But he reached in after she’d made her way inside and closed the door, giving her some much-needed privacy. Which should have made it easier to breathe, but knowing he was standing on the other side, listening—and she knew he was. Waiting for the slightest indication she was in trouble—only increased the tightfeeling in her chest, and she had to physically force in a few deep inhalations before she was able to stumble to the toilet—take care of business.
Groping her way to the sink was harder than she’d anticipated, the stitches in her side pulling with each step. And when had her legs gotten so weak? Standing shouldn’t be this hard. She’d been doing it all her life. Yet, her muscles shook as she turned on the taps—managed to splash some water on her face. God, she looked as if she’d gone a few rounds in the ring and lost. Horribly.
Ellis glanced longingly at the shower. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes under the spray. Wash the grime out of her hair—bits of dried blood off her skin. Brett or Ice or one of his buddies had obviously cleaned her up as much as possible, but it didn’t compare to cascading water. To the feeling of rinsing all her troubles away.
And there was that lingering feel of those bastard’s hands on her skin. The rough glide of their palms. The stench of sweat and smoke.
“El? You okay?”
Did he have to keep calling her that? The nickname only he’d ever used? She’d never really liked her name—the short forms even less. So, to everyone she’d ever met, it had been Ellis. Not El or Ellie. Ellis. Until she’d met Brett. The way the single syllable had rolled off his lips… It had felt right. Hearing it, now…
She wasn’t sure how to respond. Obviously, it was the by-product of habit. Of two years’ worth of dating. It didn’t mean anything else. Couldn’t.
The handle rattled then opened, and she looked into the mirror at his reflection. Damn, he was handsome. Almost pretty in his features and definitely not someone she’d peg as a hardcore Delta Force soldier. Surfer, sure. Maybe even a model. Not a deadly threat. But, that had always worked to hisadvantage. Was part of the reason he’d been so good at getting intel from the locals. He didn’tlookthreatening. Lethal.
He was both.
She arched a brow. “Something wrong? Am I not allowed a bit of time to wash my face? Give my teeth a scrub?”
“I asked if you were okay, and you didn’t answer. I reacted, accordingly.”
“I was busy. But, since you’re here…don’t suppose I could trouble you for a towel? So I can take a dip in your shower?”
She knew by his reaction—furrowed brow, pursed mouth—that he thought she was crazy. That he could see just standing there was taking all her strength. That there wasn’t a hope in hell she’d be able to get in and out of the shower, let alone wash her hair, clean herself, without getting one of those concussions he’d mentioned. But, it was worth asking.
He took a step closer. “I know you probably feel like crap, but… I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t know if Ice would even allow it. Your wounds?—”
“Are bad. Yeah, I know. But, my mental state is equally important, and it needs to wash this entire incident off me.”
“Mental state? Wait. Did they…” His jaw clenched. Repeatedly. Jumping the muscle in his temple. “Fuck, El, did they…” He swallowed hard, again. Like before. As if it hurt. “Did they…rape you? Is that what this is about?” He wet his lips, glancing around the room. His eyes were wide, almost panic stricken. As if he hadn’t considered the possibility. Not when it was foreign to him. When he wasn’t capable of that form of violence. “Shit. Wait here. I’ll get Ice. He?—”
“Easy there, Brett. You’re going to give yourself whiplash if you keep hopping from one assumption to the next like that. No, they didn’t actually rape me, but… That doesn’t mean they didn’t grab me. Didn’t put their hands on me. That I can’t still feel all it. So, yeah, I’d like to wash that off, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Actually? What the hell does that mean?”
Shit. She shouldn’t have said anything. Brett was a natural protector. She knew the bruises and wounds had probably set him off. Made him edgy. But thinking they’d touched her—been inappropriate… He’d be seeing red.
“What it means is, they were stupid and let their guard down. Allowed me to capitalize on a moment of weakness and escape. Nothing more. Now, about that shower…”
He didn’t ease up, but he nodded. “Even if it won’t compromise your injuries, you’re not in any condition to go in there, alone. Ice is a medic, he?—”
“I don’t need a medic to babysit me in the shower.”
“Then, I can ask Jericho. She’d be more than willing to help. And she just got back with Cannon.”
Jericho? Who the hell was Jericho? Shit, was she Brett’s girlfriend? After all, it had been five years. And Brett was gorgeous. Strong and sweet and any woman’s dream. Thinking he was still single—that he hadn’t moved on—was foolish. He wasn’t wearing a ring—she’d checked. Not that she was proud of that fact, but not sporting jewelry didn’t mean they weren’t together.
“Jericho?”
“Cannon’s girl—partner.”
“Wait. Cannon has a girlfriend? As in an actual relationship?”
“For several months, now. Pretty sure they’ll get hitched but that doesn’t seem to be too pressing. They’re totally devoted to each other. Kinda creepy after never seeing him with anyone, before. But…” He made direct eye contact. “Guess he realized there’s more to life than endless missions. That having someone to share it with makes it all worthwhile. Took him long enough.”
If she’d wondered if he had unresolved issues regarding their previous relationship, the way she’d left, he’d just clarified it.And based on the increased red across his cheeks, he wasn’t happy with that fact.
Good, neither was she. But those questions would have to wait until after she felt human, again. Not that a shower would accomplish that, but it was a start.
