Page 16 of Jager's Prey
“That’s what we’re afraid of.” Kujo told me.
I chuckled and nodded to Mack who hung up. He read out the directions and by the time we were almost out of gas, I pulled through the large black gates leading into the massive house. I watched until the gates closed behind us, before driving the around to the back of the house.
We gathered what little we had and hurried inside, putting in the code for the alarm and locking the door behind us.
Each of us took a shower. It was our first in a long time. While Cage did, I took the SUV out to pick up some food to last us a while. By the time I returned, Cage had fallen asleep in one of the bedrooms.
“He’s exhausted.” Mack told me. “It’s like the adrenaline crash is hell on his body.”
“We need to get him to a doctor.” I muttered, pulling stuff from the grocery bag.
“We can cross that bridge when we get to it.” Mack replied.
Silently, we cooked together. It was something I didn’t think was possible. Mack and I weren’t friends. We barely knew each other—yet there was a sense of peace dancing around him in the kitchen, working at his side that scared me.
For that time, I immersed myself into a sense of normalcy that I didn’t think I deserved but craved.
Mack groaned and I looked over to see him rubbing his left leg just above the knee.
“Let me see.” I reached for his hand.
He pulled away. “I’m fine.”
“You’re in pain.” I told him. “I can see it on your face. Now, stop tryin’ to be macho and let me have a look at your leg.”
Mack caught my wrist. “Jager.”
“Ugh—men and their macho bull-shittery.”
“It’s not about being macho.”
“No?” I asked. “Then tell me why you’re bein’ so stubborn about this.”
“Because...” He exhaled loudly and released my hand. “Okay.
After a slight pause, I took his hand and led him to the living room. Bracing my palms to his shoulders, I pushed him backward into the sofa. The way he looked up at me boiled my blood in all the best ways they wrote about.
For a moment, I allowed myself to think he desired me. I allowed myself such a simple thing that so many women took for granted. It was that thing that made men want them, desired them. I never had that—never thought it developed in me.
Ashamed of myself, I tore my eyes away and slipped to my knees in front of him. Without a word, I rolled the leg of his pant up as high as I could get it before his muscular thigh stopped me. I then looked down at the prosthetic to see his leg had been amputated below the knee.
“Hrm.” I muttered.
“Hrm? Why hrm?” He asked.
“There’s some swelling right along the knee.” I explained to him, tracing the post with a gentle finger.
He hissed. “That happens when I wear the prosthetic for too long in ways it wasn’t built for.”
“Okay, so we need to take it off.”
“If I take it off now, with the swelling—” He stopped to offer me a small smile. “If anything happens, I won’t be able to put it back on.”
“Show me how to do this.” I told him.
“Jager…”
“Stop.” I met his eyes. “Show me how to take it off.”
