Page 14 of Enforcer's Obsession

The kind of thing you might see in any garage, but nothing about this man was standard.

My thought was proven when he opened one of the drawers and pulled out a rectangle of crinkled white paper.

It took me a moment, but I quickly recognized that he held paper hospital gown.

I’d worn a similar gown today when I’d tended a dog who had been wounded in a vicious dog fight, and they were standard attire for those occasions I got to assist with surgical procedures.

I was always excited when I got to wear one of those because the gown made me feel like I was getting closer to my goal of becoming a certified vet tech, and maybe, one day, a vet.

But I wasn’t excited when the man approached me with a gown his hands.

“Strip,” he spat, “and put this on.”

He looked me from head to toe, his face all the more scary because I couldn’t read his expression.

After a moment, he looked away.

At first glance, a thoughtful gesture, or thoughtful enough from the person who had thrown me into the trunk of a car and threatened to burn me.

But whether he’d meant it as a good gesture or not, I wouldn’t be taken in by it.

I also wouldn’t push him.

Not now, when I didn’t have a plan.

“You keep paper gowns in your garage?” I said, deciding to try to build a bridge.

“They come in handy,” he responded.

A nonchalant answer, but one that was revealing.

His back was to me now, though I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he wasn’t completely aware of me. Still, even knowing that, I watched as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged it off.

Before I could stop myself, I gasped, and though he didn’t acknowledge me, I knew he had heard it.

I stared at the strong, muscled planes of his back, the sculpted muscles covered in a twisted mass of gnarled, scarred skin.

I recognized the marks instantly.

Burns.

I felt something in my chest, a feeling far too much like empathy, but then quickly looked away.

The shocking sight got me moving. So, ignoring my fear—and the questions that now raced through my brain—I undressed, then grabbed the gown.

“Shoes too,” he grunted.

I was holding the gown in front of me, trying to figure out if it would fit.

I looked at the flimsy gown, then back to my own robust figure, sure that it wouldn’t. “Can you give me another one?” I asked.

He took three steps, opened the drawer, and walked back to me, his arm extended.

I stared at his hands, careful to avoid his eyes and kicking myself for undressing before I’d been sure the stupid gown would fit.

I huffed, trying to ignore the fact that I was completely naked in a freezing garage with a murderer and reached for the gown.

My fingers grazed his, and the reaction was explosive. My body tingled in an entirely different—and much more terrifying way.

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