Page 13 of Burning Truth

Severn stared, surprised at the tone of her voice. He debated arguing, but there was a cute pugnaciousness to the tilt of her chin. “Let me go shower, then, boss.”

She gave him a single nod and moved to sit in her office chair. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

Severn wanted to shake his head as he walked down the hallway, first to his temporary room for a change of clothes, then to the bathroom. He stripped off his ruined shirts and turned to look at the scrape in the mirror. Okay, yeah, it was kind of bad. He’d landed on the point of his shoulder, and there was a decent gash, there. Then a long scrape down his side. No wonder his shirts had been shredded. The shower was going to burn like a motherfucker, but he could see black specks of dirt and road debris in the skin. It edged into the top part of one of his tattoos. It would be a shame if it scarred, he thought sarcastically.

Once the water heated, he stepped into the tiled shower stall. It was nice and roomy and had a pretty cool oversized shower head that could be adjusted. He turned it to the irritating power spray setting, and leaned against the side of the stall, head resting on his forearm.

This had better be enough to clean the gunk out of the scrape. He didn’t want her looking at him with no shirt on any longer than she had to. Most of his scarring was on the front of his body, but along the right side, it did creep around his side. Opening his eyes, blinking through the water, he looked down at his damaged body.

It was no prettier in the soft light of the shower, that was for sure.

In an effort to minimize the look of the scars, he’d slowly but surely built a chest piece tattoo to incorporate them. When the IED had gone off, he hadn’t been wearing all of his gear. Hell, he’d barely been dressed. Closing his eyes, he heard the click ofthe detonator going off, and then the percussive whoomph of sound as the bomb sucked the air in and exploded.

They’d been in a building, taking a breather from their last run. It had only been about four stories tall, but it still had running water, so they’d been taking advantage of the shower. The Brits had turned them onto it. They always seemed to find the best places to camp.

After being in the desert for three weeks, going from call to call, it had been nice to get their gear off, one by one, and take advantage of the shower. He’d been heading back downstairs to his team after his own shower when he heard his buddy Mike greet their thirteen year old guide, Ali. Mike, Blaze, yelled ‘no’, and that had been the last word he’d ever said.

The bomb Ali had brought into their makeshift camp had destroyed the lower floor of the building, as well as everyone in it. The fire had raced up the stairway where Severn stood, setting him on fire before he could even blink.

So, the fire had gotten the left side of his face, down his neck and most of his chest. He’d been carrying his flak jacket and gear in front of him, and that was the only thing that protected his lower extremities. He’d dropped to the stairs and flung himself into another room, rolling on the floor to try to put the fire out.

He’d apparently been in shock, though, because he hadn’t gotten out of the building quick enough to avoid the ceiling falling in on top of him.

None of the men in his team had survived, and it had taken a group of Marines to dig him out of the rubble and get him to the nearest hospital base.

Severn shook his head at the memory. That had been the worst three weeks of his life, waking up and realizing that the men he’d worked with, lived with, joked with, his entire team, had been killed by a kid they’d trusted. A kid they’d worked with for months.

The water had cooled. With a last rinse, he turned the tap off and stepped out of the stall. The towel was long and soft, and he dried off before he wrapped it around his hips. Then he stepped in front of the mirror.

He knew from other women’s reactions that his body wasn’t too bad to look at from a distance, but they didn’t like the scars. The Japanese koi tattoo that stretched from shoulder to shoulder helped mask most of the imperfections, but not all. There was no helping the marks on his neck and face.

The thought of parading in front of Addie Kingston did not fill him with happiness. The woman was a natural beauty, and she didn’t even seem to be aware of it. No, she was aware of it, but she didn’t dwell on it.

The thought of exposing himself to her... well, it wasn’t sitting well with him. He was the exact opposite of beautiful.

Fuck it. She was a client and it didn’t matter what she thought of his scars. Maybe this would put the distance he needed between them.

Slipping into the bedroom, he dug some clothes out of his bag and half dressed, pulling on another pair of dark BDUs. Casually, he draped the towel around his neck. Then discarded it. Then draped it around his neck again.

“Fucking insecure idiot,” he grumbled to himself. But he couldn’t resist leaving the towel draped around his neck, hiding some of the scarring. Then, trying to control his racing heartbeat, he padded down the hallway to the office and walked in.

Addie turnedwhen she heard Severn enter the office, and she caught her breath. It had been a long time since there’s beena man in her house, and Severn wasn’t just any man. He was imposing, glowering, with his shuttered, beautiful eyes and blank face, but something about the way he looked at her made her heart flutter.

Like it was doing right now. Oh my goodness...

Was it because he’d saved her life a few hours ago? Was this some kind of stupid hero worship?

No, she’d reacted to him before he’d saved her. Hell, the first time she’d seen him at the fire, something had tripped inside her. At first she’d thought it was fear, but looking back, it had to have been some feminine reaction to seeing him there, and the fear in his eyes.

If she was reading him right, there was a touch of fear in his eyes now. Was he waiting for her to run screaming at the sight of his naked torso? He’d lifted his chin, as if waiting for her to metaphorically punch him, or something. His gaze had gone stone cold, his jaw clenched, and there was no give to him.

She glanced down. Nothing about his body was a turnoff to her. And she felt like she needed to let him know that.

An intricate web of burn scars crisscrossed his broad, hairless chest, reaching shoulder to shoulder and over in parts. More amazing, though, was the incredibly detailed koi tattoo that took advantage of that texture, using it to delineate the scales of the fish. It made her heart ache at the thought of what had happened to him. She could sense his tension, the way he stilled, as if bracing for a reaction.

His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the building defiance in them. He was expecting her to say something scathing, to look away in disgust. How often had women done that to him?

Instead, she took a deep breath, summoning a playful smile as she stepped closer. “Well,” she said, her voice lightand teasing, “who knew that underneath all that mystery and brooding, you were hiding something this... interesting?”

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