Page 16 of Viral Justice

The fury in her face didn’t leave, but it was tempered with other emotions now—flitting across her face too fast for him to name. She pointed at the bed. “Sit. We’re going to talk about this.”

Max sat. He didn’t want her inside his head, didn’t want to talk about things that still hurt as much today as they had thirty years ago.

She watched him for a few moments, then sat next to him, her leg touching his. “Someone did a real number on you.”

He couldn’t stop looking at the bruises on her neck. Bruises he’d put there. Nausea churned his gut.

“Yes, someone did.” That’s all he got out before his own body threatened to choke him. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening to him in front of her. He tried to cough, but that just made it worse. He opened and closed his fists and focused on getting his breath back.

It was as if his father had his hands around Max’s throat again.

Choking him.

Killing him.

A small hand settled on the nape of his neck, then rubbed up and down his back. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Max,” she said in the gentlest tone he’d ever heard from her.

She put her head on his shoulder and kept massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck. Her shampoo smelled light and citrusy with a hint of vanilla. She smelled like home. It dissolved the dam of anger, fear, and self-disgust clogging his throat, allowing him to breathe again.

His heart rate calmed and the heat of her body penetrated the miasma of caustic emotions cloaking him. Her head rested comfortably against his shoulder, impressing upon him just how small she was compared to him. Compared to most men.

Her personality was such a force of nature she seemed to take up more space than was possible. But now, sitting on his bed, her hands kneading his knotted muscles, need coiled low in his gut.

“You,” Ali said in a thoughtful tone, one he’d never heard from her before, “could defend yourself against a faceless enemy in the dark, but not one you can see in the light. Even if it’s a paper target.”

Her observation smacked him in the face. He’d never thought about it that way, but she was right. The dark had never bothered him. He could cloak himself in it and hide from all kinds of dangerous things, most of which lived in his memories.

The tightness sitting like a thousand-pound weight in the space between his collarbones shifted and shed more of its bulk. Her warm weight comforted him more than he wanted to admit. This fuzzy pajama-clad Ali was more dangerous to him than any woman in a long time. If he didn’t distract her soon, she was going to discover just how arousing he found her.

She lifted her head to look at him. “For most people it’s the opposite.” She sounded almost...excited.

Oh no.

“What are you planning, to teach me hand-to-hand combat while I wear a blindfold?” He was just as shocked as she was at his question.

He could breathe freely.

Her wicked grin made him even more uncomfortable. “That is an excellent idea.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. “That’s not going to work.”

“Why not?”

“I tried it. More than once. All I ended up with was bruises.” And nothing else.

She pursed her lips. “I’m not going to give up on this,” she said. “I promised my dad I’d have you able to defend yourself at least.”

“I promised him the same, so no giving up here. But what about just now? Ihurtyou.”

“You took me down, then let go as soon as I made my identity clear. No harm, no foul.”

“No harm?” How could she say that when she was sitting right next to him, her neck red everywhere he’d applied pressure. “I’m lucky I didn’t do any permanent damage to you.”

“Max,” she said, slanting him a look. “Small injuries happen. It’s an occupational hazard.”

He was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “No. This—” he waved his hand around to indicate their current situation “—can’t go unpunished.”

Whatever else he might have said was cut off when she took his face in both her hands and kissed him.

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