Wild for Him (3 page)

As he set down a large box of medical supplies, his damp shirt stretched across his back, drawing her attention.

Mercy.

She’d seen a lot of impressive physiques at Native Ink. San Diego was full of hot men, and she’d tattooed some gorgeous bodies. So why was she panting over Mitch Stone? He had a nice canvas, but she wasn’t going to work on it.

Her reaction to him felt strange and wrong. Maybe it was her mind’s way of taking the focus off the devastation all around them. She couldn’t deal with so much death and suffering. His well-developed muscles were a convenient distraction.

She remained active throughout the day, handing out bandages and cleaning minor wounds. There were more injuries than the medical professionals could keep up with. Survivors continued to arrive in large, weary groups. They needed food and water and rest. Busses were overloaded and rescue workers were overwhelmed.

And this was only the tip of the iceberg.

The real disaster area was miles away, at the epicenter. Gwen had heard about massive fires and collapsed buildings. She imagined people stuck in the rubble, bodies burning. There were bridges and freeways down.

When she finally got a break, it was early evening. Mitch finished bringing in a load of supplies and joined her at station 12. Dinner had been served an hour ago. There was still a food line, but it was short. Stomach rumbling, she shuffled through the line with Mitch. They accepted cold sandwiches and lukewarm sodas.

She sat down next to him and devoured her sandwich, along with a small bag of chips. The sugary soda gave her a much-needed energy boost. She hadn’t slept at all last night and she didn’t think she’d fare any better tonight.

She glanced at Mitch, wondering if he planned to lie down. There were hundreds of tents and cots sets up on the field, but she didn’t think there was space available. People were sleeping in the stands, sprawled across seats in the bleachers. She longed to rest, too. She wanted to close her eyes and feel strong arms around her.

She might be able to leave tomorrow, after fresh volunteers arrived. There weren’t enough busses for everyone and those with serious injuries were being transported first. Able-bodied residents had the option to stay here at the stadium or continue walking to the next rescue center, ten miles away.

“What are you going to do tonight?” she asked.

He just shrugged, looking across the crowded area. He had close-cropped brown hair, thinning on top, and intelligent blue eyes. A square jaw, covered in stubble. It wasn’t the kind of face that women swooned over, but she liked his features. His disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes tugged at her heartstrings. She felt a stab of guilt for checking him out.

He was here for Helena.
Her best friend, Helena
.

“Have you heard anything?” she asked.

“No. You?”

Gwen shook her head. Her cell wasn’t working. “She might be on her way here.”

“She might be.”

By the way he avoided her gaze, Gwen assumed that he was planning to sneak past the barricade and go on a foolhardy rescue mission. He probably couldn’t be talked out of it. “Do you really think she’s in danger?”

“I don’t know.”

She waited for him to elaborate.

“I have to do something.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

Gwen softened with sympathy. “You couldn’t have prevented the earthquake.”

“Maybe not, but I can turn things around. I can make it right.”

She gave him a doubtful look.

His eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on.”

“I have to follow girl code. You should ask her how she feels, not me.”

“Girl code,” he muttered, his mouth twisting. “Is she seeing someone else?”

Gwen was shocked by the question. “Are you?”

“Fuck no.”

She believed him. “Helena’s not either.”

He shook his head in frustration. “What should I do?”

Gwen couldn’t offer any advice because there was no solution to this problem. Helena wouldn’t leave her job for Mitch. In Gwen’s opinion, Helena wasn’t in love with him anymore. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

“I might be able to move back,” he said.

“Really?”

“My boss is considering an expansion site in Southern California. I wasn’t going to tell Helena until I knew for sure.”

This was his only hope for salvaging their relationship. Gwen finished her soda, contemplative.

“You think it’s too late?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Why did you ask if I was cheating?”

“No reason.”

“There’s a reason.”

“It’s just that cheaters tend to suspect others of cheating,” she said, waving a hand. “They assume everyone does it.”

“You mean Brian?”

