Page 41 of Lethal Game

Chapter Eight

She had been scared, but for the two men who attacked her. Con had looked both capable and willing to kill them. “No,Iwasn’t scared of you. I was scared you were going to do something you’d get in trouble for.” She paused. “Though I admit I did have a hard time not kicking them both in the face. I really wanted to do that.”

He grunted, and Sophia followed him out her door and into his room. No one else was around, which was probably a good thing. Rumors didn’t take long to make their rounds on the base and if anyone saw her going into Con’s room, it would be all over the base by morning that they were sleeping together.

Con locked the door behind her.

She took three steps in and came to a stop. Aside from the bed, much too narrow and probably too short for a man Con’s size, there was a duffel bag on the floor. That was it.

“Max said something about a cot, didn’t he?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Con moved around her to crouch down next to his duffel. His shoulders were hunched over and he wasn’t looking at her at all.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” But he still didn’t look at her.

“Don’t lie to me.” She hadn’t meant to say it so hard, but despite her normally excellent coping skills, after the events of the last few hours she was discovering she had very little control of her emotions.

He glanced up at that with a fierce frown. “I’m not.”

“Then why are you acting so strange?”

“Strange? How long have we known each other? Three days tops and you think in that time you’ve got me all figured out?” He shook his head and went back to his duffel.

“I know your job is the most important thing in your life.” She took a step toward him. “I know you hate feeling weak or out of control.” Another step. “I know that when you saw those two men attacking me in the hallway you were willing to do anything it took to save me.” One more step. “I know that if you were injured during that fight, you wouldn’t tell me because you don’t ever want to set foot in another hospital again.”

He stood, staring down at her with an unreadable expression. “I’m not injured.”

“Prove it.”

He stood, unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor.

She visually examined every inch of his chest, then took one wrist and rotated his arm to see if she’d missed a cut or a slice. Nothing. She repeated the inspection of the other arm.

God he smelled good. Like pine and earth and strength.

“Turn around.”

He followed her order without comment and she found no injury of any kind.

He turned around and pulled his shirt on, though he didn’t bother with buttoning it up. “Believe me now?”

“Yes. But I still think you’re acting strange.”

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