Banged Up (7 page)

“So what’s with the leg?” Colby asked, jolting him back to the present.

“I was shot.” Her question was so unexpected he answered before he could think about it. Damn.

Her brows lifted in surprise. “So you weren’t kidding? What, in a prison riot?” The color in her cheeks darkened when she realized what she had said. “I’m sorry. If you would just tell me what you do for a living, I’d knock it off.”

“Why is it so important? What if I just like to travel around like a bum?”

“Why would you want to when you have a nice home here?”

“I don’t know. I get bored?”

“No. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I won’t tell anyone. Promise.” She crossed her fingers and made an X with them over her heart.

Mace smiled at the gesture. He wanted to trust her. He really did. But after years and years of getting good at lies, it was hard to tell someone the truth. It was hard to step back into his “real life.” Or what he thought should be his real life.

“Can I see your leg?”

The question caught him off guard. Again. Mace put down the paring knife he was absently playing with—before he accidentally sliced off his finger. Did she want him to pull his pants down in the middle of the kitchen before dinner? Not that he minded stripping down for her, but he wanted to show her something besides his injury.

As if she read his mind, she quipped, “I don’t mean now. Later.”

“I thought you were a scientist. Not a doctor.”

“I’m still interested. A scientist is interested in all living things. And in this particular instance, I’m interested how metal affects human flesh.”

“Not very well, I can attest to that. It hurts and looks like hell. But if you really want to see it you have to promise to kiss it and make it better.”

She probably thought he was joking. He wasn’t. He believed if she would only place her sweet, luscious lips on his healing leg, all the hurt would disappear. Hell, it was worth a try.

“I promise.” She laughed.

Mace laughed too. She didn’t know he would make her keep her promise. “So tell me more about this Martin.”

She gave him her back. “He’s a nice guy I work with.”

And spent last Sunday morning with him at an auction and bargain hunting. Who knows what else. “Yeah, you already said that.”

“That about covers it.”

———

Colby looked up from the sitcom she was watching. The popcorn bowl she had balanced on her lap tilted dangerously. She caught it in time and placed it on the low coffee table which sat in front of the couch. “Oh, my God.”

Mace limped across the den toward her. He was wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts. And nothing else. “I told you it wasn’t pretty.”

“Who did this to you?” she whispered. She reached out when he neared. Wanting to touch, but unsure, afraid. Without hesitation he stepped into her touch, his eyes closing.

“Please be gentle with me.”

Colby looked at his face to see if he was teasing. He wasn’t. She could see the pain etched across his face. The muscles flexed in his jaw. She returned her attention to his leg, pushing the denim higher to get a better look. His thigh was little more than hamburger meat. The inner thigh muscle was half missing and she could see the outline of his thighbone. She could see what looked like seams to her, where the doctors had sewn the remaining skin together.

It must have been a hell of a big gun. She bit her lip, wondering how he could have endured the pain. “You’re lucky it wasn’t amputated.” Colby didn’t realize she had spoken aloud until she heard his snort and bitter words.

His dark eyes opened and bored into her. “I’m lucky the gun wasn’t pointed a few more inches to the left. I would have been missing something a little more important than a thigh muscle.”

He gritted his teeth and a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead when she cautiously, but lightly stroked the angry red skin with her fingertips. It was the softest touch but it still bothered him. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull away.

“Excuse me if I’m not very receptive to your soft touch right now. Normally I’d be at full attention.”

Colby immediately glanced at the V of his shorts, before looking away, heat crawling up her neck. She had fallen right into his trap. “Is that what I see you popping all the time—painkillers?”

“Do you blame me?”

“No. But there are more natural ways to ease pain. Herbal ways.”

“If you’re talking about holistic medicine, forget it. I’ll stick to the good ol’ American ways of popping a pill for every ache.” Mace dropped down on the couch beside her, dislodging her hand. He propped his leg on the table and picked up the remote control. “What are you watching?”

Colby snagged the remote out of his hands and switched the television off. She tossed it on the recliner a few feet away. Out of his reach. “No way. You are not getting out of this so easily. I want to know who did this and why.”

