by C. Luca
“Now the thread,” he instructs.
A moment later, I’m carefully pushing the curved needle through his skin about a centimeter to the right of the wound. A hint of nausea rises over the sensation of pushing the needle through his flesh, but I swallow it back. I am determined to do this for him.
Kane remains completely still, his voice calm and coaxing as he talks me through the process.
When the wound is successfully closed, I carefully bandage it and then move away, sitting back and stretching the kinks out of my neck.
Kane nods his thanks. “You did good, Tessa.”
“What happens now?” I ask, referring to our situation.
He rises to his feet and begins picking up the used tools. “You go to bed,” he says simply.
I make a face at him. “I’m not tired.”
His eyes return to mine, and they’re full of steel. “You will be. Go to bed. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Tessa, go to bed,” he repeats softly.
As much as his directive stings, I also know that if I remain in the same room with him, I’ll be a distraction. Especially since I have so many questions rolling around in my head.
I nod and rise to my feet. “Night, Kane,” I murmur.
He nods and continues cleaning the bloody mess on the table.
I limp my way to the bedroom that he’d told me was mine to use, and I close the door and turn on the lamp. After climbing into the bed, a crushing weight of emotion overtakes me as my eyes sting with tears.
Focusing on helping Kane had helped distract me from the knowledge that this is all my fault.
But now that I’m alone…
Kane took a bullet because of me.
I turn my head into the pillow and cry into it, hating my leg and the fact that he’d had to carry me to safety.
Eleven
Kane
I bring over the dirty surgical instruments from the table, placing them in the kitchen sink that I’d filled with soapy water. Once everything has soaked for a while, I’ll sterilize them.
Sean had prepared this place well. I’d found plenty of cookware, and the refrigerator and freezer are well-stocked. This time, we’d had time to prepare for our arrival. The mobile home is exactly as I’d requested.
We’re also lucky that Sean had finished the preparations as quickly as he had. As for the groceries, I’d told him to keep the refrigerator stocked at all times, replacing anything that expired. We couldn’t be sure when the attempt would be made on Tessa, but we certainly didn’t want to be left scrambling when that time came.
Once the table is clean, I walk over to the sofa and sit down, exhaling loudly. My wound is aching like a bitch, but it’s nothing that a few painkillers can’t take care of.
That’s when I hear her.
Fuck.
It sounds like Tessa’s crying in her room, probably trying to muffle the sound so that I don’t hear her. After the evening we’d just dealt with, I can’t blame her for giving into her emotions. Nothing could have prepared her for tonight’s events.
She did well, though.
Hell, she held herself together better than most. Not to mention she dug the bullet out and stitched me up—all while looking pale as a ghost. I thought for sure she was going to hurl or pass out on me, but she stubbornly kept her focus.
After tonight, I have more admiration for her than I ever have before. I always knew she was special, but that inner strength she’d shown tonight just makes it all the more evident. It doesn’t matter that she’s giving into her emotions now that she’s alone. If she wasn’t upset over what had gone down, I’d definitely worry something was wrong with her.
I think back to how vulnerable she’d been in the loft stairwell, and my gut tightens. I’ve been in plenty of deadly situations with past clients, but those were a breeze compared to tonight. Yes, I care whether my clients live or die, but I’ve never had personal feelings for any of them.
That made tonight much more difficult.
When I don’t care so much about a client, I can concentrate on the job at hand, and that’s protecting their ass. But with Tessa, I’d still had that focus, but I’d also been worrying about stray bullets hitting her. All I could think about was getting her to safety, and that made the situation all the more dangerous. I need to be one hundred percent focused when bullets are flying, and I admit that worrying over her had hindered that.
I rub a tired hand over my face before pulling my phone from my pocket. There are no new texts waiting for me. My men will eventually make contact, so there’s no cause for concern—at least not yet. They’re likely busy getting rid of bodies and cleaning everything up.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath with frustration.
There were too many men coming for Tessa tonight. This tells me that whoever is after her isn’t just some lowlife criminal looking to work his way up the ladder. Whoever this guy is, he’s already up the damned ladder and perched on the fucking top rung. Or pretty close.
With as many men that came after Tessa, there’s a good chance my own couldn’t eliminate them. The plan had been for my team to take them out, and then for Tessa and I to lie low here until we knew for sure we were in the clear.
Having expectations is dangerous in this line of work, so even though it was the plan, we’ve also planned if there’s another attempt made on Tessa while we’re here. Tomorrow, I’ll have to go over with her how Sean had prepped this place for us.
I recall all the questions lurking in Tessa’s brown eyes. The last thing she’d wanted to do was go to bed, but she’d done it anyway, and I am grateful for that. After all the adrenaline and shit, I need to wind down, and I can’t do that with her around.
As my eyes wander the living room, I let my body finally relax.
Even if we had been followed, they wouldn’t try anything right away. They’ll either call in reinforcements or stakeout the place so they can plan their next move. My gut tells me that we’re in the clear temporarily, and instinct has never led me astray.
