Page 18 of Valor on the Move
With a sigh, Rafael nodded to a cupboard. “There’s a dustpan and little broom in the back.” He squatted and started collecting large pieces of the dish.
Crouching beside him, Shane swept up the mess, emptying the pan in the garbage more than once and using paper towels to mop up the oily tomatoes. As he squatted beside Rafael to go after some stubborn shards of glass, the question slipped out. “What were you making? Smells good.”
“Nothing much.”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say.”
“It’s none of your business,” he muttered.
“You’re right.” Shane swept forcefully. If the kid wanted to be a snotty brat about it, it was no skin off his nose. “Don’t move. I’m not sure I’ve got it all.”
“It’s fine.” Rafael took two steps and then stifled a cry. “Fuck.” He lifted his foot, and a drop of blood hit the checkered floor.
With effort, Shane bit back an I told you so and motioned to the counter. “Hop up and let me see.”
This time, Rafael did as he was told. His face was beet red, darkening his freckles as he lifted his foot for Shane. Shane prodded the shard of glass embedded in the sole. “Is there a first aid kit?”
Rafael nodded to the cupboards below the sink.
Shane took off his jacket, hanging it from the handle of one of the cupboards, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He made sure his radio and handcuffs were securely fastened to his belt. His leather holster was snug around him, the pistol a familiar and comforting weight. He quickly washed and dried his hands, and then opened the kit. When he glanced up, Rafael jerked his head away, his gaze returning to his twisting fingers.
“It doesn’t make you nervous, does it?” Shane asked.
“No,” he quickly insisted.
“I’d think you’d be used to guns by now.”
Rafael’s brow furrowed. “Guns? Oh yeah, I don’t even think about them anymore. My parents took us to the gun range before we moved to DC so we could learn how they worked and understand them. You know, since we’re surrounded by armed people all the time. They weren’t encouraging us to, like, get our own guns and shoot things. They just wanted us to be educated.”
“Makes sense. Up,” Shane said quietly, and Rafael lifted his foot. Holding Rafael’s ankle with his left hand, Shane eased out the glass with his right, pressing a bandage to it quickly to stem any further bleeding. “Didn’t go too deep, I don’t think.” He held the bandage firmly in place. “We’ll just wait a minute to stop the worst of it.”
“Uh-huh.” Rafael nodded. “So anyway, it’s fine. I realize you guys totally know what you’re doing. With guns, I mean.”
“We do. We have to re-qualify every month with our firearms.”
“You must be a great shot. You guys do so much training. Seems like it never stops.”
“Yeah, it’s ongoing. We have to stay sharp. Run drills for all the possible scenarios.” He shifted his grip on Rafael’s foot and pressed harder against the wound.
Rafael laughed weakly. “Yeah, all the ways some wackos might kidnap us. I guess there are plenty.”
In the silence of the kitchen, Shane could hear the anxious little hitches in Rafael’s breathing. He cleared his throat. “I hope you weren’t too shaken up after that false alarm the first day. I know it wasn’t the most auspicious beginning. It seems like I make you nervous. If you’re having trouble trusting me—”
“What? No. I’m not. I’m just…I’m sorry I snapped at you when you came up here. It was totally out of line.”
“It’s not a problem.” Impatient or pissed-off protectees were a hazard of the job. Shane lifted the bandage for a moment, and then pressed it back into place. There was dark hair scattered on Rafael’s arms and lower legs, and it tickled Shane’s palm where he held Rafael’s ankle aloft. He had the absurd urge to run his hand up Rafael’s leg, and he almost dropped the kid’s ankle like it was a hot potato.
“It’s that I’m not supposed to be in here. My mom’s away for a week. I shouldn’t be cooking, but I figured she’d never find out if I was careful.” His laugh was sardonic. “As you can see, it’s working out really well.”
Shane chuckled, and Rafael gave him a tentative smile. “Don’t worry about it,” Shane said. “You can try it again tomorrow. And you know your secret’s safe with me.”
“It’s stupid anyway.”
“What is? Cooking?” Shane knew he should finish the first aid and get back downstairs, but what was the harm in putting the kid at ease? After that false alarm their very first day, he wanted his protectee to feel safe with him. “I don’t think it’s stupid.”
Rafael met his gaze, his eyes dark and luminous. “You don’t?”
“No. Especially not when you make things that smell this good.” Shane lifted the bandage again and lowered his head to inspect the cut. He ran his fingertips over the sole of Rafael’s foot, making sure there was no more glass. Rafael gasped softly, trembling under Shane’s touch. When Shane met his gaze, Rafael smiled shakily.
