Page 80 of Deadly Strain

Chapter Eighteen

“They know you’ve beenshot a couple of times, right?” Grace asked with a touch of disbelief as she grabbed her pack and began pulling out fresh bandages.

Sharp snorted. “Like that would stop me.”

“Excuse me?” Grace froze and stared at him with her eyes wide.

He gave her a mischievous grin. “For you, two measly bullet wounds are nothing.”

“Be serious,” she said, sounding impatient. Like every irritated woman talking to a man she was comfortable with. “A rumor like that could make things awkward.”

Except, her hands were shaking.

“Grace—” he began.

“Sharp,” she interrupted. “Take your goddamn pants off.”

Her hands might be shaking, but her voice was rock solid.

“Yes, ma’am.” He shucked his pants, got on the ground, stretched out his legs, and reclined on his elbows so he could watch.

She looked him over, starting from the pants wrapped around his ankles to his face. Whatever she saw there made her shake her head. “You’re such a guy.” She grabbed a pair of gloves, snapped them on, and went after the bandages over his latest wound. “How does this one feel?”

“Okay. No worse than before.”

She peeled the last layer off and leaned forward to get a better look. Dirt streaked her face, her short hair was messy, and there was blood splattered all over her uniform.

He had never seen a more beautiful woman. Ever.

What kind of degenerate moron gets a hard-on in this crummy situation?

Him, obviously.

She poked at the wound and made a happy noise at the back of her throat. A little antibiotic ointment smeared over the stitches, new nonstick pads, and more bandages secured it all to his leg.

She switched to the wound on his thigh, leaning over him further in order to reach, and he had to force himself not to grab her and pull her across his lap.

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