Running Fire. Lindsay McKenna

That sinner’s mouth of hers was his undoing. The woman didn’t wear any makeup. There was no need for any, Kell observed. Her hair glinted in the light thrown out by his LED flashlight. He saw some auburn strands mixed with red and gold ones. There was a light covering of freckles across her cheeks, as well.

      His medic’s eyes noticed her nose had been badly broken. It didn’t lessen the impact of her face, which grabbed simultaneously at his heart and lower body. Still, Kell wondered how she’d broken it. And why hadn’t it been reset? Some doc hadn’t done his job, that was for damned sure.

      Picking up the washcloth, he continued to gently move it across her brow, cheeks and neck. Kell could tell she liked it because the tension flowed out of her. What had she cried out about earlier? Pain? He wanted to give her a small dose of morphine, but didn’t dare until he could fully assess her head injury.

      Leah closed her eyes, suddenly weary. The coolness of the cloth against her skin felt heavenly. It struck her spinning senses that it could be a lover gently and tenderly caressing her. She’d never known such a touch. Never would. But his ministrations helped her battle back the darkness that once again wanted to engulf her.

      She felt the cloth lift. Missing his touch, she forced her eyes open. This time, her brain registered how tall and lean he was. There was kindness in his gaze and it shook Leah. A man who was kind? In another lifetime maybe. Her stomach rolled and she felt the acid in the back of her throat. It came on suddenly, out of nowhere. And then, it subsided. Breathing irregularly, Leah put her hand against her stomach. At least she was feeling better than before.

      “Are you thirsty?”

      Leah nodded only once because her head hurt so damn much when she moved it. He was wrapping something around her lower left arm. And then, she felt him leave her side. Opening her eyes, she saw his darkly shadowed shape move from her left side, stop near her feet and retrieve something out of a bag and then straighten. He was lean and graceful, reminding her of a wild animal, a predator, bonelessly moving in her direction. She closed her eyes, her cartwheeling imagination out of control.

      Her mind halted as Leah felt his arm slide beneath her neck. He slowly raised her up into a semisitting position. She was too weak to open her eyes.

      “Don’t drink too much water. Your stomach’s probably raising hell on you about now.”

      Leah felt the press of the bottle lip against her mouth, tasted the first of the water. She was so thirsty. He didn’t allow her a lot of water and she made an unhappy noise in her throat, a protest, when he withdrew the water bottle from her lips.

      Weak, her head lolled against his shoulder. Leah inhaled the odor of male sweat and the damp fabric he wore. Automatically, her nostrils flared. He carefully laid her down.

      Leah felt her stomach lurch and she rolled herself onto her left side, heaving. Her stomach emptied and the dry heaves took over. Leah hated vomiting more than anything, the bitter taste of acid coating her mouth. Her eyes watered. Her nose ran like a faucet. Feeling a mess, the man brought her back into his arms. Breathing hard, Leah weakly tried to wipe her mouth to get rid of the horrible taste.

      “Easy,” he soothed near her ear, holding her in his arms. “I’m going to give you a little more water. Hold it in your mouth, swish it around and then spit it out.”

      His instructions were easy enough for Leah to follow. Opening her eyes, she spat the stuff out onto the cave floor. Her mind felt more clear, less gauzy and incoherent. He gave her more water and she did the same thing.

      “A concussion will do that to you,” he told her quietly. Kell knew he shouldn’t enjoy holding this woman officer in his arms, but he did. She looked so helpless.

      But he knew that wasn’t the case if she was a Shadow pilot. She had a set of invisible titanium balls as far as he was concerned, and he smiled a little. His respect for her was solid. SEALs held all Shadow pilots in high esteem. They risked their lives every time they went out on a mission to pick them up or drop them off in enemy territory. This woman was no weakling. And damn, he liked a strong woman, someone who had backbone coupled with grit woven with a stubborn spirit. Just looking at Chief L. Mackenzie, Kell knew she encompassed all those qualities. And like it or not, he was drawn to her because of it.

      Leah lay in his arms, her cheek resting against his broad chest. She could hear the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest.

      Under ordinary circumstances, she’d have pushed away and not allowed a man to touch her, much less hold her intimately like this. Her senses were warped, and she swore she could feel his incredible concern radiating from him to her, enveloping her, holding her safe. Never had she felt anything like this from any man. It just wasn’t possible. It was her imagination.

      Yet, when he caressed her gritty, dirty cheek, his fingers rough against her skin, tears burned against her closed eyelids. The gesture wasn’t sexual. It was caring. More tears welled into her eyes and Leah wished somewhere deep within her that, when she’d been eight years old, her father had held her like this. Held her, protected her, let her know that he loved her even though... Leah shut the ugly door on that time in her life, serrating pain squeezing her heart.

      As he laid her down, Leah felt abandoned. She wanted those arms around her. She already missed the momentary sense of safety he’d afforded her as she’d lain against his chest. Battling back the tears, Leah gulped several times, her emotions running rampant. She could barely control them. Lifting her lashes she saw the man walk around and kneel at her left side once again. There was concern in his eyes, care burning deep within them. She could feel it, sense it.

      “Wh-who...?” she managed, her voice cracking. She saw him tip his head, study her in the silence. For once, she didn’t feel like she always did when a man looked at her. All they saw were her breasts, her ass and her long legs. They didn’t see her as a person, only as a sexual object, just as Hayden had.

      “Welcome back,” he said, that easy smile shaping his mouth. “I’m Navy Chief Kelly Ballard. I rescued you after you egressed out of that burning helo.”

      Swallowing hard, Leah stared into his shadowed, hard face. It it weren’t for his Southern accent, that hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his well-shaped mouth, she’d have been scared. Because most men scared her. “K-Kelly?” Her mind was trying to wrap around all the information. It was too much for her to process.

      “Most folks just call me Kell,” he offered.

      That was better. It was simple. Her mind could handle four letters. Leah looked up. It was dark. She tried to see where she was. Only a small light cast shadows between them. She could see nothing else. Her brows drew down and she tried to think, but damn, thoughts were elusive. “Where?”

      “In a cave,” he told her quietly. Kell could see her fighting to put it all together. He saw her confusion. Her eyes were more alert looking. He added, “You’re safe. I want you to just relax.”

      Safe. Leah closed her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she trusted this man. This stranger with the soft, deep Southern voice.

      “I need to tend to your arm,” he told her, placing it across his thighs. “You cut it badly. I need to clean it out and stitch it up. Think you can lie still while I do that?”

      Arm. Yes, it hurt like hell. Slowly moving her head to the left, because movement made her dizzy and then nauseous, Leah saw her lower arm wrapped in white gauze. She saw dark coloring across the dressing, slowly realizing it was blood. Her blood.

      He was pulling medical items out of his ruck and laying them neatly next to where he knelt on a small blanket. He donned a pair of gloves, and then took a syringe and poked the needle into a bottle he held.

      “Y-yes, I won’t move,” she managed, her voice raw, her throat feeling dry and hot.

      “You’re a real trooper,” he murmured. “I’m going to take off the dressing and then I’m going to give you several shots of Lidocaine that will numb the area I have to clean out and then stitch up. You ready