her daughter on her own. That was rough.

  He was dying to ask if it was her Sugar Daddy, the man who’d told him never to put his hands on her again, but playing twenty questions wasn’t going to get him anywhere. She wasn’t going to answer even direct questions.

  “Let me see where you’re hurt.”

  She grew tense again, but didn’t make eye contact. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit.” When she looked up at him again, he held her gaze. “Your choice—me or my friend. Which will it be?”

  She shot daggers at him for a moment, but he didn’t back down. Leaning forward, wincing at the pain, she laid the can on top of an automotive magazine on the coffee table and sat back against the couch.

  “It’s nothing. Really. Just a bruise.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. I have some…expertise with bruising. Remove your jacket.”

  After a few seconds, she raised a shaking hand and unhooked the belt of her hip-length jacket. Her hands continued to shake as she reached up to undo the top button.

  “I haven’t ever hurt you, Savannah. Have I?”

  He couldn’t read her expression. Hell, that was supposed to be an easy question. Why was he no longer certain of her response? What had he ever done to hurt her? She was the one who refused to have anything to do with him after their perfect fucking day at the beach.

  Cool it, man. Give her time.

  When she finished unbuttoning the coat, she peeled it off, revealing a cobalt blue blouse. More buttons. He wanted to reach out and unbutton them himself, letting his fingers graze against the tops of her breasts, but instead she leaned against the back of the couch and lifted the tail of her shirt. He caught a glimpse of black and blue marks along her ribcage. All carnal thoughts left his head.

  “Lie down.”

  “No!” She took a deep breath and stood up. “I’d rather stand.”

  He stood, as well, and leaned closer, reaching out his hand. While he didn’t touch the bruising at first, she gasped when his fingers made contact with her for the first time in more than eight years.

  Get a grip, man. And not on Savannah.

  The bruising appeared to be two or three days old, tops, given the still-dark color. Her skin was so white, though, that it was hard to tell. There didn’t seem to be much swelling, but how was he to know if there was some kind of internal injury or a broken rib? This wasn’t an impact area he played with, either, so he didn’t really know what the danger signs were.

  “I need to ask Doc what to do.”

  With Savan—Savi, he’d learned not to ask, just do it. He pulled out his phone and hit Marc’s speed-dial. He answered after three rings, sounding sleepy. “Sorry to wake you, man, but I need your help.”

  “Shoot.”

  “A friend of mine has been in…some kind of fight and she has some bruising over her ribs.”

  “Getting a little rough with the subs, Damián?”

  “Man, this is serious. It’s not from impact play. She’s been punched by a fist, it looks like. Under her breast. Where the ribs are. It’s still dark in color. Happened at least two days ago.” He looked up at Savi, who nodded in agreement.

  His friend went into Corpsman mode. “Could be some internal bleeding, fractured rib, or other problems. You should have her checked out at the ER.”

  “Can’t do that. What’s plan B? What can I do?”

  “Starting tomorrow, you could apply some heat to the bruises. That’ll speed up the healing. Ice wouldn’t be much help this long after the injury. That should have been done right away. Ask her to take a couple deep breaths and see how much pain it causes. If she can’t fill her lungs, then get her to the ER whether she wants to go or not, because it could be something serious.”

  “Hold on.” Damián lowered the phone. “Take some deep breaths. Really fill your lungs.”

  She tried to do as he told her, but he heard the catch in her breath as she winced slightly. He put the phone to his ear again. “Might be a problem with her breathing, Doc.”

  Savi stood taller. "No, there isn't. I'm fine"

  Damián stared at her. Why wouldn't she admit she was in pain?

  “You still there, Damián?"

  "Shoot."

  "Now, I want you to press on her sternum.”

  “I didn’t take anatomy, Doc.”

  Marc laughed. “Her breastbone—the bone right between her breasts.”

  Damián looked at her chest. Oh, yeah, like she’s going to let me do this. “If you press there and she experiences a sharp pain, it could mean a fractured rib. Just take the heel of your hand and press there—not too hard. Support her back. You’ll know right away if there’s a problem.”

  Oh, there was a problem, all right.

  “Be right back.” Damián laid the phone on the coffee table and moved closer to Savi. “I need to check for a
broken rib. Just try and relax.”

