Into the Lair (Falcon Mercenary Group #2)(24)

She tried to crawl toward the cat as he lay panting.

“Keep her away,” Jonah barked.

Eli hauled her back against his chest.

“Not now, sugar,” he murmured. “D will be all right. Let them take care of him.”

“I want this room secured,” Jonah ordered as he stood. He stalked over to where Tyana lay in Eli’s arms and squatted down in front of her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded shakily.

“Get her out of here. I’m locking this room down until he shifts back,” Jonah told Eli.

It was useless for her to argue. For once, she knew there wasn’t anything she could do, no argument she could wage. D had finally slipped beyond control. Tears clogged her throat, squeezing, relentless. Grief welled, sharp, like a blade. Always, always she’d been there to comfort him, to shield him as he’d shielded her. Only now, they would be separated. Jonah would never leave them alone after what happened today.

Chapter Twelve

Katie huddled under the steaming hot spray of the shower and let it pelt her skin until it was pink and raw. Even after she’d lathered her hair twice and soaped her body repeatedly, she stood still as the water cascaded over her.

She didn’t want to move. Ever.

But she had a strong suspicion if she didn’t get out soon, one of them would come haul her out.

With a regretful sigh, she turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel. She dried briskly, taking care around the more tender parts. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she grimaced. Then she pulled the towel away and let her gaze trail down her body.

Her shoulders slid downward, and her eyes crossed with fatigue. She was starting to have some serious fantasies involving a pillow and a bed. Blankets were completely optional.

An irritated sigh escaped when she realized she’d neglected to bring clothes into the bathroom with her. And there was no way she was putting the nasty stuff she’d taken off back on.

She wrapped the towel around her and kept her arms pressed against the fabric so it had no chance of slipping down. Then she stuck her head out the door before exiting.

Braden was lying on the bed, eyes closed, and Ian was perched on the edge of the mattress, his expression brooding. Ian looked up at her, his eyes shuttered.

“I, uhm, just need to get some clothes,” she said in a low voice.

Ian stood. “Not yet.”

He walked toward her, and she blinked in surprise. His hand cupped her elbow, his touch gentle as he urged her toward the bed.

“You can keep the towel wrapped around you for now,” he said gruffly. “I need to tend to that cut on your foot, and then I’ll take a look at your arm.”

Braden opened his eyes and rolled to the edge of the bed before putting his feet down with a thud. He rubbed his face in a tired gesture then rose to stand beside her.

“Get the kit,” Ian told Braden.

Ian urged her down, and she sat awkwardly, keeping her gaze on her knees, bared just below the edge of the towel.

“Lay back and let me see your foot,” Ian directed.

She eyed him for a moment but did as he said. Her head bounced softly on the mattress as she settled down, and she focused on the ceiling.

Gentle hands covered the top of her foot and tilted it back as he examined the instep. His fingers were firm and warm against her skin.

Braden leaned over and took her arm, lifting as he examined the bruising and swelling.

How long had it been since she’d simply enjoyed the touch of another? Close proximity, the feeling of not being so terribly alone?

It was overwhelming and yet so deeply pleasurable that she couldn’t ask them to stop. She didn’t want them to stop.

These were concerned touches. Caring and light. There was no desperate mark of possession, no shouted words, no deep-seated insecurity.

She shivered even as she craved more.

Ian felt her tremble beneath his fingers. He saw raw vulnerability behind a flash of sudden tears, and it tore at his gut. Here was a woman unused to any sort of tenderness. She expected the worst, and it seemed she usually got it.

What the hell kind of life had she led, and why had Gabe left her to fend for herself?

Trying not to let himself be too affected, he put antiseptic on her cut and quickly bandaged it. Braden was carefully manipulating her arm, but other than a few winces, she didn’t seem too bothered by it.

He thrust the small bottle at Braden along with fresh bandages. “For her hand.”

Braden took the stuff from him and settled next to Katie, his hip close to her shoulder. Her fingers shook against Braden’s as he carefully pried them apart.

Ian eased down on her other side. “I need to look at your ribs, Katie,” he said in a low, soothing voice.

Color flooded into her cheeks, and her eyes flickered away, her gaze focusing on the wall.

Braden touched her cheek, running a finger down her delicate jawline. “Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly. “We just want to make sure you’re okay. I swear to you we won’t hurt you.”

She closed her eyes and slowly nodded.

Ian arranged the towel so that it hung loosely over her waist. He couldn’t cover her br**sts and her pelvis and felt she’d probably be the least embarrassed to have them staring at her br**sts.

Bruises were scattered along her ribcage, some the size of a fist, others smaller, purple fingerprints against pale skin. When he saw the dark smudges close to her ni**les, his jaw tightened in rage.