Cowboy In The Crossfire(6)

That hurt.

"When did you get shot?" he muttered.

The agonizingly long trip flashed through her mind. Town after town. Dairy Queen after Dairy Queen. Ethan being as patient as a five-year-old could, as if he understood she only had small reserves left. "I don't know. Sixteen, eighteen hours. Forever. The storm slowed us to a crawl. Five miles an hour some stretches."

"You should have stopped."

He pressed against the fevered skin, and slowly, painfully worked the dried, blood-soaked scarf away from the wound. She winced at each tug, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream. She held her breath until finally he pulled away the last of the material.

She sagged in relief.

"Luckily the bullet didn't lodge inside. Bad news is the wound is inflamed. I've got ointment, Amanda, but you need a doctor. And antibiotics."

"Doctors report gunshot wounds."

"So do sheriffs." He explored the area one last time, then sucked in a slow breath. "Brace yourself."

The cold sting of peroxide hissed on her skin. She clutched at the sheets and bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. She didn't know how close Ethan was. She couldn't let him see her like this. He'd been through enough.

Blake quickly rubbed on antibiotic ointment, then covered the wound with a pad. "I need to secure the dressing. Sit up for me."

He supported her back as she rose. When she was steady, he unfastened the remainder of the buttons on her shirt. Her cheeks burned. She hadn't been able to wear a bra since it happened, and there was no getting around him touching her as he quickly wrapped the bandage around her torso.

Finally, he secured a last piece of tape. With jerky movements he rose from the bed and grabbed a large Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt from the drawer. "You can wear this. Your son doesn't need to see all that blood."

Hovering over her, Blake eased the soiled material off with the prowess of a cowboy who'd undressed his share of women. His touch lingered on her naked back before he choked out a cough and slipped on the clean, dry sweatshirt.

The awareness between them sizzled. She chanced a look over her shoulder. She'd never seen Blake more uncomfortable as he eased away from the bed. He planted himself in the center of the bedroom and crossed his arms, piercing her with a glare she welcomed. If he'd smiled or given her a soft, sexy grin, she might have done something stupid.

"Thank you." She lifted her gaze and saw his cheeks flush before he turned on her.

"We're not finished yet." He stiffened his back. "I have some antibiotics in the barn. I'll be right back."

She heard the door open, and the harsh whistling of wind sounded from the other room before the oak slammed closed. He was going out into this monster storm. For her.

Who did that?

No one she knew, that's for sure.

She rubbed her eyes. She had to think clearly. She was a fugitive, but Blake didn't need to know that. She just had to keep her wits about her, get well and move on. Don't let herself be taken in by a man who was like a hero out of a fairy tale. One step at a time, and she could put some miles between her and Blake. A lot of miles if she had her way.

She twisted, testing the bandage, trying once again to sit up.

"You're gonna undo all my handiwork."

Blake strode into the room, holding a prescription bottle and a glass of water. "The antibiotics were for the foal, but it's better than nothing. Should be the right dose."

"You want to feed me horse pills? Are you crazy?"

"You wanted my help. It's this or a doctor. You've got a fever."

She studied his face and could see he was deadly serious. Showing herself at any medical facility would put a target on her and Ethan. She had to stay under the radar for as long as she could. She wasn't the criminal.

Well, not exactly. And certainly not voluntarily.

She snagged the pill and swallowed it with a grimace.

Blake studied her, his expression unwavering and speculative. "Just how much trouble are you in, Amanda? You take a horse pill to avoid the hospital, you drive eighteen hours in an ice storm after a bullet cut a furrow in your side. What are you doing here? Is your brother going to knock on my door next?"

So much for the fairy tale. She lifted her chin and swiped at her hair. "Vince is dead."

The muscle of his jaw throbbed briefly. The only sign he cared at all.

"Aren't you going to say anything? He was your best friend."

"Best friend?" Blake crossed his arms, his expression grim. "Really? Is that what he was when he sold me out? When he didn't show up for my son's funeral?"

"He didn't think you'd want him there."

"He was right."

Amanda rubbed her hands over her eyes to keep from looking into his perceptive gaze. He'd recognize the guilt, the secret knowledge. "There was never any proof Vince gave Internal Affairs evidence against you."

"Only one person could've set me up to take the fall. Vince. You can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime." Blake leaned over the bed, crowding her. She shrank back against the sheets.

"Don't hurt my mommy!"

Ethan launched across the room, the dog racing after him. The boy grabbed Blake around the legs and started pounding at him. The sight of her usually gentle son taking all his anger and fear out on Blake savaged Amanda's soul. Would he ever be the same after what he'd seen? She shoved off the bed as Blake stopped and calmly grasped Ethan's arms.