“Oh god that feels so good.” She practically moaned and then heard Fisher clear his throat.
What she would do for a razor. But then she couldn’t exactly groom herself anyway and certainly she would not allow these men to see she more than likely needed grooming.
She gulped and Flynn told her to keep her eyes and mouth closed before he poured the cup of water over her hair. He did it a few more times, getting all the soap out, and her mind wondered.
Who were these men? How come Silas trusted them? How could they be protectors, bodyguards of some sort, yet be compassionate like this?
They looked so mean, showed little emotion, yet cared for her. Silas or Dmitri were probably paying them big time.
The thought made her feel like shit. That had to be it. Knowing a little bit about Dmitri Sanclare, the man knew how to get people to do whatever it was he wanted.
“Do you want to try and stand up on your own while Flynn holds the towel up?” Fisher asked as Flynn stood up and dried his hands on the towel.
“I’ll try.”
Flynn held the towel up and India attempted to sit up. She went to reach back to squeeze her hair and grunted.
“I’ll help you,” Fisher said.
“Close your eyes,” she told him.
“What?”
“You heard me. Close your eyes please,” she repeated.
“How the hell am I supposed to see where I’m reaching to help?”
“I’ll direct you. Go slowly,” she said and then he reached out and down.
But as he began to lift her up out of the water, she moaned and he opened his eyes and so did Flynn. Flynn wrapped her in the towel and set her feet down.
* * * *
Fisher didn’t know what to do. His eyes zeroed in on a huge pair of breasts, bruises and welts galore all the way to her groin and upper thighs. He prayed that India hadn’t been raped, but that wasn’t in the report he had gotten.
Flynn wrapped her up and Fisher gathered himself together and squeezed out her hair for her.
She looked so exhausted.
“I think we should get you warmed up and back to bed,” he told her.
“I need to take care of something first. Could you wait out there?” she asked.
He looked at Flynn, who was definitely concerned about leaving her, but the woman needed to use the toilet.
“You call out if you need us,” he said, and he and Flynn walked out of the room.
The moment the door closed, Fisher looked at Flynn.
“I hope Silas kills the fuckers who did that to her.”
“Me, too,” he replied, feeling too many emotions to analyze at the moment. Silas’s sister had one hell of a body on her. His entire thought about being professional went out the window the second he saw her body. India was exceptional. From her bright blue eyes and platinum hair, to her incredibly large breasts, she was perfection. His eyes never made it lower. His concern for her well-being ran precedence but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was one sexy woman. He also couldn’t explain the sensations he had and an instant attraction to the woman.
But he had to remind himself of whom she was, why she was here, and the fact that some dick mobster messed her up to send a message to her friend. That really pissed him off. He heard India call out to say she was finished.
Fisher glanced at Flynn. Completely lost in thought, he’d actually forgotten that his friend was there. Flynn’s expression was blank.
Fisher opened the door and there was India.
She looked so sad and she held onto the counter with her head down.
“India, is everything okay?” Fisher asked her.
“Now I know why you’ve all been looking at me so strangely. I look like a monster,” she said and then he heard the sniffles.
“Come on now. We haven’t been looking at you strangely,” Fisher said as he scooped her up into his arms.
“It’s bruising, India. It will heal in no time,” Flynn added.
But she turned her face into Fisher’s chest and didn’t look back at him. When he laid her on the bed, she pulled the towel tight and snuggled into the pillow.
“You’ll need to get dressed and we should dry your hair,” Flynn told her and placed a clean pair of lounge pants in purple along with a button-down blouse that matched, onto the bed.
She shook her head.
“India, we’ll help you,” Fisher told her.
“Just leave it there. I’ll do it.”
Fisher reached over and placed his fingers under her chin. “Hey, listen to me. Flynn is right and those bruises will heal in no time. It’s important that we keep you well and that you stay safe and warm. You also need some food. You have to be starving.”
She looked like she thought about that for a second.
“I am starving,” she murmured in a whisper.
“Good, then Flynn will make you a plate after we help you get dressed. Come on now, trooper,” he teased and helped her to sit up on the edge of the bed.
“Now, let’s see how we can do this,” Fisher said as Flynn offered him the button-down blouse.
She reached for it and cringed but pushed to try and do it herself. She attempted one arm and got it in. But then the towel started to fall away from her breasts and she went to grab it and most of one breast popped out. He helped her quickly cover herself, his heart hammering in his chest.
“Damn it this is crazy,” she said in frustration.
“It’s okay,” Flynn added as he began buttoning the blouse before Fisher had a chance to do it. He couldn’t help but want to be close to her and brush his fingers over her skin by accident as he buttoned the blouse. Instead it seemed his buddy Flynn was thinking the same thing.
Fisher grabbed the lounge pants and bent down on the rug and lifted her one foot into the leg of the pants. He let his hand slide along her small, silky calf and he locked gazes with her. She was feminine, sweet, and very needy right now. He was turned on by the fact that she needed him and that she was so petite in comparison to him and Flynn.