Her ex. Gwen was still bitter about him, and it had been three years since their breakup. “He used to accuse me, yeah.”

“That guy was a fucking asshole.”

“Yes.”

“You should’ve let me beat him up.”

“Probably,” she said with a tired smile. “I appreciated the offer.”

“Anytime,” he replied, smiling back at her.

The sight made her heart thump hard in her chest. She’d forgotten that he’d offered to knock Brian’s block off after Gwen caught him with another woman. Mitch wasn’t the brawling type, but he clearly had protective instincts. He looked like he could handle himself in a fight. Her gaze dropped from his boyish grin to his strong forearms. Nothing boyish about those. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, exposing sinewy muscles and thick wrists. Veins stood out on the backs of his hands.

She glanced away, flushing. What was wrong with her? She had to get a grip and stop staring at him like this.

“You should get some rest,” he said.

“So should you. I’m not the one who’s been acting like He-Man all day.”

He sputtered in surprise. “You asked me to help.”

She realized that she sounded ridiculous. She’d practically called him a show-off. “Sorry. You did a good job.”

“Too good?”

Now he was teasing her. “Don’t get a fat head, Mitch.”

His eyes darkened as if she’d said something suggestive. Then he rose from the aluminum bench, moistening his lips. “I have to go.”

She didn’t argue, although she had a bad feeling about his plan. There might be looters and gang members roaming the streets. It wasn’t safe for him to travel alone at night though an area that looked like a warzone.

She also questioned his motives. Mitch seemed to think that Helena needed him, and maybe she did. But Helena was no delicate flower, and he seemed driven by insecurity, rather than concern for her welfare.

“I’ll be okay,” Mitch said.

“Text me if you can.”

He nodded curtly. She walked with him to the edge of the station. Although she tried to hide them, her stupid emotions got the better of her again. She didn’t want him to leave—he was the only person she knew here. Tears of exhaustion and defeat filled her eyes. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear. Then he turned and strode away, leaving her in a crowd of strangers.

***

M
ITCH DIDN’T KNOW
what the fuck he was doing.

Kissing Gwen on the cheek? He didn’t even kiss Helena on the cheek.

Maybe that was the problem. He’d never been romantic. He wasn’t demonstrative. He kept his emotions close to the vest, where he could guard them. Public displays of affection and overblown gestures weren’t his style. So why was he riding to Helena’s rescue like a white knight?

He didn’t feel brave. He felt desperate, as if he was running away from something. Escaping a dangerous situation, rather than taking control.

He shook off the discomfort in annoyance as he walked across the huge parking lot. Leaving Gwen didn’t sit well with him, but staying with her tonight wasn’t an option. He’d been having strange thoughts about her. Strange,
dirty
thoughts. It was probably just a symptom of his strained relationship with Helena.

He’d noticed Gwen’s face and figure before. He wasn’t the type of guy who drooled over his girlfriend’s friends, but admiring a pretty woman wasn’t a crime. She had a great smile, smooth skin, glossy black hair. Men stared at her wherever she went. He’d seen their eyes following her. They looked at Helena, too.

Men noticed beautiful women. It was normal.

Gwen seemed extra tempting right now because he didn’t have a history with her. There was no baggage between them, no embarrassing failures. He’d always had a strong sexual appetite, barring the rough patch he’d hit last year. Now his dick wanted to get back in action. He also hadn’t touched a woman in months, and he was lonely. He had to get away from Gwen before he did something he regretted.

Although he hadn’t slept in 36 hours, he was filled with nervous energy. He left the bright lights of the football stadium and headed west. There were groups of people shuffling toward the evacuation center. Weary travelers, cloaked in darkness. If they wondered why he was walking the opposite direction, they didn’t ask.

After he’d gone several miles, he stopped seeing evacuees. Those who hadn’t reached their destination had sought shelter for the night. The stragglers were the last of the city’s displaced residents. There were some stubborn people who’d decided to stay and protect their homes or businesses. Others were injured and unable to move.

