Read Online Crossfire Christmas by Julie Miller - Free Book Online Page B

when she turned around to walk to the bathroom sink to wet the cloth, Charles clamped a hand around her wrist like a vise, pulling her back between his knees. “You don’t have to understand me at all, Teresa.” Her gaze dropped to the gun on the quilt beside him, and he quickly released her to snatch it up before she could even think about making a lunge for it. “I’m not going to tell you my last name, because the less you know about me, the better. You may not believe this, but I’m trying to protect you.”
    She retreated beyond his reach, rubbing at the traitorous warmth that lingered on her skin where he’d touched her. “Hence the threats and the kidnapping.”
    “Does that mouth ever get you into trouble? Or is all the tough talk just a defense mechanism for you?” He nodded, as if something in her posture or expression had answered his question. “Try not to be too afraid. If you do everything I say, you’ll be safe.”
    Teresa was too wet and cold and exhausted to stifle her sarcasm. “Well, guess what, Charlie. I don’t trust you, either.”
    The corner of his mouth crooked up with half a grin at her expense. “No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. You’re prickly when you get worried or riled up.”
    “I’m not worried about you,” she lied.
    The grin faded as he tugged at the scarf, now sticky with his blood, exposing the ragged wound at the front of his shoulder. “The people who tried to kill me this morning will try again. They’ve already tracked me to Kansas City. I have no doubt they’ll send someone else to find me and finish the job. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire. Enough innocent lives have already been lost.”
    “What do you care about innocent lives?”
    “Even men like me have a code of honor they live by. Rules about what’s right and wrong.” There was no trace of humor anywhere in his expression now. With the flecks of gold-and-brown beard dotting his neck and jaw, he looked even more like the wounded bear she’d imagined him to be earlier. He dropped the scarf onto the other soiled garments on the floor and raised his gaze to hers. “Rule One? I need to live. For a few days longer, at least. To do that, I need your help. That makes you an asset to me. Rule Two is protect your assets. So no last name. No warm fuzzies between us. I don’t need you to get close or to give a damn about me. Just do your job.”
    “In a few days, it’ll be Christmas,” she pointed out. “Is there really a rule on that list of yours that says you’re going to let me go once I take out that bullet?” He arched a wheat-colored brow in a silent question. She moved around his knees and pointed to the bump in the skin beside his scapula. “I can see it protruding through the skin near your shoulder blade. Your protective vest must have worked in reverse. Instead of keeping the bullet out, it prevented the projectile from exiting your body. You need a surgeon, not a pediatric nurse.”
    He shook his head. “I’ve got you. That’s all I need.”
    “You’re lucky it’s not buried inside by a lung or other vital organ. And there’s no way to tell what muscle or bone damage there is without an X-ray.” She didn’t bother reminding him again that a hospital was where they should be right now.
    He tipped that grizzled bear of a face up to hers. “Can you cut it out and stitch up the wound?”
    Did he not understand the enormity of what he was asking of her? “Yes, but that’s only a superficial fix. A muscle tear will probably heal on its own. But if there’s a bone chip inside or a nicked blood vessel or nerve damage—”
    “Do it.”
    “I need a few minutes to boil water and sterilize everything.”
    “No boiling water.” He slipped his long arm behind her waist, pulling her close again. “You think I’m going to trust you with a potential weapon like that?”
    Ignoring the heavy weight of the weapon resting against her hip, Teresa jerked away. “You may have