He placed her other foot into the other pant leg and then reached for her hips.
“Stand up nice and slowly.” She cringed again but did it and he slid his hands down her thighs to the pants and pulled them up, letting his hands linger on her hips as she stood up. He fixed the outfit for her and then helped her sit down again.
“Okay, now the hair. Flynn will grab you a plate of food for dinner.”
“The pain in my ribs is getting worse. I don’t feel good,” she whispered as she held onto his arms. Her eyes closed and she swayed a little.
“Just lie down and rest.”
“I’ll grab the painkillers and a water,” Flynn said.
“No. No, don’t. I can’t sleep every day away. I need to clear my head. I’ll deal with the pain.”
Fisher placed his hands on his hips. “No, you’ll take the pill after you eat and you’ll rest. This is the first time you’ve been up and about. You’re exhausted.”
She mumbled something under her breath as she snuggled deeper into the pillow and he had a giddy, silly feeling inside. He looked at Flynn, and Flynn shook his head as if in annoyance with India not wanting the painkillers.
Flynn left the room and Fisher stared at her. He didn’t think twice as he left to grab the hair dryer then returned to dry her hair. The poor woman was so tired that she never even stirred. He was lost in thought a he ran his fingers through her silky platinum-blonde hair. Drying the damp tendrils had caused a mix of emotions inside of him. He ran his fingers through her hair even after her hair was fully dry. The scent of her encased the room and of course the king-size bed she lay upon.
He turned off the dryer the moment he realized how lost in thought he had been over her beauty, her enticing body, and the need to learn more about her.
He wrapped the cord around the dryer and heard the floor creak. Looking up, he caught sight of Ford and Flynn. Flynn was holding a plate of food.
&nbs
p; “I think she overdid it, but at least she’s showered and feels clean.” He stood up and walked the dryer to the desk and placed it down.
“You dried her hair?” Flynn asked, sounding shocked.
Was it something too personal, too humane for a man like him to be caught doing?
“It was soaked. The last thing she needs is to get sick now, too,” he countered and Ford raised one eyebrow at him.
“Did she take any meds?” Ford asked.
“No. She should be eating right now but look at her. She probably won’t wake up until tomorrow,” he added and then Fisher left the room, leaving Flynn and Ford there looking at India and probably wondering what the hell had gotten into him.
As Fisher headed downstairs, he ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. What the fuck did get into me?
He wasn’t a prick bastard despite what his buddies obviously thought. He couldn’t let her feel cold or get sick. She was their responsibility.
As the thought went through his mind, his body tightened up. He felt that instant possessive and protective sensation fill him.
Oh hell, I’m attracted to her. This has never happened before. Fuck, what am I going to do? What are the others thinking?
As he descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen to make himself a plate of food, a thought entered his mind. They all had been acting funny, different since India’s arrival. Fenton was being a bigger asshole than usual, Flynn was quieter and would stare at India as if trying to read her mind, and Grey was hurrying home from work every shift to check on India and sit with her even when she was sleeping. Then there was Ford, who was becoming obsessed with her schedule, her medication log, and her overall well-being.
This was different. Something was going on here. Something was changing. The place felt different. Could it be as simple as having a woman in their home? How could one woman affect an entire household like this?
He suddenly thought how nice it could be to have a woman around. Not one just wanting them for their ménage playing or to fuck a soldier with big dicks. No, like a real woman. One who was soft, feminine, and deserved pampering, protection, and love.
Love? What the fuck?
He shoved away from the counter and felt panicked. He never thought about commitment to one woman or about settling down with one. They had friends in town and elsewhere that shared one woman and were committed, but he and his team were so fucked up. They had issues. Deep, dark, anger issues, and no woman would be interested in their scars and fucked-up way of thinking. No woman could heal them or make them feel alive, content in civilian life, and also give them a similar adrenaline rush that danger in general gave them.
No, he was losing his fucking mind and he better snap out of it before the others pick up on it, too. They’d really rub it in. Him falling for someone they were supposed to protect, not have sex with.
The thought that India was in danger pulled at something deeper than a verbal understanding between all of them and India’s brother Silas. No, this was different, and until he figured it out, he was going to keep his mouth shut and just do his job. Even if it killed him.
Chapter 4
India felt embarrassed and she really wished that she could talk to Aspen. She was her best friend, and now that her head was clearing, she worried that Aspen could get killed. India looked around the room. It was dark, empty, and her stomach was grumbling she was so hungry. She couldn’t believe that she slept through dinner again.
Her hair was dry, and as she sat up she had this funny sensation. She remembered dreaming about Fisher. She’d actually felt him running his fingers through her hair. She was so stupid. These men were just doing their job. They weren’t interested in her in that way. Besides, she looked like shit. Beaten to a pulp, swelling everywhere, and God, she stunk for days and they’d had to deal with it.
She wanted to cry. It was nauseating.
