Page 8 of Damned
Chapter Four
God really was go-o-o-o-od, make that great. No, make that spectacular, and Kruze had the absolute proof at the tips of his callused, but clean and sterile-gloved, fingers. He’d lifted the skirt off Bree’s long legs, and rolled it carefully up to her waist and out of his way. The skin on her backside wasn’t tanned like her face, neck, and hands, likely because of the rags she’d been forced to cover hervile, American body. The skin of her ass was creamy white, except for the angry red divots where flying glass had struck and streaks where she’d bled. He could only imagine the pain. But her cheeks were hollow, instead of plump and lush like they should’ve been. She was seriously underweight. He could see clearly now, and there were significant bruises on her body that he wanted to ask about, but didn’t.
A woman’s ass would always be magic as far as Kruze was concerned, and Bree’s was spectacular, even with those nasty trails of dried blood spoiling the view. Adeptly, he used every last drop of the betadine from his kit to paint her rear, from the dimples below the small of her back to the backs of both knees, where the damage began.
She shivered as goosebumps prickled her skin. “Whoa, that’s c-c-old.”
“Sorry, I’ll warm you up later. Err…” That didn’t come out like he’d meant. “What I mean is, I’ll reheat dinner and whip up a hot toddy to help you sleep later. I’ve got instant coffee if you want.”
“Caffeine,” she sighed. “A girl’s best friend.”
“You like a boost to get through the day?”
“I used to, but weren’t we supposed to get out of here?”
“We need to rest and eat first. We’re safe. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Bree settled her chin over her crossed forearms. “Coffee’s better than energy drinks.”
“Ever use straight caffeine tabs?” Kruze pinched the tweezers until it grabbed hold of the tip of the tiny glass shard peeking out from the crease at the back of her knee.
“No, no one needs to be that wired. Ever try inhalers?”
He shook his head, deposited the shard into the garbage bag, then said, “Nope,” and made the P pop. “I’ve got enough vices. Don’t need another.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re asking. Just coffee, whiskey, cigarettes. The usual.”
“I didn’t know you smoked. I mean, I can’t smell it on you.”
For some inner caveman reason, Bree admitting she’d been close enough to smell him, turned Kruze hard. He ignored the sensation springing to life in his pants and explained. “I swear off cigarettes whenever I’m working. Smoke carries on the slightest breeze. It’d give me away.”
He squeezed a goodly dose of antibiotic cream onto a bandage, then pressed it over the first glass-free wound. One down. He’d already zeroed in on his next target, a shiny speck gleaming from the center of the next bloody divot, this one farther up the back of her same leg. The first wound hadn’t been as infected, but the skin around this one was puffy and red.
Bree watched over her shoulder while he eliminated the sliver, then two others, before he doused those wounds with sufficient antibiotic cream and sealed them with bandages.
“Are you a trained medic?”
“Former SEAL, remember? We all have some medical training.” Carefully, Kruze smoothed a palm over the back of her bandaged thigh, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. “I hate to sound like a creep, but how does that feel? Any stings? Pinches?”
“Feels better, thank you.” Bree sighed, as she laid her head sideways on her folded arms.
She sounded sad. He cocked his head to his shoulder to look at her. “Hey. I’m going as fast as I can. Give me twenty more minutes and we should be done, okay?”
“Why do you hate me?”
Kruze blinked at the unexpected question. “I… I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Disgust was written all over your face when we were stuck under that jeep. I could feel it rolling off of you. Is it because…?” She stalled, then recovered with, “You didn’t want to be there, did you? You didn’t want to rescue me.”
“This is going to hurt,” he muttered, avoiding the question while he tackled the largest chunk of glass barely sticking out of her butt cheek. Damn, it was slick with infection, but one razor-sharp corner was stuck under her skin. Just like the lie that was stuck in his throat. Kruze was forced to dig the tip of the tweezers into her tender flesh, maybe a quarter of an inch, before he got a good grip on the glass.
“Well?” Bree asked quietly, even as Kruze pulled the offending sliver out and discarded it. “Ouch, that hurt. What’d I ever do to you?”
“Sorry. That one was deep.” He huffed a patient breath but admitted, “It isn’t you. It’s something that happened to my brother a couple years back. I acted badly today, and I’m sorry. It was my fault, a bad case of transference. Displaced anger. Whatever you want to call it.”
“What happened?”