“Well, the
why
is easy. I’m sure a rocket—I mean biological—scientist can even figure that one out. He was trying to kill me.”

“Who? Why?” Why would anyone be trying to kill this man?

His hand dug harshly through his hair, leaving it looking like he had just gotten out of bed. “I can’t tell you the details, Colby. I can’t.” He grabbed the
TV Guide
from the coffee table, thumbed through it without really seeing its contents, before tossing it restlessly back onto the table.

“Are you a cop?”

Mace shook his head. He gave a longing look over at the remote.

“Are you in the armed forces?”

“No.” He looked up at the ceiling and let out a long breath. He was so searching for a distraction.

She wasn’t going to give it to him. “Am I going to have to play twenty questions with you?”

“No. I can tell you this.” He twisted toward her and pinned her with a stare. “I work for an agency.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Yeah, right. This guy was a secret agent.

Like James Bond, right? He had to be pulling her leg. She’d play along. “Agency? What kind of agency? A travel agency? A talent agency?”

“Come on, Colby,” he said, frowning. “It’s sort of secret. I do things which are classified. I can’t talk about.”

My God, it was true! Colby sank back into the couch. She couldn’t straighten out her thoughts. What did he mean? A “sort of” secret agency? No one was “sort of” a secret agent. Either you were or you weren’t. Was she living with some kind of spy? Was he working for some kind of government agency?

“Do you go undercover? Is that why you haven’t had contact with Maxi for two years?” Maybe he was undercover now. Who was he really? Was she in the middle of some sort of sting? Her heart started racing.

Mace groaned. “Colby, please don’t ask. I won’t be able to tell you and it’s better if you don’t know anyway.”

Colby turned to study his face. “Are you really Macen Walker, or is this some kind of alias? Are you really Maxi’s brother?”

Mace rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m really Macen Walker. I thought we went through this the first night.”

Colby suddenly felt horrible about the way she had treated him in the beginning.

“And I thought you were a criminal! Here you are risking your life—”

He placed a finger over her lips. “Shhh.”

She jerked her head away. “No, don’t shush me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for thinking you were a … a…”

“Colby, it’s all right. I’m a big boy; I can take a little ribbing.”

“No, it’s not all right. Here you are in constant pain. And don’t lie to me and say you aren’t. I wondered why you limped every once in a while. I wondered why you struggle to do something as easy as walking up the stairs…”

Colby felt the sting of tears. She was not going to cry. She was not. She did not want to look like a baby. An overemotional big baby.

Damn it
. She tried to catch a runaway tear but one escaped before she could brush it away.

—

Mace caught the tear on his finger and stared at it. He was touched by Colby’s emotion. No one but his sister had really cared about him in a long time. Or cared what happened to him. An unfamiliar ache swelled in his chest.

But he didn’t want to do this right now. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to open up an emotional Cracker Jack box. He’d only known this woman for a few days. He really needed his sister. This was the reason why he’d come home. He needed an emotional and a physical Band-Aid. “Don’t cry for me, Colby. I survived. Otherwise, we’d never have met. For some reason I think we can help each other right now. I’m trying to heal and I think you are too, in some way.”

Colby shook her head, but looked away.

Mace grasped her chin and turned her to look deeply into her eyes. “Yes, there’s something in there. Some kind of pain of your own. I think it’s the reason why you’re getting so involved in your house. Every little thing about that house is a crisis needing to be solved.” He stroked his thumb over her cheek. He caught her teary gaze before lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “Why? What has happened to you, Colby Parks?”

“N-nothing.”

He didn’t believe her. She had been hurt—maybe not like him, physically—but maybe mentally or emotionally. Not just hurt, but hurt badly. He had been hurt by people who hated him, could care less about him. He assumed she was hurt by someone she loved. Or cared for. Someone close to her.

