Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(73)

They were the same men he’d pounded on when he’d found them talking about Sahara after locking her in a basement. Men who worked with Ross Moran.

So much for the bastard not hurting her.

He watched until he couldn’t see the truck anymore, then turned back to Sahara’s car. She was behind the wheel, the car in gear and her foot on the brake.

It reassured him that she had listened and was ready to react. Now he knew he could trust her to be reasonable when necessary. Keeping an eye on the road, Brand headed to the driver’s side.

Sahara immediately put the car in Park. Eyes sparking and with a slight tremor to her voice, she climbed out, shouting, “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Bemused, Brand murmured, “So much for being reasonable.”

When she faced him defiantly, Brand sucked in his breath.

“Damn.” Until that moment, he hadn’t realized that she’d hit her head. A thin trail of blood cut down her forehead, across one eyebrow, then along her temple. It came from a swelling lump on the right side of her forehead. “You’re hurt!”

Mouth tight, she blinked at him. “That sounds like an accusation.” She thrust a finger at his chest. “I can’t help it that my head bumped the window. It’s fine.”

“You’re not fine, damn it.” He pulled off his shirt and reached for her. “You’re bleeding.”

She took a swift step back. “Don’t you dare soil your shirt! We’re already going to be late getting to the party. I don’t want you showing up shirtless.”

Incredulous, Brand stared at her. Adrenaline still pumped through his blood, and he could barely focus around the rage burning through him. “It’s not a party,” he gritted out, “and we’re heading to the hospital to have you checked.” Again, he reached for her.

She bumped into the open door. Holding up a hand, she said, “I have tissues in the car so I don’t need your shirt, and we’re not going to the hospital. If I tell you I’m fine, then I’m fine.”

Brand lifted her chin, winced at the expanding bruise and made a decision. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pull the boss card.”

With a gasp, she asked, “To insist on the hospital? No.”

“We agreed—”

“I want to go to the party. I really do. Why can’t you just trust me when I say that I’m okay?”

It wasn’t a damned party, and she was hurt, but her blue eyes pleaded with him. He wasn’t a big enough dick to insist when she’d obviously been looking forward to a day out.

Against his better judgment, he said, “You’ll tell me if you start to feel sick, if your head hurts or if you get dizzy?”

“Yes, I promise.”

He blew out a breath. “I do trust you, so if you say you’re not hurt that bad, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Thank you.” She smiled now that she’d gotten her way. “I actually have a first aid kit in the trunk. I just need a bandage or something.”

Or something. “Remember, if you start to feel bad in any way, we’re going.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Thrusting a hand into his hair, he growled with impotent frustration. She was the most infuriating, unique, incredible woman...

Just then Justice came around the corner, saw them and pulled up at the side of the road.

He whistled when he got out. “Damn, Sahara. You okay?”

Happy now that she’d gotten her way, she all but sang, “Yes, of course,” and went around to the passenger side to get the tissues while Brand opened the trunk.

“She bumped her head,” Brand explained to Justice, watching as Fallon hurried to join Sahara. “I wanted to take her to the hospital—”

“And she refused.” Justice nodded. “Yeah, Sahara isn’t a wimp, but she is god-awful stubborn. It’d probably require a severed limb for her to willingly go.”

Another surge of anger cut through him. “Probably. Help me keep an eye on her, okay?”

“You bet.”

“Did you see the truck?” Brand found the kit and went around to the passenger side.

“Driving like a bat out of hell, one tire blown. I’d have given chase but—”

“You have Fallon with you.”

“Yeah.” Justice added, “Plus I wasn’t sure what had happened with you two, whether or not you needed help.”

While Brand used a premoistened antiseptic swab to clean away the blood from her face, Sahara detailed the “adventure” with enthusiasm. “I was so impressed with Brand’s driving. He’s as good as I am, and you know I don’t give that compliment lightly.”

Justice snorted. “You’re a lunatic. I’m still traumatized from the time you decided we were being chased.”

She grinned. “I thought we were.”

“Bull. You just wanted to show off.”

Her grin widened even more. “You could be right.”

Brand had difficulty breathing, so he sure as hell couldn’t grin. She was hurt, bruised and bleeding. The attacks were adding up. No one knew when the next might happen, or how much worse it might be.

How could she keep joking?

Fallon, Justice’s fiancée, joined them, her soft eyes concerned. “At least you didn’t get much blood in your hair.”