Page 37 of Guarded By Them

I wasn’t sure what to make of the man. He’d put us in this position, but had he done it intentionally? My gut told me no. He’d been armed as well, and he could easily have held us at gunpoint, or conspired to let those other men into the cabin while we were sleeping, but he hadn’t. I was relieved Kodee hadn’t shot him.

“Sure. I’ll get it.”

“I’m coming,” Kodee said, clearly not wanting to leave him alone.

Timmo twisted his lips but nodded. He went into the main bathroom and checked the medicine cabinet and produced a small green plastic box with a red cross on the front.

Dillon was sitting on the couch, his leg elevated.

“You’re going to have to take down the pants,” I said.

“Now isn’t really the time, Rue,” he teased, though his expression was pinched with pain.

“Just take them off.”

He undid the button and zipper and lifted his butt up enough to wrestle them down on one side, exposing the injured thigh. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and I did my best not to get distracted by the sight of his cock peeping at me from beneath the jeans.

A spatter of dark hairs and the bright red smears of fresh blood stood out against the pale skin of his thigh. The bullet had taken a chunk of flesh out of him, but it didn’t look as though it had entered his body. I assumed, if we were to search, we’d find the bullet lodged into the cabin wall where we’d been standing.

I tore open one of the antiseptic wipes. “This is going to sting.”

I was still shaking and lightheaded from the adrenaline after being shot at, and my hands trembled. But it wasn’t as though I was putting stitches in, so I guessed it didn’t matter.

He nodded and turned his face so he didn’t have to look. I smiled inwardly at that. Dillon might act tough, but it seemed he wasn’t too keen on the sight of his own blood.

Working quickly, aware of time running out, I wiped the wound clean. I applied gauze, packed it with cotton wool, then wrapped a bandage around his upper thigh. The back of my hand brushed his balls, and his dick jerked. Even after he’d been shot, it seemed Dillon still had the capacity to think about sex.

“Easy, tiger,” he smirked, though he was pale, “time and place.”

I resisted the urge to slap him, though it would only have been playful.

“You know,” he added thoughtfully, “you’re good at that.”

I assumed he was talking about me cleaning up the gunshot wound rather than me touching his balls. “When I was younger, I spent a lot of time patching up my mother when she came home drunk and injured. She used to fall down a lot, or she’d get in a fight and come home with a split lip or cut open forehead. She couldn’t ever remember how she got the injuries, so I assumed that was how she got them, anyway. There was no way we had money to pay for any hospital bills, so I always just ended up taking care of her myself.”

“You have a gentle touch,” he said. “Maybe you could have been a nurse or a doctor.”

“Yeah, maybe in a different life. I think I would have liked that. I enjoy helping people.”

“It’s not too late, you know,” he said softly.

I gave him a sad smile. “We’ve just been shot at in the middle of the night. People like you and me don’t go on to have good, normal careers and happy lives. I think we both know that.”

“That’s not true, Rue.”

“Dillon, I’ve never even been to school—not since I was too young to remember, anyway. I can barely read and write, never mind take the kind of exams that would put me into a profession like that. I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but I’m not so naïve as to believe it.”

Maybe I should have just smiled and run with the dream, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Life was fucking hard, and I wasn’t going to live in some dreamworld. Not facing up to reality could get you killed, and since the rest of the world seemed intent on seeing me dead, I didn’t plan on giving them a helping hand.

“There,” I said, finishing up. “You’re all done.”

“Good.” Kodee got to his feet. “Let’s get our stuff and get the hell out of here.”

“What are we going to do about Timmo?” Ryan asked.

“There isn’t much we can do.”

“You think he might follow us, or make a call to someone and tell them where we are?”

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