Page 56 of Rescued By the Convicts
“How did Reece get on Namir’s ship?”
“I’m not sure, but I suspect there are a few dead men buried in the snow near Hawke’s camp.”
“What now, Zev? Where do we go from here?”
Zev exhaled. “Once Reece finds Ivan and Jayce, we find a way off this station.”
“A station that’s crawling with Namir’s people.”
He brushed her hair off her face. “Ah, well, you’re forgetting something crucial, Mel. Namir has a security force, but we have a unit.”
“Thirty verses five.”
“You’re talking numbers. I’m talking spirit, determination, motivation.”
“There is a difference, isn’t there?” she said, smiling.
God, how he had feared he’d never see her smile again.
“Yes, indeed. I have three brothers out there who would die for each other, and none of them knows the meaning of giving up.”
“Don’t forget about me.”
“You did not just suggest I could forget about you, did you?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“You are the heart of this unit. There is no way in hell I could ever forget you.”
“Heart or not, I need a shower.”
She winced as she turned. Her back. Zev never imagined Namir would abuse her so soon after retrieving her, but he should have. That alone was why Ivan would kill him. No matter how Zev justified his actions, he’d put her in danger.
“Let me see,” he said as he lifted her shirt.
“I’m fine. They’re shallow cuts. Let me shower and clean them.”
As hard as it was, he watched her walk away, her movements stiff. A few minutes later, she called out to him. He ran in. She stood under the showerhead, her face twisted in pain.
“The soap stings. Is there a med-kit in the apartment?”
He scoured through the medical kit and found a topical and handed it to her. “Will this work?”
She glanced at the label. “Nuridaine. Not the best numbing agent, but it’s better than nothing. Can you spread it on for me?”
Zev grabbed the towel from the counter and started drying her off. Green eyes slowly caught him. He tried to ignore the longing he saw there, afraid he was imagining it. But as he patted her neck and collarbone, her fingertips ran over his abdomen, featherlight, stirring him. Toweling her off was getting increasingly hard, along with other parts of him.
“Perhaps you should do this,” he said.
“Afraid I’ll bite?” she asked.
What he wouldn’t give for her to start nipping him, anywhere. “Turn around, so I can apply the medicine.”
She turned around, giving him a delectable view of an ass he knew all too well. He froze, afraid he’d touch her when he no longer had the right.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Are the cuts still bleeding?”
The question and sight of the angry red marks sobered him. He hadfailedher, and he couldn’t simply forget that and move on. He needed to do better, be better for her.
