Page 14 of Lord of Punishment

He did nothing more than shake his head before struggling to get to his feet. When he slipped, I reacted without thinking, jerking up and rushing toward him, almost sliding on the wet terrain and fallen limbs myself. When I wrapped my arm around his waist, he tilted his head, studying my eyes in such a way that suggested he was as unsure of my intentions as I was of his. While men could be conniving pigs, damn good actors, I had a feeling he wasn’t faking his injury or his memory loss. When he dropped his head, I stiffened. His lips were far too close to mine.

I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip nervously.

“Whoa. Just take it easy. As I said, you have a head injury. You could have a concussion. I should take you to the hospital.”

“No hospital,” he growled, the tone husky, immediately sending a wave of shivers all the way down my spine. “Do you hear me?”

“Okay. Fine. I need to at least get you inside so I can see the condition of your injuries.”

What are you doing? Are you nuts?

The last thing I wanted to do was to introduce him to my baby but there was no other choice. I was still a decent human being and this man was hurt. I couldn’t buy that after almost four years my ex would send someone like this to capture me. It wasn’t possible.

The mystery man’s memory would likely return in a few hours. Then he’d be out of my life.

He hesitated, glancing at the water again before nodding. “Alright.” The fact he didn’t seem to know how to process what had happened to him was just as unnerving as finding him lying half dead on my property.

I was forced to pull his arm around my neck in my struggle to get him up the slope to my house. He was close to being a dead weight at first and I was forced to allow him to rest for a couple of minutes. The bullet could have pierced his chest and I didn’t know it. Shit. I wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe I should call Karen. No, my bestie would call her buddy the deputy. She was even more cautious than I was.

The risk wasn’t worth it.

“Come on. We’re almost there.”

When I finally opened the door, I realized my little man had fallen asleep curled up with his favorite stuffed animal. Unfortunately, Max lifted his head, instantly issuing a low growl.

I was certain my interloper was going to fuel the difficult situation the moment Max lunged toward him, but the mystery man eased out his hand, his fingers curled under. The instinct not to enflame the situation and that he knew exactly how to handle an unknown animal provided a slight sense of relief.

Max glanced up at me and I nodded, the furry creature smart as they came. I trusted his judgment as well as I would any human’s. After sniffing for a full ten seconds, he offered not only a lick to the stranger’s hand but also wagged his tail. The sound of it swishing back and forth was more comforting than I realized. That meant my little family wasn’t in immediate danger.

“What’s his name?” the stranger asked.

“Max. That’s my son, Dillon, and if you dare lay a hand on either one, I will use a different knife on your jugular. Do you hear me?” My thoughts drifted to the gun, but I was terrified of having it close to Dillon.

The stranger laughed. “You’re a tough girl.”

“You have no idea how much I am. Let’s get you into the bathroom.” If he only knew that I lived inside a glass house that I knew would be shattered one day. It was only a matter of time. Until then, I’d do everything in my power to protect my two little boys, the one I’d almost lost to a miscarriage and the furry one who would protect us with his life.

As soon as I eased him against the sink, he took several gasping breaths.

“Would you like some water?” I asked, noticing his lips were cracked.

“Do you have anything stronger?”

“What do you drink?” While it seemed like a ridiculous question, often those who’d received blows to the head and suffered from aspects of amnesia knew certain things about their lives, including favorite foods and drink.

His features softened from before, the glow from the light over the mirror allowing me to get a better look at his chiseled features. His jaw was square, carved perfectly and covered in a shadow of stubble. With his high cheekbones and forehead, he had an aristocratic look about him, except that it was obvious he’d had his nose broken before. I hadn’t noticed before that he had a tattoo on the side of his neck, dark vines crawling up to the base of his skull.

The ink made him appear even more dangerous, the red swirls around the artwork reminding me of blood. I found myself shivering as I studied him.

“Whiskey,” he finally said and broke out into a huge smile that lit up the room. He had straight, perfectly white teeth, his eyes lighting up as if with fire from being able to remember a simple thing about his life.

“Excellent. Now, I need to see if I have any. Stay right here and we’ll get you fixed up.” When I left the bathroom, pushing the door partially shut, I finally took a deep breath.

What the hell are you doing?

The question was one I couldn’t answer right now. It was no use even if I did. I couldn’t turn away someone who was injured, and I couldn’t envision dropping him off outside an emergency room. After all the abuse, the horrors I’d been through, I refused to turn into a monster.

Even if that’s all I’d dreamt about becoming.

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