“El? You okay? Should I get Ice back in here?” He turned, but she managed to grab his arm. Stop him.
Damn, the man was strong. Muscled. Not that he hadn’t been before, but he’d taken it to a new level. As if he’d spent every spare moment over the past five years moving as much iron as he could. And it showed.
“I…It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need you to call Ice. And I was hoping I could start off with a trip to the bathroom. Is it far?”
Christ, she must be losing it if she was questioning if she could walk to the bathroom. Though, she’d be lying if she said simply grabbing Brett’s arm hadn’t cost her some of her energy. Felt as if she’d been drained by over half, already.
“Not far, at all. Though, in your case, it might as well be on the moon. Ice says you’re better but…you still look like death to me. And I can feel your grip weakening as we speak.”
He shuffled so he was perpendicular to the bed instead of hovering over her. “Can you put your arms around my neck? It’ll be more comfortable for you that way.”
“More comfortable when you do what, exactly?”
“Carry you.”
She snorted. “I think I can walk to the bathroom without keeling over.”
“Would you care to wager on that? Because I lost fifty bucks on a hockey game the other night, and this would be easy money.”
“I can see hanging around with Cannon all this time has improved your charm.”
“Sweeter than ever. Now, are you going to accept my help, or should I just call Ice in so he can be here when you give yourself a concussion?” He winked at her. Actually winked, the jerk. “Idon’t think he had to treat you for that, yet. Might be a refreshing change from gunshot wounds and electrical burns.”
That tone. The one he’d used that first night when he said they’d talk—it was back. As if her wounds had upset him—angered him. And by the sounds of it, they knew far more than she wanted them to. Had deduced she’d been held. Which, of course, they had. They’d seen their share of captive prisoners—had rescued enough brothers from enemy forces—to know interrogation techniques when they saw them. Though, the burns hadn’t been that obvious. Her captures had seen to that—less evidence to connect back to them. But…Ice was thorough. Had been a damn good medic from what she remembered—the praise he’d gotten from Brett and the others. Stood to reason he hadn’t missed anything.
Ellis sighed. “Wasn’t exactly a fun time for me, either, but… Fine. I’d appreciate the lift. Just this once.”
“Right. Arms…”
She reached up when he leaned down, groaning against the burn through her side. She hated that he was right. That she wouldn’t have made it any farther than she had the other night before falling down. Not that she’d admit it. She’d worked hard since joining the Agency to overcome any physical weakness the military hadn’t beaten out of her, and admitting to some, now, wasn’t going to help her fight back against the company. The one she’d thought was honorable—was dedicated to waging the war against terrorism.
Colt waited for her to thread her fingers together behind his neck before scooping her into his arms. She inhaled when the tee rode up, dangerously close to baring her ass. Not that he hadn’t seen it before, but… They weren’t together. Weren’t a couple. And somehow, being naked beneath the shirt made her feel more vulnerable than when she’d been down to a bra and panties with the creeps who’d tortured her.
Probably had something to do with the butterflies congregating inside her stomach. The ones that wouldn’t sit still and insisted on fluttering about. That or the way her pulse kicked up the moment he pressed her against his chest.
Brett tsked. “You’ve lost weight. Was there something wrong with how you looked before? Did some asshole tell you that you weren’t pretty enough? Make you feel like you had to conform to some Hollywood ideal?”
Did he seriously think she’d had any kind of life since him? That the changes in her appearance hadn’t been wrought out of necessity?
“There haven’t been any guys, assholes or otherwise. And it’s called training. I actually weigh about the same, it just looks different.”
“Badass. Yeah, we noticed.”
He stopped at the door to the ensuite. Five steps. That’s all it had taken to cross the room. And about three more than she probably could have achieved.
He placed her gently on her feet. “Do you think?—”
“Got it covered. Promise.”
He frowned, glancing from the toilet over to the sink then back. “You sure? It’s not far, but…”
“Positive. More than enough items to brace myself on. I’m good.”
His frown deepened, but he nodded. “I’ll be right outside. If you think, for even a second, you’re going to fall or pass out…”
“I’ll call for backup.”
“Stubborn.”
