Page 23 of Hacked For Love
Robin is staring at me. She’s set the computer bags down on the desk and walks over to me slowly, worry breaking over herface.
I hesitate. “What isit?”
“You’rebleeding,”
I look down at myself—and see that there’s a hole under the arm of my suit jacket, and finally feel that something underneath stings. Blood is seeping slowly through the fabric. “Oh.”
Damn.
Chapter11
Robin
The suddenly intensifying snowstorm is delaying the police. There are mobsters trapped on the roof, and more mobsters are trapped in the building. We have no way out…but we can outlastthem.
I keep telling myself all of this as I sit Drake down on the edge of his huge bathtub and gingerly peel off his suit coat, shirt, and undershirt. Every layer has tears in it where the bullet passed through. I try not to stare at his massively muscled, tattooed torso as I toss the cloth in the sink and peer closely at thewound.
“How bad is it?” he grunts as he lifts hisarm.
I examine it a moment and then lean back, surprised and a bit more hopeful. He didn’t exactly dodge the bullet, but…closeenough.
“Not bad at all. It’s long and shallow and already clotting. But it has to be disinfected, and it will probably have a bruise around it.” I’m trying to be brave. Blood really isn’t something I’m used to dealing with. But I really want to help. “How are yourribs?”
He takes an experimentally deep breath. “Little sore. Might have cracked one, but I’ve got no sharp pains, and no trouble breathing. An inch to the left though, and the bullet would have taken a chunk out ofme.”
“I’m just glad you were lucky.” I take off my coat and boots, knowing we won’t be going anywhere, and toss them aside before crouching in front of him to examine the wound more closely. Then I reach into the first aid kit I retrieved from the closet and take out some alcoholswabs.
He sits quietly while I tend to him, not wincing or flinchingonce.
“So, you’re Russian,” I comment as I gently clean thewound.
“Yes, I was born in Moscow. And before you ask, I’m not part of anybratvaanymore.” His Russian is so perfect that it turns even that one word into music. “But I needed their protection as a teenager in prison, and it took me many years to buy my wayout.”
My heart sinks with unexpected sympathy.He had no choice?That certainly seems to fit with what I have seen of his character, more than the idea that he’s a particularly fluent liar. But then again…I’mbiased.
“I see. There are still rumors around that you’re an active member of…something.” The wound bleeds a little bit as I clean it, but it’s more a long, ugly scrape than anything serious. “Don’t think I can judge you for making a deal, especially if you were a kid when you went inside. Russian prisons areinfamous.”
“They are indeed,” he rumbles in a low, tired voice. But I can see relief on his face. Was he that worried that I would judge him?Happy todisappoint.
I’ve learned my lesson about jumping to negative conclusions about DrakeSteele.
I wash the blood off of him gently, fascinated by the smooth ripple of muscle up his side. “How does that feel?” I murmurdistractedly.
“Your nursing skills are top-notch,” he purrs in response, and I reluctantly straighten. “This history of mine...it doesn’t botheryou?”
I have to think about it before answering him, so maybe it does a little. In the end, though, I admit the truth. “I always knew you had a past. I just didn’t know what it was.” My tone is more tender than I want it to be, but less tender than I feel. “I guess we both have histories we’re trying to get awayfrom.”
He stares at me intensely for a few moments and then stands, towering half-naked over me. I straighten, looking up at him—and he takes me in his arms. “I’m glad youunderstand.”
Oh my God, he’s half-naked.I freeze and look up at him—and feel his heart beating fast against my breasts. “I’m surprised,” I mumble, my fingertips trailing shyly up his chest. “I…I got youshot.”
“No, I got me shot. I should have waited until we confirmed their damn identities before opening the roof access.” His huge hand strokes back through my hair, and I feel the muscles in my neck loosen at thecaress.
I want to melt into his arms all of a sudden. We’re trapped in here, and it might be hours before we can leave. It scares me—stifles me. Waiting for a police rescue almost feels like a joke…but I’m inside a fortress right now. Safe. Withhim.
I want him to drown out this caged feeling that I just can’t get rid of. I throw my arms around his neck and lean against him—and his mouth comes down on mine and steals mybreath.
His lips and tongue work against mine insistently, teasing out my response until I’m kissing him back just as fiercely. I’m clumsy, nervous; I’ve got no clue what I’m doing. My legs wobble, and he scoops me up against him. I cling to him like a rock in astorm.