  She took a step back. Yeah, that’s what I figured. “Hold still, querida.” He maintained eye contact with her. Though he knew she was afraid, she seemed to do a good job of keeping the emotion out of her eyes. She almost went into some kind of emotional shut-down, her gaze becoming empty. Dead.

  Damián placed his left hand in the middle of her back and his right one between her breasts and felt the bone. He’d never really thought much before about there being a bone there. He pressed firmly. No response, well, except for his dick which probably was as hard as her breastbone right now. At least nothing seemed to be broken. With reluctance, he let her go, but she continued to stare into space.

  “Savi? Look at me.” She blinked and turned toward him. “Where’d you go?”

  “Go? I didn’t go anywhere. Just check for the broken rib and get it over with.”

  What the fuck? He’d known women to go into subspace and block out parts of a really intense scene, but how the hell had she shut her mind down so completely like that in the space of seconds? When he touched a woman, she usually remembered. Hell, maybe he’d just see if he could get a response from her this time.

  He placed his hand at the small of her back again. She jumped.

  “Wait. I’m not ready yet.”

  “You don’t have to get ready for anything. Just look at me, querida.”

  Her eyes scrunched up in distress. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.” She did as he instructed and relaxed by small degrees. “Good g…good.” Better not freak her out with words like good girl.

  He laid his hand on her chest again and this time felt her heart beating wildly. She drew another breath, sharper this time. “Just relax. I’m going to press here, but tell me if it starts to hurt.”

  He applied even less pressure than he had before and she cried out in pain. Fuck. He let her go. Why hadn’t she felt the pain before? Shit. Did that mean she had a broken rib? Suddenly, he remembered the phone and picked it up.

  “Doc? You still there?”

  “Yeah. I was about to disconnect, figuring one thing was about to lead to another until I heard that scream. I think you'd better get her to the ER, Damián. They need to check for internal injuries and they can probably give her something for pain.”

  “We have a couple problems with that. One is that we need a babysitter.”

  Savi held up her hand. “No! I’m not going anywhere and even if I did, I’m not leaving Mari with strangers.”

  “Doc, do you have any friends who can provide a medical assessment without leaving a paper trail?”

  “What the hell is going on there?”

  “I haven’t a fucking clue, but it’s the only way I’m going to get her to cooperate.”

  “Let me call a friend and see if he’ll open up his clinic tonight for you to take her there. But as soon as you find out what’s going on, I want a full report. This had better not be anything illegal, either.”

  “No, nothing like that. Just call me back PDQ.”

  He disconnected the phone and just stared at Savi. “He’s going to try and find someone to take a look at that rib. Do you want to lie down with Mari and rest a little?”

  “No. It hurts too much to lie down. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fucking fine, Savi.”

  She cringed at his tone and he knew he needed to cool it, but if she said everything was fine one more time, he’d…scream. Damn it. What was going on here?

  “Who are you running from? Who did this to you?”

  No hesitation this time.

  “My father.” She held her hand over her stomach as if the words had made her nauseous.

  “What?” What kind of father would…aw, hell. After Teresa, he didn’t have to ask what fathers could do to daughters.

  “He tried to take Mari from me. I guess he saw me on the news footage from Julio’s arrest and tracked me down after all these years.”

  News footage? Damián hadn’t even known there were media there. But Savi and Teresa had been outside while he’d given his police report.

  “I can’t let him anywhere near her. That’s why I came to you.”

  Damián was still reeling from the shocker that her father had beaten her like this, but had no clue what had made her trust him.

  “The way you took care of Teresa. The way you were ready to kill Julio. We need that kind of protection right now. Will you help us?”

  * * *

  Adam placed the box under the tree. Thank God the jeweler also did gift wrapping, because the job he’d done on the other box was pretty pitiful. He’d let Karla sleep in, since he’d had her up half the night, chained to the bed. He hadn’t gotten rough with her, even though she’d goaded him to a few times, so far he’d managed to retain the upper hand on her brattiness.

  His dick got hard just thinking about her bright pink ass.

  He looked out the picture window at the snow falling softly. A deer wandered up to the feeder Karla had placed out there last weekend, saying she was worried that the poor dears weren’t finding enough to eat. She had such a soft heart and probably wanted to make amends for killing one of them, he supposed.

