Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(74)

“You just lost it,” she said.

He blinked in surprise. Had she read his thoughts? “What?”

She nodded toward his stick, now with just a smear of marshmallow at the tip. “Or you’re just lost in your thoughts.”

He took in the way the flames flickered across her face, gilding her like an angel. Yeah, he was lost all right. “Thinking about tomorrow, is all.”

“What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Can’t say. They want to capture your expression when I tell you.”

Her marshmallow dropped into the flame. “Oh, hell. On both accounts.”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “You’ll be fine. You did great today.”

“Hmph.” She speared another marshmallow, looking endearingly indignant. “Glad I could be so entertaining.” Her mouth turned into a smile in one second flat. “You know what I liked best?”

“What?”

“You laughing.”

He sat back. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head, giving him her full attention. “You have a great laugh. And a nice smile.”

He forced himself to look away from her beautiful face, staring into the fire. He’d heard that plenty…before. “Now I know you’re yanking my chain. My smile’s messed up. But it’s nice of you to say.” He’d purposely sat on her left tonight, so she’d only see the worst side.

“You think I’m yanking your chain? Griff, you’re a handsome man.”

He reached over and took hold of her bottle of water, sniffing it. “Hmm. I don’t smell any alcohol.”

She smacked his arm, pulling the bottle away. But she kept a grip on his arm so he couldn’t sit back. Her eyes searched his. “I’m serious. When you smile, your mouth tugs in this adorable way. Like this.” She tried to emulate this supposed adorable smile. “Haven’t you seen yourself smile?”

“I don’t look in the mirror much. Only enough to shave.” He rubbed the normal side, wondering what she’d think of the broken mirrors in his bathroom that revealed just his jaw and cheek.

She touched the side of his face, as she’d done earlier. He wanted to pull away, needed to for his own sanity. But hell if he could. “Why are you doing this? Touching me, telling me this?” His voice came out hoarse.

She feathered her fingers over his scarred cheek. “Because I want to.”

“Why?” he asked again, uncomfortable with the raw need to know so clear in his voice.

She placed her other hand on the good side of his face. “I feel a connection to you, Griff. Maybe because we both have scars.”

He couldn’t help the scoffing sound. “You’re perfect. You don’t have a lick of makeup on, and you’re so damned beautiful, it hurts to look at you.”

She gave him a soft smile, still brushing her fingers across his skin. He wanted to grab onto her hand and stop her because he was about to fall into the sensation. So simple, so innocent, and so powerful all at once. He hadn’t been touched by anyone but a doctor or nurse in over two years. That she was touching his scarred skin with such tenderness and reverence, he could barely stand it.

She unzipped her jacket, slowly, and pulled the two sides apart. The top beneath it dipped low, showing a hint of cleavage. But that’s not what riveted his attention. Faded red slashes marred her chest nearly up to her neck.

“I’ve been hiding from the world, too,” she whispered after a few moments. “Not just because of Eye.” Another few moments passed, and she said, “Say something.”

He’d forgotten to breathe. But even a long breath didn’t ease the ache in his chest. “He did this to you?” He had to hold back a string of curses unfit for a lady’s ears.

She nodded. “He was hiding in my apartment. When I came home from a night of partying with friends, he attacked me with a knife from my own kitchen. He’d called two days earlier—he always managed to get my phone number—furious because he’d seen an advertisement I’d done in a bra and underwear. That’s as undressed as I ever got, but it infuriated him. I called him a bully and a coward and hung up. That really pissed him off.”

Griff wanted to touch her the way she’d done to him, but he held his hands still on his thighs. “He tried to kill you?”

“No, he said he didn’t want to kill me. He wanted to give me scars so I couldn’t model anymore. So I wouldn’t ‘show off my body like a whore.’” She showed him the side of her hand where two more slash marks showed, then tilted her chin up to reveal another scar just beneath. “This is as far as he got. Then my roommate rushed in, after hearing my screams, and threw a lamp at Eye. That gave me the diversion I needed to get away, and Eye took off. He wore a mask, so I still couldn’t identify him.”

She pulled her knees up and hugged her legs close. “He got his way, and that’s what makes me the maddest. I’m not modeling. I’m hiding. I hate that he won.”

Griff felt the same anger burn inside him. “We definitely need to take this son of a bitch out.”

“So you see, Griff, we both suffered bodily injury at someone else’s hand. We’re both hiding because of it.”

He flattened his hand on his chest. “But the suicide bomber did what he did because of some ideal, as screwed up as it is. He wasn’t tormenting us for some sick pleasure.”