Running Fire. Lindsay McKenna

nightmare was. Kell didn’t want to believe that a man was hitting her. Maybe just a bad dream about the crash?

      Leah moaned and covered her eyes with her right hand. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she muttered, her voice low and hoarse.

      “It’s all right,” Kell murmured. He liked the soft strands of her hair. It was strong, thick hair. The strands were silky and sifted through his fingers. He saw his touch was having a positive effect on her. He kept his other hand over hers, keeping that injured arm on her belly, unmoving because it was such a long, deep gash. Sudden movement could rip the stitches he’d so carefully put in.

      Kell’s hand on hers felt warm and dry. Leah felt sweaty. She was trembling from the nightmare that came too often and usually left her up the rest of the night, adrenaline screaming through her body to run and escape.

      She needed Kell’s firm, warm touch. His hand was so much larger than hers, spreading out across her abdomen. The more he moved strands of her hair through his fingers, the more she calmed down. Leah wondered if he was like a horse whisperer, having magical qualities in his hands and voice to tame even the most violent of human beings. Whatever it was, maybe because he was a combat medic, he had a healing touch. And she trusted him.

      Kell saw her start to pull out of it and removed his hands. He rested them on his thighs, absorbing her beauty. Probably married. Yep, someone as pretty as she was would definitely be married. He felt sad about that, but he was a realist. Even if she hadn’t been, it would never work. It was against the UCMJ for an officer to fraternize with an enlisted person. Both could receive a bad conduct discharge, which would leave their careers effectively destroyed.

      Yet, as he absorbed her, his heart reached out to her. That was silly and he snorted softly. He had a family called the SEALs. Getting involved again was not in the cards. It was a high-stakes poker game and the last time Kell had played it, he’d lost.

      His lawyer wife, Addison, had hated his long periods of being gone, his having to spend six months in combat. She told him she felt as though she was marrying the SEALs and not him. Sadly, there was a lot of truth to her incisive statement. Kell had learned the hard way women weren’t meant to be married to a SEAL for long. There was a 90 percent divorce rate among them. And if a marriage lasted ten years, that was considered a long time. That should have warned him off, but it hadn’t. Now, he was a part of that sad statistic.

      Leah opened her eyes, released from the nightmare. She felt Kell’s presence to her left and slowly turned her head. He sat back on his heels watching her. There was such calm in his face. His shoulders were so broad, as if they could carry more weight than a normal person’s. Even dressed in SEAL cammies, she could see his chest was broad, hips narrow. He was probably around six foot, maybe a little more. Her gaze drifted down to his hands resting on his long, hard thighs.

      Healing hands. Hands that did not hurt her, but took her pain away. She closed her eyes. The agony of her abusive marriage had taken a chunk out of her fractured soul. Hayden had taught her about the dark side of a man’s nature. He’d been a sexual predator, physically, emotionally and mentally abusive to her. He’d needed to control her, remind her who was boss.

      How had she survived it? There were times when Leah thought for sure Hayden was going to kill her. He’d come close three different times. And all three times, she’d ended up in the hospital. Desperate to forget it, Leah opened her eyes and met Kell’s curious gaze.

      “I’m sorry for waking you...”

      “It happens,” he said with a slight shrug. “Want to sit up?”

      Nodding, she whispered, “Yes, but I feel like a damned puppet.”

      Ballard gave her a lazy grin and came over and helped her, placing the blanket behind her back so the rough cave wall wouldn’t tear at her or her flight suit. “You will for a couple of days.” He brought over her helmet. “Take a look at this.” He turned it so that it showed where part of it had been split open.

      Drawing in a deep breath, Leah’s eyes widened. “That was the blade,” she rasped. “It came flying into the cockpit.” And it had struck Brian, and part of it had cut into her helmet. She whispered tearfully, “Jesus...”

      “Yes, I suspect Jesus did have something to do with saving you tonight,” Kell murmured, placing the helmet aside. He saw the stark reality in her eyes, the understanding that she could have been decapitated if she’d been at a different angle in that cockpit. Just inches...

      “I’m not a religious person,” Leah muttered, closing her eyes, remembering the blade slicing like a saber through the cockpit.

      “All men find religion in foxholes,” he drawled. “Death makes for a lot of converts.”

      Opening her eyes, she looked over at him. She was feeling better but only marginally. “I never told you who I was. I’m Leah Mackenzie. Thank you for saving my life.”

      Heat coursed down through Kell. The expression in her eyes touched his heart. His whole damn body was on fire. No woman had ever affected him so powerfully. He could see the gratefulness in her green eyes, in the way her mouth went soft. So damned kissable. If only... He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to officially meet you, ma’am.”

      “Don’t go there,” she protested. “Just call me Leah. Please?” She gave him a pleading look. “I don’t think the UCMJ is out here looking over our shoulders right now, do you?”

      He managed a one-cornered grin. “No, I guess not. That’s a pretty name you have, Leah.”

      “An old-fashioned name. I was named after my grandmother, who I loved so much.”

      “Nothing wrong with being a bit old-fashioned,” he said. “I kind of like it.” Hell, he was devouring her with his eyes. Kell didn’t think she really knew how beautiful she was. There was no arrogance about her. No sense of entitlement that some gorgeous women demanded. She appeared homespun to him and that just added to his desire for her.

      “How did you know my name?”

      “When you were unconscious, I pulled out your dog tags.” He motioned to them hanging outside her flight suit. “I called my master chief, reported what happened. Told him I had you and gave him your name and number. I didn’t want your husband and the rest of your family thinking you’d died in that crash.”

      Touched by his thoughtfulness, the honesty and concern in his gaze, she admitted, “I don’t have a husband.” Thank God for small and large favors. “And my father—” she shrugged painfully, her whole body feeling massively bruised “—he’ll see this as a pain in his ass, one that I’ve always been to him. It’s just one more thing he’s got to ‘handle.’” Bitterness coated her tone. “I don’t know whether he’ll be relieved or not.”

      Stunned by her admission, Kell sat down, crossing his legs, his long, spare hands resting over his knees. He saw grief in Leah’s eyes, even though she tried to sound tough, as if she didn’t care. But she did. He could feel it.

      Kell couldn’t be dishonest with himself. He was glad to hear she wasn’t married, but that surprised the hell out of him. “I can’t think any parent wouldn’t want to know their child was safe.”

      Mouth thinning, she sighed. “Not all families are happy families, Kell.”

      “If you don’t have a husband, then maybe a significant other?”

      “No.” Her voice hardened. “I don’t ever want to be in a marriage or a relationship ever again.”

      Chills went through Kell. The look in her eyes was that of a trapped animal who hadn’t been able to escape. And then he remembered the name she’d cried out during the nightmare: Hayden. Was that her ex-husband? “What about a mother?”

      “Dead,” Leah said, closing her eyes for a moment, wanting the pain in her head to reduce. “She’s better off that way.”

      “Sorry to hear that,” Kell said, meaning it.