Page 39 of Fire Meets Fire

His deep voice sounds from behind me. “These fainting episodes you have. They’re PTSD?”

That’s safer ground than going back through the things that were done to me. “Vasovagal Syncope is the official name. When something triggers me, my heart rate and blood pressure drop.”

“What are your triggers?” he asks, then quickly surmises for himself. “Let me guess, a man behaving in a threatening way, or children.”

That’s two of them. But there’s more. “The way the air moves. A certain scent on the breeze. A sound, a word. Practically anything can have that effect on me.”

“Is there any treatment?”

“Avoiding triggers?” I half-turn, letting him see that while they are so numerous and can come out of nowhere, that’s hardly something that I can achieve. “Oh, they suggest not getting dehydrated or stressed, and, of course, trying to stay in safe places so you don’t hurt yourself when the inevitable happens.”

“Like lying on a beam, shooting at members of an outlaw MC.”

“That’s not my definition of stressful,” I retort.

He chuckles loudly, then says, “I so want to give you a hug.” His hands lift, but they remain still in the air, a physical as well as verbal offer. Just one move on my part would take me into his arms. Human comfort that I haven’t felt for what seems like years.

Again, a shuddering sigh leaves my body. “I like you, Chaz. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t repay you.” I give a sad shake of my head. “I suspect a major trigger would be a man trying to touch me.” And that had already been proven, the prominence of his enlarged cock had ended our fight.

“I can understand you not wanting a man to fuck you,” he states bluntly, his eyes narrowing. “I just think you’ve been on your own so long, you’d like someone on your side. A hug is all I’m offering.” He breaks off, harrumphs, then grins. “I’ve too much respect for my balls to push you too far.”

My body wavers toward him. Something about what he’s offering calls viscerally to me. He’s right. I’ve been alone far too long, all my life if I’m honest. I feel drained from my confessions, and the idea of leaning on someone if only for a short time is something I’m loathe to turn down.

But I need to warn him. I have no clue what my traitorous body is likely to do. “I might…”

“I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” With that statement, he takes the decision out of my hands, placing his lightly on my arms and pulling me to him. His hold is so gentle there’s no way to feel entrapped, and with his palm on my head as encouragement, I place my cheek on his chest. He feels solid. He’s all muscle and no flab, and even though he’s not wearing his cut, the scent of leather still pervades as though it’s ingrained into his skin. I don’t feel trapped, nor afraid. For a while, he holds me without moving, then slowly he starts to stroke my hair.

His non-threatening, non-sexual caress calms me, and rather than the rate of my heart dropping, its beat seems to sync with his. There’s no telltale ringing in my ears, no dizziness, no signs I’m going to pass out. The longer he holds me, the more of my weight I give him, and the more I relax.

It’s a few minutes before his chest rumbles. “You think the person after you is one of those who survived?” I start to tense, and he continues his caress. “Or maybe a relative of one who died?

“I got a medal,” I whisper. “One I didn’t deserve.”

“You fuckin’ deserved it,” he snarls. If his words hadn’t been in my defence, the intensity of his tone might have frightened me. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continues. “You probably saved lives doing your best to get the helicopter down, and then did what you had to in order to survive. You sacrificed for your country in ways men could never understand.”

I might not be a girly girl, but like most women, I thought one day I might get married and start a family. Or, at least, that I would have that option. Of course, not every woman can conceive, but few have the opportunity taken away. I suppose it’s human nature to want something when it’s no longer a possibility.

“Way I see it is you’re the same as someone who’s lost a limb though there’s no visible injury.”

“Being without an arm or a leg would be worse,” I disagree.

“But probably just as hard to come to terms with.”

His arms are too comforting, so much so I make myself pull away. I can’t get attached to anyone, not given the way I’m currently forced to live. I also don’t want to feel I owe anyone anything, and Chaz has risked everything to get me away.

Turning toward the window again, I wrap my arms around my body. It’s no substitute for his, but it’s far safer. I speak over my shoulder.

“How did you get Jacinta here when you threw your phone away?”

“I always carry a couple of burners in my saddlebags.”

Of course he does.But I’m glad he’s got a way to communicate. “Ring your brothers and go back to them. It might not be too late to mend your fences.”

“Darlin’, I sealed my fate when I took you away. The only recompense I could make is taking you back with me and that’s the price I’m not going to pay.”

“I don’t understand.” I’ve told this man he can have no expectations, no hopes of a future with me.

“Would it help if I say neither do I?” He comes up behind me, resting his fingers lightly on my shoulders. “I’ve got no fuckin’ idea what made me do such a crazy thing. I just knew I couldn’t let whoever that bastard is get his hands on you.”

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