Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7) (19 page)

The pain was driving him out of his fucking mind.

He knew it was going to hurt. Hell, he wasn't that stupid. But he never imagined the raw, searing, burning pain that was shooting through him now. His skin felt like it had been ripped off, put through a meat grinder, doused with alcohol, and shoved back in place.

How in the hell was he supposed to follow through with his plans tonight when all he could think about was the burning on his chest? He should have listened to the guys. Should have waited, or picked something a little smaller, or had it done in segments instead of all at once.

Fuck that. The idea of going back before it healed, of having new pain layered on top of old pain. No. No way in fucking hell.

He just wished it didn't hurt quite so much because it was screwing up his whole night.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

Nicole tilted her head, disbelief clear on her face. She was curled up in the corner of the sofa, one arm draped over the edge, the other holding a throw pillow against her chest.

It wasn't just disbelief that he saw. No, there was confusion on her face as well. In her eyes as she watched him, like she didn't quite believe him, like she knew something was wrong but didn't know what. The confusion had been there for the last hour, ever since he'd bolted from the sofa and moved away from her, to the safety of the overstuffed chair. He hadn't meant to, hadn't even thought of what he was doing. They had been sitting there, talking about her day as she reluctantly admitted that she'd actually had fun shopping. The television was turned on, the volume down so it wouldn't interfere with their conversation.

Then Nicole slid closer to him, her eyes darkening as she leaned in and pressed her mouth against his. Warm, delicious. Needy. Mat had groaned, pulled her closer, thinking he shouldn't have worried about what he planned to do because maybe Nicole had the same ideas.

And then she put her hand on his chest, right above his heart like she usually did. Burning, searing pain shot through him and he jumped off the sofa so fast, he nearly knocked her over in his haste to get to the chair.

That's when she slid over to the corner and grabbed the throw pillow, holding it to her like some kind of shield. Except for grabbing the remote and nudging the volume up, she hadn't moved since. And Mat was still in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. He had shifted around so much he was actually sitting on the edge, in real danger of falling off. He didn't care, not when all he wanted to do was rip his shirt off and pile ice on his chest.

How the fuck was he supposed to know getting a tattoo would hurt so fucking much?

He pulled at the shirt, wincing as the material stuck to the raw skin for just a second before peeling away. What the hell was he supposed to do now? His mind was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out how to salvage the night and put his plans in motion. There had to be a way for him to follow-through that didn't involve sheer agony and torture.

He shifted again, catching himself at the last minute before he fell out of the chair. Nicole looked over at him again, her brows lowered in a frown.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." Fuck. No, he wasn't fine. He needed to put more of that greasy lotion on his chest, maybe a cool washcloth, too. Kenny said that would help if he really needed it.

Yeah, right now, he really needed it. Maybe, once he cooled it down and put some lotion on it, got some of the stinging to disappear, he could focus on the rest of his plans for tonight.

He pushed out of the chair, wincing when his shirt brushed across his chest, then hurried to the stairs. "I, uh, I'll be back. I need to go do something."

Mat didn't even wait for Nicole to answer, just hit the stairs running, not stopping until he was in his bathroom. He ripped the shirt off, his arms tangling in the sleeves. He yanked on it, hard, and heard a tearing sound as he pulled it over his head. Then he reached for a washcloth and held it under the faucet. Why the hell was the water so warm?

He checked, making sure the faucet was turned all the way to cold. Yeah, it was. Shit. Usually it was colder than this, wasn't it?

Or maybe he was just doing some serious wishful thinking because right now, he wasn't even sure if ice would be cold enough to help.

He twisted the excess water from the washcloth then slapped it on his chest, praying for a miracle. One second. Two. Five…there, finally. Mat breathed a sigh of relief, the sound echoing off the marble around him. He sagged against the counter, closing his eyes as the stinging slowly, so slowly, eased up.

"Mat? I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Nicole's voice drifted in, so faint against the running water that he almost missed it. He reached for the faucet, turning it off.

"Wait!" His voice came out as a croak. He cleared his throat and called out again, a little louder, hoping she'd hear him. "Nicole, wait. I didn't hear you."

"I just said I was going to bed. Goodnight."

"But it's still early." He glanced at his watch, just in case. It was only a little after nine. Later than he thought it was, but still too early.

"It's been a long day, I'm a little tired."

Her voice had faded. Was she moving down the hall? Moving toward her room?

No. No, no, no. This was not how the night was supposed to go. Not even close.

"Nicole, wait. Uh, could you come here for a minute?" Oh yeah, smooth. Real smooth. What was he going to do, try to seduce her in the bathroom?

He moved the washcloth from his chest and glanced in the mirror, did a double-take. Holy shit, was it supposed to be all red and puffy like that? He tilted his chin and looked down at his chest, just in case he was seeing things. No, the mirror didn't lie—his chest really was that red and puffy. And oozy. Shit. He touched it with the tips of his fingers then let out a loud hiss.

"Did you need something?"

"Uh, yeah." Nicole was in his room now, maybe two feet from the bathroom, judging by the sound of her voice. He reached back and nudged the door closed a little, just so she couldn't see in. Lotion. Where the hell did he put that lotion?

"Mat?"

"Yeah, just a sec." He reached for the tube, his fingers just brushing against it and knocking it to the floor. He bent over, banging his head against the counter in the process. "Fucking shit. Dammit."

"Mat? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. Hang on." Son of a bitch, that hurt. He'd be lucky if he didn't have a bump on his head in the morning from that one.

