Page 77 of Queen of Blades

“Not like that.” She sighed. “He wanted to, but he didn’t get the opportunity before the lights went out.” She closed her eyes as the memory of the iron flashed through her mind. Swallowing hard, she admitted it. Paul would find out eventually anyway. “He branded my ass.”

“What?” Paul growled.

Elliot flinched as Harper attempted to roll so they could see. As she moved, the young veterinarian assisted, then inhaled audibly. “Oh.”

“What the hell?” Paul squeezed her hand. “Who does that bullshit?”

Harper didn’t have to look at it. She’d seen the bright hot iron before it seared her flesh. It was the logo of the Roughneck Riders—a skull wearing a helmet with two wrenches crossed and an oil rig behind it.

“That’s nasty,” Elliot whispered.

“I want to kill him again,” Paul seethed.

“Don’t worry.” Harper actually found the will to smile. “I stabbed him in the nuts.”

“I hope he was still alive when the flames got him,” Paul said as he shook his head.

Harper couldn’t help but flinch and jerk as Elliot, gentle as he could, examined the burn on her butt. “It’s obviously fresh,” he commented, “but I don’t think infected. I’ll wash it out with sterile water and cover it with some gauze. You’re going to have to clean it several times a day to prevent infection.”

“Is there anything that can be done about the scar?” Paul asked.

Elliot frowned and shook his head. “I mean, if she scrubs it hard enough, it’ll distort, but I don’t recommend that.”

After he dressed the wound, the veterinarian gently guided her down to her back on the table. Paul hovered near her head and stroked her hair with his free hand. The other held hers.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m going to get you some antibiotics and pain medication,” Elliot said as he exited the room, giving them privacy.

Gritting her teeth, she turned slightly and looked up into Paul’s cool blue gaze. It wasn’t as icy as normal. His irises were filled with concern and affection—far softer than she’d ever seen.

“It’s not your fault,” she said.

“I should’ve protected you better.”

“You did all that you could,” she offered.

“It wasn’t enough.” He hung his head.

Reaching up, she ran the tips of her fingers along his jaw. “I’m still here. That’s all that matters.”

They remained silent. No matter what Harper said, she couldn’t relieve the guilt written all over his face. It was in every muscle in his body. All she could do was hope it would go away in time.

Elliot returned and offered her three pills. He explained what each was, and honestly, she was most thankful for the prescription-strength pain medication. Once she took them, Tommy, the owner of the farm, showed them to the living room before he escorted his son from the house.

“I just want to go to sleep,” she admitted as she groaned her way onto the couch.

Paul limped over and sat beside her. Apparently, Elliot had stitched him up quickly. A bullet had grazed his calf. Twice now he’d taken a bullet for her. If that wasn’t devotion, she didn’t know what was.

“About that…” He sighed through his pause as though searching for the correct words. “If you want to go back to North Carolina, Tommy has a plane gassed up and can fly you back.”

“Alone?” she couldn’t help but ask. After everything that happened, the last thing she wanted was to be left by herself. Paul assured her the threat was over, but it didn’t feel that way.

He wouldn’t look at her. “It’s a four-seater plane. If you want me to come with you, I can. If not me, I’ll get someone else—”

“Fuck that. If I’m going anywhere, it has to be with you. I don’t trust anyone else.”

She could see the tension in his jaw loosen. He nodded but still wouldn’t meet her eye. It annoyed her.

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