Her reddened eyes matched the tip of her nose. A couple more tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. He desperately wanted to lean over and kiss those tears away. He wanted to haul her against him and hug her hard. To clasp her until the demons were squeezed out of both of them. He wanted to lose himself in her and just feel; forget everything else but the two of them. But he didn’t want to overwhelm her either, since he was so desperate for her touch. He didn’t trust himself if he reached out first. She had to make the first move.

She did.

Colby brushed the back of her fingers along his whiskered chin. Tilting her head, she followed her hand with her eyes.

Mace reached up and grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You promised to kiss it and make it feel better. I can understand if you don’t want to. It’s pretty hideous.”

Colby shook her head slightly. She stared at his misshapen thigh for a few seconds before leaning down and placing her warm lips against his skin.

Mace leaned back, closing his eyes. His hands dug into her hair, gripping her braid firmly. As Colby’s lips fluttered to different areas of his thigh, he released a groan. She turned her face and rubbed her soft cheek against his scarred skin.

“Oh, God, Colby. Don’t stop,” he whispered brokenly. “Please don’t stop.”

Colby turned her face again, until her other cheek rested on his leg. She looked up at him. Mace felt it and opened his eyes, looking into hers. Her tears had stopped. She looked and felt so good lying across his lap. He wanted to stay that way forever. His body had other ideas.

He took her hand, which was gripping his good thigh, and moved it over slightly until she could feel how much he wanted her. God, he wanted her. Right here, right now.

He wanted to plunge deep and hard into her softness and just lose himself.

Colby’s fingers closed around him through the soft worn denim of his shorts and he thrust upward. His breathing deepened and his head fell back against the couch. “Colby … let me go if you don’t want this to continue. It’s been a while since…”

“For me too.”

Her words caused hot lightning to shoot to every part of his body. He hooked his hands behind her elbows and drew her up. She was careful not to lean on his bad thigh.

Mace rolled the elastic band off the end of her French braid, releasing the cords of hair one by one. Her breathing had become shallow and her nipples were like pebbles ready to be touched—by his tongue, his lips and his hands. When he was finished undoing her braid, he spread her deep-red hair around her shoulders, holding a few strands to his nostrils and inhaling the sweet scent he was beginning to recognize as her own. “God, I want to feel this soft, glorious hair all over my body.”

With trembling hands, he slowly unbuttoned her blouse until it hung open, exposing her white, lacy bra. Her large, dark nipples were just visible through the delicate fabric.

Just enough to torture him. He drew a finger along the edges, barely touching her skin.

And when she arched her back, he couldn’t resist releasing the front clasp. Her breasts escaped and he sat back to just look at them. They were perfect in his eyes. Round and full, puckered with need.

He gently brushed a finger against one dark tip. Colby squirmed, whispering his name. She reached up, her hands delving into his hair, and pulled his face toward her. She showed him what she wanted, what she desired, but was unable to ask for.

Mace flicked his tongue out, tasting one flushed bud, then the other. Slowly he drew a nipple into his mouth, savoring the taste and feel. Colby gripped his head tightly, holding him where she wanted him. She tilted her head back to give him full access. He used the advantage, loving one, then the other, over and over until Colby bucked against him and cried out. She was on the brink of release.

It wouldn’t take much for him either. His cock was so hard, wanting to get out, wanting a release of its own. He knew he had to keep control but it was hard. So hard.

“Colby, I don’t know if I can…”

Colby placed her lips against his, stopping his words. He savored her sweet mouth, drawing her lower lip in and nibbling on it. His tongue dipped in, swirling against hers.

He moved his hands to her hips. He wanted her on top of him, straddling him. He wanted her hot pussy pressed against his cock, even if there was a layer of clothes between them.

Mace was easing her closer when he stiffened and cursed. “Damn it!” He leaned back away from her, breaking their contact. His attempt to laugh it off failed miserably.

The cramp in his thigh was too overwhelming; the pain was sharp, shooting through his remaining muscles like lightning. He dropped his head. In regret, in embarrassment. In frustrating unmet need.
Fuck
.

“I’m sorry, Colby. There’s one feeling which overcomes desire and it’s pain.”