Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(85)

“I’ve already called the local DEA office.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he steered her toward the elevator. “All I have to do is stay alive until they raid the compound.”

“Is that all?”

The door opened and they stepped in.

Stella turned to face him. “You are not expendable.”

“OK.”

“I mean it, Mac.” She splayed a hand in the center of his chest. “I care about you. You have to promise me to use the same caution that you expect from me.”

She cared about him.

“All right. I promise.”

The tension left her body in one exhalation. “No more skulking around dark alleys alone?”

“No.”

The doors opened. She leaned on his shoulder as they walked arm in arm to the exit. Despite her clear exhaustion, her pallor, her distress, he absorbed strength from her embrace.

Outside, they walked to her vehicle. Mac took her keys and then drove out of the parking lot. “Do you want to go home?”

Stella held her hands out and looked down at her clothes as if just realizing she was covered in dried blood. “Not like this. I’ll scare the kids. Where’s your bike?”

“I came with Grant.” Mac drove to his cabin, where he took her into the bedroom. Piling clean towels next to the sink, he began undressing her with efficiency. No pausing to enjoy the show this time. He wanted to inspect every inch of her skin for wounds. Adrenaline was almost as good as lidocaine for numbing injuries.

She stared at the opposite wall, her eyes vacant as he peeled off her blouse. Red patches blooming on her skin would probably be bruises tomorrow. But no bullet holes. Unzipping her slacks, he slid them down her legs. A trickle of red ran from her ankle into her shoe. “You’re bleeding.”

“I didn’t feel that.” Her brow knitted.

Mac knelt to inspect her foot. An inch long splinter of wood was embedded in the soft skin just above her ankle. “This is going to hurt if I pull it out. Do you want me to run you back to the hospital?”

“No. Just do it.”

“You’d better sit down.” Guiding her to the edge of the tub, he reached under the sink for his first aid kit. The wound was shallow but it was going to bleed when he removed the chunk of wood. He guided her foot over the edge of the tub and put on the surgical gloves from the kit. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

Mac gripped the edge of the splinter and tugged it free in one pull. Breath hissed from Stella’s lips and her face went as white as the porcelain sink. “Now it hurts.”

He’d rather have a hundred chunks of wood dug out of his own skin than ever see her in pain again. Blood rushed from the wound. Mac let it flow for a minute to flush any dirt from the wound.

“If the bleeding doesn’t stop, we might have to get it closed with a stitch.” He started the water in the tub. When it ran warm, he guided her foot under the stream and cleaned the injury with soap and water.

“Can I just get in the shower?”

“Of course.” Mac yanked the curtain across and switched the water to the overhead spray.

Stella unsnapped her bra, shimmied out of her panties, and with Mac’s help, stepped into the shower.

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

Mac peered around the edge of the curtain. She stood with her back to the spray, head tipped back, water sluicing over her long limbs. Pink ran from her body into the tub. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze, as if just noticing he was watching her. “What?”

“I was afraid you would fall down.”

“Me, too.” Stella reached for the shampoo. “But I’m all right.”

“You and Brody weren’t wearing your vests.”

“We were just going to interview an old man.” Stella rinsed her hair.

Mac handed her the soap. She scrubbed her entire body twice. She started lathering for a third round, and he took it away. “You’re not going to have any skin left.”

By the time he helped her from the tub, the bleeding on her leg had slowed. Mac wrapped her in a thick towel. Drying the wound, he closed it with a butterfly bandage, applied antibacterial ointment, and wrapped her ankle in gauze.

“I’m impressed. Let me guess, the Colonel trained you as a medic.”

“Basic emergency first aid is crucial for any survival training.” Mac closed the first aid kit. “How does that feel?”

“It hurts, but I’ll live.”

Mac scooped her into his arms.

“I can walk.”

“I know.” He carried her to the bed. Laying her down, he stretched out next to her.

“I have to go back to the station.” She nestled her head onto his shoulder. “Chief Horner will be freaking out.”

“He can freak out for a few minutes.” He wrapped his arm around her body and pulled her close. He wanted full body contact, to feel the beat of her heart, the rise and fall of her chest, to know that she was alive. “I need to hold you. Is that OK?”

She draped her arm across his chest and wiggled closer, her legs moving as if restless.

Mac stroked her arm. “Is something wrong?”

“You confuse me.” She lifted her head.

Mac’s blue eyes worried. “In what way?”