Page 54 of For the Birds

But he couldn’t promise that unless he locked me away somewhere, and I refused to agree tothat.

I let myself have a good cry, then made myself settle down. I tried to take a step back, but James’ arms were like avise.

“I’m okay now,” I reassuredhim.

“I’m not.” He pulled me close again, resting his cheek on the top of my head. “Give me a minute.”

We stood like that for another half minute before he looked down at me with worry in hiseyes.

“Your leg . . . Is that your blood?”

“I’mokay.”

He broke loose and started to lead me to his car, only to stop and pick me up with my hurt thigh on the outside. He set me down on the trunk and checked the bottoms of my bare feet. “Where are your shoes?”

“I lost them somewhere between when I was kidnapped and the warehouse in Louisiana.”

His gaze jerked up to mine as he gently lowered my uninjured leg. “You sure it was Louisiana?”

I gave him a half-shrug. “That’s where Buck Reynolds said we were, and the road signs on the way back confirmedit.”

“I need to know exactly where they tookyou.”

“I paid attention as we were driving back. I can tell you how to get there, although I’m not sure what’ll be left. Tim Dermot and some other guy stayed behind to cleanup.”

He gave a nod and placed his hands on my knees. “What happened to your leg?” His question was direct.

“James, it doesn’t matter.”

“It sure as hell matters to me. I want to see it.” I knew he was warning me that he was about to push up my skirt. I expected him to do it matter-of-factly, like Dermot had done, but he grabbed the hem with his left hand and slowly slid it up, the knuckles of his hand lightly brushing the inside of my thigh. A fire ignited inside me, and I sucked in a breath of surprise.

He ignored my reaction as his right hand followed the left, skimming my outer thigh, and I released a low moan before I realized what I was doing.

His gaze lifted to mine, full of a fire that had nothing to do with anger, but he glanced down when he reached the edge of my bandage. He pulled off the gauze, then stiffened. “What happened that made you need stitches?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.” He used his phone to shine more light on the wound, and his gaze jerked up to mine. “A gunshot wound?” His voice sounded strangled.

I cupped the sides of his face with both of my hands. “I’mokay.”

“Who stitchedthis?”

“Tim Dermot. He gave me antibiotics and some painkillerstoo.”

His eyes hardened, but he didn’t pull away. “Like hell you’ll take those. I’ll get you some myself.”

“He wouldn’t give me anything to hurt me. They saved me, James.” My voice cracked.

He stood between my spread legs and rested his hands on my hips. “It could have been a setup.”

“I wondered that too, but Buck and Tim were just as curious about the men who took me as Iwas.”

“And who werethey?”

“I only IDed one of them—a man named Elijah Landry. I saw him outside of Momma’s house this afternoon. He must have been looking for an opportunity to snatch me. But the big surprise is that he was from Shreveport.”

“Shreveport?” He shook his head, lifting his hand to my face. “When your call cut off . . . I’ve never been so scared in my life, Rose.”

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