Page 8 of Black Site

I think about walking over and slapping him upside the head but before I can Dante does it for me without even turning his head. He is good. Some of the men joke that Dante can read minds, and sometimes I almost believe he can too. Remy gives him a 'what the hell' look that doesn't affect Dante one little bit.

I lie down and try to focus on what needs to be done. In my head, I make a mental list of things. Hunting down the fucker who killed my men is still a top priority but now so is this woman lying on the dinner table. Keeping everyone safe and giving them a place to come if we have to tighten security is going to be key in moving forward. It has to be a place easy to defend and away from most people. I start flipping through my list of contacts to think of who might know of a place like that.

We need somewhere safe to lie low until I can hunt this fucker down and make sure he isn't going to be a threat to any more of my men or to my newest member of the team -Libby. What we need is a black site, a place to do the work we need to do to get the job done. One last job before we all really retire.

5

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Libby

Consciousness comes back to me slowly and brings pain and terrifying memories with it. I dreamed of blood and violence just before I come back enough to try to open my eyes. It's not easy because everything hurts and my lids feel like they are made of iron or steel. When I finally do blink them open everything is just a little fuzzy and out of focus for just a second.

One of the first things I realize is how damned soft the bed is I'm lying in. Also, my hands have bandages on them. Both of them. I hold them up in front of me so to study the white wrapping that is tied tightly around them. A sound to my left makes me turn my head too fast and sends the world spinning. When it finally settles back down I see the man with the cast on his hand sitting on a cot-like bed that's been shoved against one of the walls.

Jim. He's Jim Archer. He's the dick who threatened my baby sister just because I was trying to tell him about the Russians. Oh fuck, the Russians! I try to sit up but he's beside me pushing me down and keeping me still with the weight of his hand on my chest. I watched him kill a man right in front of me. Actually, I watched him kill the man that was trying to kill me so I can't be too worked up about caring that he killed someone. The asshole kind of needed to be killed.

His hand on my chest drives home the fact there is nothing in between me and the sheet on top of me. It takes me a full minute before I finally find my voice, "Why the hell am I naked?"

"It was easier to help you that way and I didn't really want you to lie in wet underwear. That can't be healthy."

"Why were my things wet?" I try to think back but can't remember any reason for them being wet in the fight. I remember the blood but that is the only time I can remember anything wet.

"I had to put you in the shower to wash the blood off so we could see where you were injured." His other hand comes up to brush away hair from the side of my head, his eyes intense and glaring. I guess what he says makes sense.

He doesn't move his hand though. In fact, he doesn't even acknowledge the fact that I am trying to move his hand which is annoying as fuck. Before I can ask another question he yanks the sheet down, leaving me uncovered.

"What the hell?!" I would shriek if I had my full voice back. Instead what comes out is more of a gasp and whisper. My wrapped hands go up to cover my boobs. What the fuck does he think he's doing? His hands slightly roll me and I become aware of yet another bandage on my body. He pulls back the tape and his fingers prod my skin which feels too tight and kind of itches.

"You're healing nicely. There's no sign of infection and as long as you don't move around too much it shouldn't take too long to heal up."

"You fucking asshole, you kept pushing against it."

"To keep you conscious, yes, I needed you to stay alert so we could monitor your concussion." One of my hands drifts to the side of my head but when his eyes land on my uncovered boob my hand flies back down to cover it up.

I glare at him but it does nothing to him. Instead, he sticks the tape back on and throws the cover back over me. His grip on my wrists forces them away from my breasts. He starts to unwrap the binding on them when another thought goes through my head. There are a ton of guys coming and going all the time here. If Jim is the person taking care of me it must be because the other men are busy with something else and he had to be the one to do it. How many other men have seen my tits?

The thought of so many people looking at my unconscious body bothers me. I squirm and his eyes track my movements. "What is going through that head of yours?"

"Um, how...did...shit, how many other people have 'checked' me out? All of you guys? Did you all take turns taking care of me?"

A look crosses his face and something dark and stormy comes into his eyes like a storm on the ocean. "I'm the only person who's tended to you since the doctor left. No one else is allowed in here."

His gaze goes back to my palm before wrapping it again.

"Why?" he looks at me with a questioning eyebrow, "Why is no one else allowed in here besides you?"

Is he still afraid I'm some sort of undercover agent sent to beguile his men and undermine his mission, whatever the hell that is? Or because he thinks it's completely beneath his men to waste the time to take care of me? I look at him but all he does is take my other hand and start unwrapping that one too. Wonderful, his silence is deafening. I'll take that to mean it's a little bit of all of the above. At least every one of his men didn't see me bare so that's something I guess.

A knock on the door has both of us turning at the same time. Evie pokes her head in and when she sees me with my eyes open she pushes the door open further. "You're up, that's great. Now I have someone else to talk to other than men." She rolls her eyes. She takes in Jim's stance at the side of my bed and waits for him to move out of the way but he doesn't. Instead they both stand in an epic stare down that has me jumpy.

I guess I can understand why he wouldn't let Evie near me if he thinks I am a danger. Evie huffs and finally moves to the other side of the bed. "Jesus, Jim, can you be any more like a dog with a bone? I mean everyone doesn't know how things are yet." She rolls her eyes at him as sarcasm drips from her words. What does she mean 'how things are yet'? "You want to get out of here for a little while? I'm sure you're tired of being trapped in here with Sergeant Grumpy for company."

I open my mouth to reply when his voice barks out before mine can, "She can't. She's not allowed up until Doc gives her the go-ahead and says she's clear to start doing things again."

Him telling me I can't makes me want to throw the covers back and do it anyway. Who knew I was such a brat? Oh yeah, everyone who has ever told me to do something in that high-handed way he has about him.

"Fine, I'll sit with her for a little while so she doesn't have just you to talk to. By the way, when is Doc supposed to come back?" She too brushes the hair back from my face but it has nothing to do with looking at my wounds. She's just doing it to be kind.

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