The damage grew increasingly worse. There was rubble on the sidewalk and buckled asphalt everywhere. The air grew thick with smoke. He was beginning to think he’d have to turn around and look for another route. Then he spotted a group of young men in the middle of the street, carrying baseball bats.

They didn’t appear to be evacuating.

Shit.

Mitch was a big man who rarely had to worry about his personal safety, but this was an unusual situation. There was no law here. He didn’t want to get jumped. Police officers and other first responders were saving lives at the epicenter.

Instead of continuing towards the threat, he ducked behind a tree in someone’s front yard. The group of men stormed down the street, the lower halves of their faces covered in handkerchiefs. They might actually be protecting the neighborhood, rather than looting it. Mitch couldn’t tell, and he wasn’t going to push his luck. Heart racing, he crept closer to the side of the house, keeping his shoulders low. He tripped on a stack of loose bricks and almost fell into a recycling bin. Cringing, he crouched in the bushes.

It smelled like cats.

Ugh. He hated cats.

He also hated clutter, and there was a lot of it piled near the house. He’d grown up in a place like this, full of clutter. His mother was a collector. He’d called her right after the earthquake, and she was fine. It was a good thing she didn’t live here in San Diego; she’d be buried in her own junk. The last time he’d visited he’d found a desiccated kitten beneath an old wardrobe.

Shaking his head at the memory, he waited in the shadows and tried to ignore the stench. When the baseball bandits were out of sight, he rose from his hiding place.

“Help me.”

He froze at the sound of a woman’s voice. It was coming from inside the house. There was a broken window about five feet off the ground. He stepped closer, trying to peer inside. “Hello?”

“Help me,” she said again. “I’m stuck.”

He found another window with a busted screen. Tearing it loose, he shoved up the window pane and climbed inside.

It was very dark. And very crowded.

He hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight on this excursion, which was his mistake. The living room appeared to be loaded with boxes and bags of clothes.

Just like Mom’s.

“Here,” the woman said. “By the TV.”

Mitch made his way toward the weak voice, skirting around stacks of books and magazines. His eyes began to adjust to the meager light, and he spotted an elderly woman on the floor. She was lying on her side with her right leg wedged between an old television and a storage cabinet. The furniture must have fallen over during the earthquake, and she’d been trapped ever since.

He wasn’t sure how to proceed. Picking up the TV was no problem, but what if freeing her did more harm than good? He wasn’t a doctor. She might have a broken leg or crushed artery or something.

“Lift this thing off me,” the old lady said.

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Of course you should.”

“I can get bring someone to help you.”

“How soon?”

Mitch couldn’t give an estimate. It might be days or it might be hours. Instead of answering, he moved around to the other side of the TV and inspected the damage. “Can you wiggle your toes?”

“I can wiggle your ears.”

He laughed at her response, dragging a hand down his face. “What’s your name?”

“Louise.”

“I’m going to touch your foot.”

“Be my guest.”

Trying to be gentle, he palpitated her orthopedic shoe. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

He figured the circulation wasn’t completely blocked off. That was a good sign. After a short deliberation, he righted the television set.

She pulled her leg free. “Thank you,” she said weakly. “Thank you, thank you.”

Mitch nodded, relieved she was okay. She maneuvered into a sitting position, but she didn’t try to stand up. He didn’t think she could walk.

Now what?

He was going to have to carry this old lady to the evacuation center. He couldn’t leave her here, so his plan for the night was screwed. He’d have to wait to see Helena. His heart sank at the realization. She probably thought she didn’t need him. He wanted to prove her wrong. He wanted to win her back.

He wanted to win.

With each passing moment, he felt her slipping out of his grasp.

But unless he found someone else to take care of Louise, she was his responsibility. He couldn’t abandon her, the way his father had abandoned him and his mother. Mitch was struck by a fresh wave of guilt for abandoning Helena.

So he picked up Louise, with some difficulty, and headed toward the door.

CHAPTER FOUR

G
WEN STAYED UP
all night again.