Eventually, we need them to come at us again unless one of my men was able to follow a straggler to their location. That wasn’t our top priority though, so I doubt it. That’s not really how we work. Clients come first, so it’s easier to surround our client and be there when shit hits, versus going to the enemy and leaving the client vulnerable.
For now, Tessa and I will wait. If no one followed us, one of my men will ‘accidentally’ lead them to us when the timing is ideal.
Either way, I have at least a few days or a week, maybe more, to heal from my wound.
Twelve
Tessa
When I wake the following morning, I’m completely confused as I open my eyes and see the unfamiliar room. Memories of last night rush over me, and I bite my lip as I try to control my emotions. Being ripped out of bed like I had and becoming caught in a shootout was scary. Then, there was helping Kane with his wound.
My eyes are horribly gritty from crying last night, and more tears begin to sting them.
I have so much guilt.
A shaky breath escapes me as I scrub my hands over my face, trying to stop the tears from falling. Breaking down when I was alone last night was okay, but I don’t want to continue the waterworks when I’m more concerned about Kane.
I really want to know how he’s doing this morning.
However, I make no move to climb out of the bed. Instead, I lie there, staring up at the ceiling. A dull ache is still evident within my chest, and as much as I want to see Kane, I’m still struggling with my guilty conscience.
Kane had to carry me.
Sure, it put me at risk, but it also put him at risk. He took a bullet trying to shield me. I hate that he got hurt, because I wasn’t capable of being fast or strong enough to stay on my own two feet.
My lips flatten as I struggle with my emotions.
I hate my leg.
I always have.
But after
years of adjusting to it, I’ve managed to quit resenting it. At least I thought I had until last night happened. Now, old insecurities and self-reproach are rearing their ugly heads, and I can’t hold them back.
A disgusted sound leaves my lips. I’m throwing myself a pity party, and that’s not who I am these days. I’ve worked so hard to look beyond my leg, and now all I’m doing is fixating on it.
After giving myself a mental lecture, I pull myself together, anxious to see how Kane is doing.
I ease out of the bed, wincing.
My leg hurts terribly today, but I ignore it as I limp towards the door. I’m still only wearing a tank top and shorts, but after our mad dash to safety last night, I’m feeling far from self-conscious. I know I’m in desperate need of a shower as well, but Kane comes first. I’ll shower later.
Gingerly, I make my way down the short hall and into the living room that opens up into the kitchen. I’m only a few feet into the room when I come to a sudden halt.
Kane is sitting at the kitchen table with a laptop open in front of him. He looks up, and I waver from the sight of him as my fleeting burst of confidence fades.
The scruff on his jaw is more noticeable in the morning sunlight that is sneaking past the closed blinds. His face is pale, and he looks exhausted. He’s also still shirtless, and the stark white bandage where he’d been shot is like a punch to my gut.
I’m overcome with remorse once more and tears spring to my eyes. I’m thankful that I’d been so calm last night, but now I’m an emotional mess, and I don’t know how to gain control of myself.
Kane notices, and his brows descend into a frown. “Tessa?”
Tears clog my throat, and I give up on trying to reply. Before I can embarrass myself further, I turn and quickly limp back towards my room.
Damn it. Why do I have to appear so weak in front of him? I’m almost to the doorway of my room when Kane comes up behind me, gently catching my arm.
“Whoa, hold up a minute.”
Naturally, he’d caught up to me quickly. I can’t even properly flee the room and close the door for privacy like a normal person, I think sourly to myself.
My jaw clenches as I stand there, refusing to look at him as I gaze into the room that I am desperate to escape into. Maybe he’ll be kind and allow me to collect myself without an audience.
So I say nothing, waiting for him to let me be.
“Tessa?” he says, a hint of command in the rumble of his voice.
I should have known it was wishful thinking. Feeling miserable, I reluctantly turn around to look up at him.
His hazel eyes probe mine. “Hey, talk to me.”
Much to my horror, a tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I say thickly, using the back of my knuckles to brush away the tear.
He looks puzzled, and I can see that he’s trying to figure out why I’m apologizing. “For what?”
His bare chest is right in my line of sight, but this morning, it isn’t his sexy physique that has me staring. It’s the sight of the gauze bandage that I’d placed over his wound.
My chest tightens painfully.
“Why the hell would you apologize for that?” he demands.
I look away, gazing at the nearest wall. “You had to carry me,” I say, unable to hide my shame.
“Come again?”
“My leg. You had to carry me because I’m so slow,” I say bitterly, hating that I even have to say it out loud.
“Wait—you think? Christ,” he says gruffly. “Tessa, look at me.”
“It’s fine, I get it,” I say hurriedly, anxious for the conversation to be over. “I’m fully aware that I’m…”
My chin is caught, and Kane forces me to look up at him. His eyes are blazing. “You’re what?” he asks in a low voice.
Anger begins to stir within me over his determination to prolong this misery. “Disabled,” I mutter.
