Ten minutes later, he was spread out on the short love seat across the aisle with a wool cargo blanket tucked under his left butt cheek and thigh, and another blanket covering him from shoulder to toes. His right foot rested on the floor, and his left foot dangled over the armrest. A chemical ice pack balanced on his bandages.
Valerie had strapped into her seat at the table after retrieving two water bottles from a cooler in the back. “Do you need anything else?” she asked over the rumble of the engines, drawing her dark brows together over a slight frown.
You.Not that he was in any position to get busy now, even if she could look past his scars. He shook his head.
After several minutes of silence, she cleared her throat and asked, “How did you get injured?”
“Shrapnel from an IED blast. An improvised explosive device,” he clarified. “In Afghanistan two years ago. The guy walking ahead of me lost both legs, his family jewels, and half an arm. Thanks to him, I didn’t lose anything.” His voice had turned rough and he pressed a little harder on the ice pack.
Her lips gathered in sorrow. Or maybe pity. “I’m sorry. For both of you.”
Scott nodded and stared at strip of overhead lighting. Poor, fucking Donaldson had gone home to his new wife as half a man with a lot of pain and hardship ahead, and Scott—who had no wife, no girlfriend—had gotten off easy. Well, maybe not easy, but with nothing a year of surgeries, drugs, and physical therapy couldn’t mostly fix. In return, he’d renewed his bond with his mother when she dropped everything to care for him, and he’d found the start of a new brotherhood in Steele Security after he was back in fighting shape.
For the first time in his life, until this week, he’d begun to think his luck had changed.
Their flight was twenty minutes out from a private landing strip in Loudon County, Virginia when Scott sat up from the love seat with a wince, muttered “Mother fucker,” and rubbed the sleep from his face. He kept his right leg outstretched, blocking the aisle, and leaned back against the cushions.
Only after downing half of his water bottle and a couple of ibuprofen did he look Valerie’s way, his ocean-blue eyes bloodshot, but alert. “Hey.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” His chin rose a notch as if daring her to contradict him. “Did you get any sleep?”
“A few hours. The pilot said we’re going to land soon.”
“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh one hundred. Jesus, I’m not even sure I know what day it is anymore.”
“No kidding. And it’s two a.m.”
“Right. I forgot about the time change.” After fiddling with the oversized dial on his wrist, he scowled at his ruined shorts for a minute and then stood. “I need to get into clean pants before we land.”
Using the rear seats for support, he retrieved a pair of charcoal hiking pants that had zippers around the knees to convert to shorts and tossed them onto the small sofa. Now that they were back in Virginia, he’d need the long pants.
And they’d both need jackets. She shivered just thinking about the cold rain outside.
He slid onto the love seat and wiped sweat from his forehead.
“You alright?”
“I think we should split up,” he said, his voice strained, eyes on his hands.
Her jaw dropped. “Why?”
Without meeting her wide-eyed gaze, he leaned across the aisle and took the scissors from the first aid kit she’d brought back to the empty seat. “When I wasn’t injured, I added some value to this partnership.” He lifted the hem of his black Cage the Elephant shirt to get an angle on the waistband of his shorts and dazzled her with the view of his sculpted abs. “Now, I’ll just hold you back.”
“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” she said, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice. Just hours ago when he’d kissed her, he’d made a promise. She flushed with desire at the memory and anger at his change of heart. “I believe your exact words were, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’”
He finally looked at her, color high on his cheeks. “Before this happened”—he gestured to his bandaged leg—“I could protect you. Now, I can barely walk. I won’t just hold you back, I could put you in danger.”
Men.Good God. “So, ifIwere injured instead, you’d want to split up so I wouldn’t slow you down?”
Scott’s lips twisted, and he gave a sharp sigh. “Of course not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just… If you hurt your leg, you could still do your computer magic. And if we had to run, I could,I don’t know, carry you or something.”
She stood and held out her hand for the scissors. He turned them over with a puzzled look.
“I can’t carry you, and you can’t do ‘computer magic,’ so I should leave you behind,” she said, snipping through the right leg of his pants with just enough care to avoid stabbing him. “Did you get hit on the head too? God, you must think I’m a complete bitch if you believe I’d walk away now.”
“Valerie.” His tone was part apology, part warning as the scissor blades approached his stomach. “No. I—”