  Soft arms wrapped around his waist. “Merry Christmas, Master Santa.”

  He chuckled and turned around to greet her sleep-riddled face. The lines of her pillow still creased her cheek. He reached up to trace the lines before grabbing her hair and pulling her head back and lowering his mouth to hers, open and waiting for him.

  His tongue delved inside and did a tango with hers as his hand skimmed over her shoulder and down to her breast. When he squeezed her swollen nipple, she gasped and pulled away. So sensitive. He smiled.

  “How’s your stomach this morning?”

  Her smile told him all he needed to know. “First time since last month that I haven’t said good morning to John before anyone else.”

  His hand covered her abdomen, still relatively flat, but he thought about the baby growing inside her and his heart filled to the point of aching. His baby. What better present could she give him? Well, becoming his wife had been even better. Now he hoped to make her his in another way. He hoped he wasn’t rushing things too quickly, and, once she was ready to commit firmly, they would have a public ceremony. But for now, this was between the two of them, and he wanted to keep it that way.

  “I’ll start the fire. Why don’t you get dressed, harem girl, and meet me here in a few?”

  Her eyes sparkled and she giggled, causing him to throb. God love her.

  He’d barely gotten the fire roaring before she was back, wearing the red harem costume, her feet bare and her Christmas-red painted toenails gleaming after the spa treatment he’d insisted she take while he went back to the jeweler’s two days ago to pick up the gift he’d ordered special made. They’d worked on it night and day, the artisan said, to finish in time. It was a work of art. He couldn’t wait for her to open the box. Well, both of them.

  Adam trailed a finger over her collar bone. “Why don’t we have our Christmas first?”

  “Wait! There’s something I need to add to the tree.”

  She went back into the bedroom and soon came out carrying the angel tree topper Joni had tucked away in the box of treasures for him. Adam’s gaze searched her eyes, seeing only love.

  “I found this in your office.”

  He nodded, too choked up to say anything.

  Karla touched the wings of the angel. “We would never have gotten together if not for Joni, so I owe her a special debt of gratitude for entrusting her Master to me. I don’t ever want to replace her—as if I ever could! But I do think she’s ready to move on now.”

  Adam nodded again, still unable to speak, but he'd gotten the same vibe since before the wedding, as if she’d accomplished her mission and needed to get on with more important things.

  The tree was only six feet tall. Because they hadn’t brought any decorations with them—except for Joni's angel—they'd simply decorated i
t with strings of popcorn and cranberries, some paper snowflake ornaments Karla made, and an old bird’s nest she’d found during one of their hikes week before last.

  He steadied her as she stood on tiptoes to place the angel carefully on top, arranging the champagne-colored skirt over the top boughs of the tree.

  “Sorry the lights didn’t work.” They’d bought some twinkle lights at the drug store when they were in town, but must have gotten an old batch.

  “No worries, Adam. She’s perfect just the way she is.”

  Connect the angel light to the tree, jarhead.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said she’s perfect the way she is.”

  “No. After that.”

  “Oh, you mean about connecting the angel to the tree, jarhead?”

  “Yeah. You could have asked more nicely.”

  “I didn’t ask, Adam.”

  “Then who…?”

  Adam looked up at the angel. It had sounded like Joni—but that would be ridiculous. If it were her… “How did you hear her?”

  “Oh, Joni has been talking to me for more than nine years.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  She giggled and felt his erection press against her butt. “From that day she told me to follow you on your walk and watch over you. To when I was in my loft apartment in New York with no clue what to do and she told me to go to you. You could help. There have been others. She sent me to you in the shower when I was in subdrop and didn’t know it.”

  “I told her to always come to me when she was in subdrop. I guess she hasn’t forgotten.”

  “She said she talks to you, too.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess so. Usually telling me I’m a jarhead and fucking clueless in not so many words.”

  “I guess she knows you can’t torture her for being a brat where she is now.”

  Adam chuckled and reached up to find the light socket on the angel and brought it together with the cord on the tree. The clear lights burst shiny and bright from boughs to angel wings, illuminating the room.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” He came back to stand behind Karla. “This ghost stuff is just between you and me. Anyone else would say we’re friggin’ nuts.”