His expression tightens. “Had there been any other woman in that bed, I would have still tossed them over my shoulder and carried them. It happened too fast for explanations, Tessa. Anyone would have been disoriented and tripping over their own feet had I tried pulling them behind me. Or worse, they would have frozen.” My jaw is still caught between his thumb and forefinger as he gazes down at me. “Tessa, disabled is the very last word I would ever use to describe you.”
I’m momentarily lost in his gaze, butterflies fluttering in my lower belly. All the mortification and shame I’d been feeling moments ago has faded over his close proximity. With him mere inches from me, it’s impossible to focus on anything other than him. I nervously wet my dry lips, uncertain as to where this conversation is leading.
Kane’s eyes automatically drop to my lips. “Fuck,” he whispers before his lips cover mine.
My eyes widen with shock before instinctively closing as his warm lips press against mine, his velvety tongue demanding for me to open. My lips part as I feel the sensation of his whiskers along the sensitive skin of my mouth, and it makes my toes want to curl.
His tongue smoothly finds mine, and with a soft moan, I lean into him, one of my hands pressing against his bare chest. His skin is hot and smooth, and I can feel muscle beneath.
He’s so incredibly sexy.
Kane is still gripping my jaw, but only lightly as his tongue dances with mine. He’s clearly experienced as he leads the kiss, and I eagerly follow his direction while feeling wetness developing between my legs.
His tongue strokes and curves around mine, and I’m beyond lost to how good it feels.
Then, it’s over all too soon, and Kane gently ends the kiss. He rests his forehead against mine as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he repeats, his voice sounding husky but also tinged with exhaustion.
I draw in a deep breath, head still spinning from the passionate kiss, but the tiredness in his voice gives me something to concentrate on. “You need to get some sleep,” I tell him softly.
Kane pulls back and scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m fine.”
Stubborn man.
I gaze up at him and arch an eyebrow. “Then you think you can manage staying up all night again on top of no sleep?”
Frustration flickers across his features when he realizes that I’m right.
“Go. If something remotely suspicious happens, I’ll wake you,” I assure.
He’s silent a long moment before giving in and nodding. For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he changes his mind.
I watch as he turns and heads to his own room, closing the door.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I wilt against the wall in the hallway and touch my still damp lips. I remain there, reeling from the kiss. It was by far the best thing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t regret it, but I also know it’s going to make things awkward from here on out.
I’m not sure what triggered him to initiate the kiss, but I’m not foolish enough to believe that he actually wants me. Maybe the lack of sleep had something to do with it.
My brows furrow.
Kane seems to be in full control of himself at all times, I can’t imagine fatigue causing him to act rashly.
Honestly, I don’t know why the kiss happened, but I also know better than to dwell over it. Of course, trying to forget it is going to be difficult. Now, every time I look at him, it’s all I’m going to think about.
I groan softly and drop my head into my hands.
How can a humiliating conversation lead to a kiss like that? There’s no making sense of it, so I let my hands fall from my face and head for the living room.
I need a distraction.
Thirteen
Kane
The first thing that comes to mind upon waking is the kiss that I’d shared with Tessa. I hadn’t been able to resist those beautiful eyes filled with tears.
Hell, she’d called herself disabled. That was the first thing that had set me off.
Fuck that.
Her limp is a part of who she is—she’s simpl
y Tessa to me. I don’t look at her and think of labels. Nor should she view herself in that way.
I run a hand over my jaw as I recall how her small, pink tongue had peeked out to dampen her lips. That innocent action is what began this mess that I’m finding myself in. Add in those big eyes and spiky lashes from her tears…
Who the hell would have thought I’d be a goner for tears? I usually have no patience for that stuff, but when it’s Tessa…
It’d also been clear that she’s never been kissed, but damned if that isn’t a turn on for me. Everything about her seems to be, and I hadn’t been able to control myself.
My only intention during that conversation was to take away her pain and guilt. Instead, I’d selfishly acted upon my desire for her. I have no idea how I’m going to handle the fallout from my mindless action.
She’s too young, too innocent…
Yet I’d like nothing more than to prove to her that she’s sexy as hell. There is not a damned thing wrong with her.
I stare up at the ceiling with frustration.
It’s imperative that I keep things strictly professional. The close call at the loft had already proven that.
For the first time, I become aware of the scent of…chicken? I have no idea what Sean had stocked the refrigerator and freezer with, but a delicious aroma is infiltrating the room.
Promptly, as if on cue, my stomach rumbles loudly.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, wincing as the stitches pull around the wound on my ribs. When I see the time, I realize that I’d slept for several hours. Tessa’s likely going crazy with all the many questions that she’s been waiting to ask.
I ease out of bed, grimacing.
It’s not the first time I’ve been shot, but it still doesn’t feel all that great. I also need a shower, but it’ll have to wait. After the kiss earlier, there’s damage control that needs to be done. Plus, after overhearing Tessa crying last night, I want to see where her head is at and make certain she’s doing okay. She’s been through a lot in a very short amount of time.