Page 82 of Lethal Vengeance
Carefully washing off the dried blood, I probe the cut on my face. When no blood appears, I dig into my bag to find the butterfly stitches. Carefully pinching the edges of the cut together, I place the first one. Seven stitches later, my face is done. Now for my arm.
Once the bandages are in place, I hop into the shower. What I wouldn’t do for hot water, but lukewarm and trickling will have to do. My skin is crawling with the feel of Armando, and even though the water stings like a bitch, I wash every inch of my body.
Once out, I slip on some soft joggers, a t-shirt… and my socks and shoes. I’m not walking around this house in bare feet.
Cruz is standing at the front door, looking out into the night, when I return. He motions me over. “Let me see.”
I stand in front of him.
He slides a finger down the cut on my face. “Good job. Any scar you have will be faint.”
“Like the ones on your body?” I ask, lightly running my hand down his chest. “Are those from your father or work?”
“Mmm, both.”
How could his father use real knives to train him?
I didn’t realize I’d asked the question out loud until he answers.
“Ghosts are often captured and tortured. I needed to be trained to handle pain so I could rise above it. The kind of secrets I carried couldn’t see the light of day,” he explains softly, his low voice tinged with a slight southern accent, telling me his emotions are close to the surface. He holds his arms out to me, and I slide into them.
I snuggle in tight wanting him to feel me close. “Where’s Raider?”
“We needed food, ice for your face, and gas.”
“Ice would be heaven,” I mumble against his chest. “Did anyone else get hurt?”
“You saw Zane,” he reminds me. “Sterling and Gabriel made it out without harm. Thomas took a bullet meant for Margot, but thankfully, he was hit in the shoulder—through and through. A few other wounded, but nobody died. A successful operation.”
I lift my head to stare into his intense eyes. “Thank you for… this. All of it.”
He bends down and tenderly places kisses on my lips and the left side of my face. “We’ve got you.”
“What’s the plan?”
Anger and adrenaline are still pumping wildly in my veins. “I need to rest and decompress first. Get rid of the anger.” The only way I can do what I need to do is with icy control.
Taking a few steps back, he guides me over to the couch.
My eyes take in the sleeping bags draped over every inch. The exhaustion I’d been pushing aside since we got here rolls over me like a Mack truck. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Watch over me?”
“I’ll be right here.”
36
QUINN
Shivering, I burrow into the body lying next to me. Warm arms wrap around my shoulders, and the cold disappears. Blinking, I peel open my eyes and find Cruz staring down at me. My face is numb, but the rest of my body is throbbing. The fight comes back to me in full technicolor detail.
“Why am I so cold?” I murmur.
He raises a bag of ice. “We’ve been applying it every thirty minutes to keep your eye from swelling shut.”
“Raise up,” Raider softly orders. When I sit up, he slips an oversize hoodie over me. “We didn’t want to wake you earlier.”
I glance outside, but it’s still dark. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About an hour,” Cruz replies, looking at his watch. “Are you hungry?”
