Page 49 of Cabin Fever

These hand gestures were amazing. Now if I could only teach Carter to sit and stay . . .

I crept and cursed under my breath that everything in the house was made of wood. The floorboards creaked but thankfully, the men were too enthralled in their wrestling match to notice. It made it easier to get behind the robber and assess his weak points.

Getting into position, I leaned back on one foot and put all my strength into my kick. The guy arched back as my foot landed on his side. He screamed in pain. I stood, a bit stunned but proud that my years of training had paid off. I kicked a bad guy and it actually hurt him.

For some reason, I stared at my hands in awe as if they did the kicking. Until I was knocked back and fell to the floor.

"Bitch! That fucking hurt." The guy with a long, sharp nose and almond-shaped eyes stood over me.

He was panting like a deranged animal. I swear I saw foam at the corners of his mouth. He lifted his foot back, and I knew what was to come—a kick. I had been trained for this eventuality. I knew how to grab his foot and twist it before he could land his blow.

But I never had to implement my training as his foot stayed behind him. I watched the dum-dum hop on one leg, his beady eyes straining to widen. Carter had the guy's foot, but he only had use of one hand to hold him in place. He needed help.

I jumped to my feet and landed my final blow. Did I know it was going to be the kick that would take the jerk down? No. Everything was happening in the moment. But then my heel hit his face, and I watched his lips ripple as his head flew to the side like something out of a movie. I knew one thing for absolute certainty—I was a certified badass.

He crumpled to the floor breathing, but unconscious. I looked up at Carter and he held up his hand. I slapped it because that's what bad motherfuckers do. They high-fived after knocking out a bad guy.

Flushed, Carter was breathing hard, but with a wide grin on his face.

"Yeah! I want to go find more baddies and beat them up." I hopped in the air as the adrenaline pulsed through my veins.

"How about we call the police instead?"

Carter ruined the moment by bringing logic into it.

"Fine. But I feel we should use our powers for good. Maybe take our ass-kicking skills on the road."

His laughter burst forth like a warm breeze. I wanted to rush into his arms, thankful he was alive. That I was alive. And then I wanted to grill him about why he wouldn't let me help from the beginning.

My hand shook as I stepped forward and placed it on his chest. "You okay?"

Carter grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. With a sigh, he kissed my palm. "Yes. And you? How are your boobs?"

"What?" I said with a puff of laughter.

"I wanted to make sure . . . You know, since they had been beaten up so many times in the past. Should I massage them? Would that make them feel better?"

"Yes. Very much." I pulled away, placing my hand on my tit. "This one right here had a long day. See how stiff it is." I slid my finger over the tip of my nipples.

Carter's head fell to mine. "I really want to work out the kinks on your breasts, but I should call the sheriff first."

He stared at my chest and nodded, making that strange sexy sound again.

"I really hate when you start acting logically. Fine, but after this deadbeat is dragged off to jail, I expect a full rub down." My grin grew as his eye lifted to meet mine. "Front to back."

The guy on the floor moaned, breaking us out of our thoughts of deep breast massage.

Kitty barked and then burped. I noticed something fall from Kitty's mouth.

"Eww. What was that?"

Carter walked over and lifted the white glob from the floor. He brought it to his nose to sniff. Then Carter did something that had me questioning my attraction to him. He was handsome, rugged, and I never had a dull moment with him, but when he stuck his tongue out to get a taste of the thing he picked up off the floor, I contemplated calling the police on Carter and not the intruder.

"Oh no! Ugh. That was disgusting." I brought my hand to my mouth and mumbled, "I think I'm going to be sick."

It seemed Carter relished in my misery. He lifted his head, smiling, and held out the half-eaten Kitty grossness. "You want some?"

I turned and waved him back. "For the love of God, Carter, throw that away. You have issues. Some sick food issues."

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