India had always been quite independent. Her family had money, were middle class, but she wanted more. So much more than what most people had. It had been her motivation in obtaining her marketing and product development degree and then beating out every male counterpart in the firm she had worked for. She had gained such a great following and committed client list that she branched out on her own. Getting into home designs and decorating for high-end clients was something she fell into by accident. She had gone from corporate cut-throat politics, and fighting over ideas on product advertising and marketing, to just enjoying the creative aspect of promotion. Two years ago she decided to sell off the company and go completely solo, taking only the highest paying positions. She loved redesigning homes for everything from personal likes to settings for films and magazine shoots. She landed James’s job because his home was going to be featured in a Better Home’s magazine.
She was in demand. But lately that demanding atmosphere was getting under her skin. She wanted more. Not monetarily, as she was set for life, but more emotionally.
It seemed she was lacking that full-commitment attitude in her life both professionally and personally. She wanted challenges, and proved she could change professions and succeed. Too bad that wasn’t the case in her love life. No one was ever good enough, or committed enough. Then when they seemed like they could commit she got cold feet and broke things off. It was frustrating.
The guys she hooked up with had to meet a certain criteria before she even entertained their advances. It was her way of maintaining control and keeping her heart intact. A woman who fell instantly in love or worse, in lust with a man, was heading for destruction. Men were manipulative bastards for the most part. They did things to get things. Men made compliments, paid for dinner, gave extravagant gifts, to get a woman to spread her legs or be their possession that clung on their arm. They didn’t do things just to be compassionate, to be nice or just because they were authentically good. At least none of the men she ever came across in her experience.
In her profession and the circles she surrounded herself with, men that were sincere, honest and forthright were a dime a dozen. So much so that she didn’t take them seriously. She kept track of her lovers. Six in all from the time she’d started college to just three weeks ago. The last one called her just about every day since, but she just didn’t feel anything for him.
She wondered if she got so caught up in her professional career and reputation that she began to create an alter ego to go along with it all. She looked around the room, noticing how nicely it was decorated. For a bunch of guys living in one house, or at least she assumed they did—they were all always around—they were neat and clean. Unless beyond that bedroom door lay disaster areas. That was typical.
But something told her the rest of the house would be just as nice. She wondered what it looked like and even what the outside looked like. She eased up in bed, feeling everything ache, but she was determined to not take any more pain meds. Besides, her belly was growling so loudly she was surprised one of the men weren’t coming in with a plate of food.
As she got her feet over the side of the bed and cringed, she saw the clock. 5:30 a.m. Early but not unreasonable.
India went to stand up and felt the room spin and her body become combative. It didn’t want to move. It wanted to lie still and not feel pain.
“Come on, woman, you’re stronger than this shit.” She pushed herself and stood up.
She grabbed onto the bed for support and then the bedpost. The door seemed so far away. She wondered how many stairs led to downstairs and thought that going down on her ass might be a real option.
She took an unsteady breath and began to walk. Her body revolted but she ignored the pain and the pressure to her head and got to the door.
Opening it, she looked around and saw the long hallway and then a large winding staircase.
“Holy shit this place is huge,” she whispered.
Each step she took felt increasingly painful yet seemed to somewhat get better. That was until she reached the stairs.
She gripped
the top spindle tightly and gasped as an arm came around her waist and someone whispered behind her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Shocked, she lost her balance and those same strong hands pulled her away from the stairs and into his arms. Looking straight up a good foot and then some above her she saw Fenton.
Dark black hair, green eyes, and tattoos covering his arms below the tight black T-shirt he wore. She felt panicked. She was gasping, trying to catch her breath as he continued to hold her.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed. Not without one of us to help you. All we need is for you to fall down a flight of stairs and break your fucking neck,” he reprimanded and she didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m sorry.” She stumbled with her words. That feeling of hunger that had her pushing through the pain was now replaced with something entirely different.
Fear, uncertainty, and intimidation all came to mind.
“What are you doing?” he reprimanded more as he eyed her over. His hold was firm. He was a big man, with muscles and a capability in his eyes that indicated he was untamed. He definitely was the rudest of the bunch.
“I was hungry,” she said and damned her shaking voice.
“You should have stayed awake to eat earlier. Every night you fall asleep,” he snapped at her as he released her and stepped back as if she had a disease.
She saw the way he looked at her. The way he zeroed in on the bruising and marks against her skin. She was self-conscious about it despite the fact that she was a victim. But mostly she was ticked off at his attitude. The guy was being a dick.
“I was kind of in a bit of pain. But forget it. I’ll just wait until later to eat.” She started to walk toward her bedroom when he raised his voice.
“No. You’ll eat now. We don’t need you getting sick next,” he said it like she was so prissy and incapable of staying healthy or fending for herself. She felt like a child, an invalid, and that pissed her off.
He stepped in front of her.
“Hold onto my shoulders, and don’t fall,” he snapped.
Armored Hearts [The Town of Pearl 7] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) Page 4