He grabbed the tube then opened it, squeezed some of the thick clear lotion onto his fingers. Now all he had to do was smear it over the tattoo.

Which meant he had to touch it.

Shit, this was going to hurt.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slapped his hand against his chest, thinking if he did it fast, it would hurt less. It was the worst thing he could do, touching his chest like that.

The breath rushed from his lungs in a sharp hiss. Loud, drawn out, like the air rushing from a balloon. Christ, he sounded like a fucking sissy but he couldn't help it. It fucking hurt. He'd rather take a puck to the throat or a stick to his arm or a blade to his face than deal with this.

"Mat? Are you okay?" Nicole's voice, full of concern, was closer now, her steps just outside the bedroom. He saw her hand curl around the edge of the door, watched from the mirror as the door swung open. Slow, like she wasn't quite sure what to expect.

He wanted to slam the door shut but he couldn't do that, not with Nicole already standing in the doorway. He could move, turn so his back was to her, but even that wouldn't work, not with the mirrors surrounding him.

So he just stood there, the tube of lotion in one hand, the other hand smeared with the greasy stuff and hovering just above his chest. He tried to hide his disappointment, tried not to look deflated when she pushed the door all the way open, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.

He had wanted to surprise her, hoping she'd understand the significance, hoping it would mean as much to her as it did to him.

Hoping that it would make it easier to tell her what he wanted to tell her.

But he blew it. Yeah, some surprise. Some romantic he was.

He dropped his hands to his side and turned, facing her but not quite able to meet her eyes. "I, uh, wanted to surprise you but—I don't think it turned out like it was supposed to."

Yeah, that was putting it mildly. Not with all the red puffiness and raw skin and dots of oozing blood and splotch of greasy lotion.

Mat looked down at the tube in his hand, still not able to look at Nicole, not with her standing there, completely silent. Her silence was saying more than enough. He sighed and turned away, putting the lid back on the tube before tossing it to the counter. Now what? He was an ass, that's what. An ass with a raw, shredded chest.

"You got a tattoo." Nicole's shocked whisper echoed around him. He shrugged, not knowing what to make of the words, not understanding the tone of her voice.

"Yeah. This afternoon. While you were out shopping."

"It's—" Her voice faltered. Mat wished he could see her face but he couldn't look at her, not yet. "Oh my God, Mat. It's…it's…"

"Yeah. Pretty bad, huh?"

"Are you serious? It's beautiful!" Her voice cracked again, ending in a choked sob. Mat turned, saw the tears in her eyes and the small smile that trembled on her lips. He blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out, not quite touching his chest. Her fingers shook and she lowered her arm, curling her hand into a loose fist.

Then her eyes drifted up to meet his gaze. Beautiful amber eyes, lit from within, their color almost the same as the eyes of the dragon covering the left side of his chest, over his heart.

"I can't believe you did this. It's…Mat, it's beautiful. And…" Her voice cracked and trailed off again. Panic seized him when he saw the tear falling from her eye. Just a single tear, slowly tracing its way down her cheek. He reached out, wiping it away with his thumb.

"If it's supposed to be that nice, why are you crying?"

"Because—it's a dragon. A beautiful, wonderful, majestic dragon." She tried to smile but it wavered again, not quite blooming into the full smile he wanted to see, had hoped to see.

"Of course it's a dragon. You like dragons."

"You got this…you did this for me?"

"Yeah. I thought—I mean, I just wanted…" Why were the words so hard to find? They shouldn't be. He had this all planned out, had envisioned how the night was going to go, how he was going to surprise her.

Of course the words wouldn't come. Nothing else had worked out like he planned, why would finding the words be any different?

She reached out with her hand again, her trembling fingers tracing the intricate designs without really touching them. The rearing head, proudly held high. The wings, not quite extended for flight, a paler green than the dragon's graceful body. The long tail, trailing just a bit across Mat's ribs.

And the dragon's clawed hands, carefully folded around an amber heart, the color perfectly matching the eyes of the dragon.

She looked up at him, her trembling fingers still hovering near his chest. "I can't believe you did this. For me. I don't understand. Why would you do something like this?"

"You don't like?"

"No, I do. It's—" She cleared her throat, glanced back at his chest then met his gaze. "It's beautiful. You have no idea what it means. I just…I don't understand why."

Mat swallowed, searching for courage, praying the words would come out right. He grabbed her hand, holding it between his. "You said dragons weren't real. In the hospital. I thought—I just wanted—"

Another deep breath. But God, it was so hard to breathe, not when she was looking up at him like that, her beautiful amber eyes shining, filling with tears as she chewed on her lower lip. Waiting. Hoping? He didn't know, could only hope himself.

He took another deep breath, released it slowly as something warm and peaceful descended over him. This was right. What he was feeling was right. Being here, with Nicole, was right.

"I wanted to show you that dragons do exist. That you shouldn't give up on believing." He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers, the touch feather light. He lowered his voice to a whisper, soft. "I love you, Nicole."

Her hand tensed, her grip tight against his. He felt her shift, felt her try to take a step back. Mat closed his eyes. He'd blown it. He shouldn't have told her, not yet. It was too soon. She probably thought he was crazy, was probably wondering how soon she could pack and leave and—

"You love me?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said—" His words were cut-off, stopped by the press of her lips against his. Soft, warm, tender. Mat sighed and pulled her closer, teasing the seam of her lips with his tongue until her mouth opened under his. And then he was kissing her, losing himself in her sweet fire, drinking her surrender even as he offered her his own.

But then she pulled away, her face flushed as she stared up at him.