Read Online Midnight Promises by Lisa Marie Rice - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Marie Rice
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weak, turned inward on herself, the very opposite of sex. What the fuck was the matter with him?
He cleared his throat. “Do you want something to eat?”
She shook her head, eyes glued to his face.
“You should try to eat something,” he said gently. “You need to get your strength back. You lost almost a liter and a half of blood. We reinfused you, but still. Your body’s been through trauma.” Metal smiled. “I’m not a bad cook. I could make you some nice scrambled eggs.”
Her long pale throat bobbed up and down in a convulsive swallow. Okay. Not scrambled eggs.
“Or toast. I have some excellent whole wheat bread I made myself. I could toast a slice. Do you think you could keep that down?”
Eyes enormous, she nodded.
“Okay, good.” He shook two pills out in his hand and picked up the glass of water he’d put on the bedside table. “Take these.”
She was still, no expression on her face.
He didn’t sigh. Kept his face bland. “They’re painkillers. You have twenty stitches and you have bruises on your back and arms. You must be in pain. These are ibuprofen. You won’t be groggy and you won’t be out of it—it will just ease the pain. Trust me, please.”
“You’re a friend of Lauren’s,” she said, and he understood what she was saying.
He dipped his head. “I am. And a friend and colleague of her friend Jacko. And we are all on your side. Absolutely.”
She looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings then back at him. “Where am I?”
“224 Jackson. My place. You are completely safe. If someone somehow knows there’s a connection between you and Lauren, they sure won’t know about me. And my place is secure. Jacko and I work in security and we have military backgrounds so we know what we’re doing.”
She was watching him carefully. “Lauren said that Jacko is a former SEAL. Are you?”
He nodded. She seemed to relax just a little. Damn straight. You’re in trouble? Then you want a SEAL at your back. No better friend, no worse enemy.
“But you seem to know a lot about medicine.”
He dipped his head again. “I was a medic.”
She frowned, blond eyebrows pulling together. “Medic. Okay.”
God knows what she was thinking. He wasn’t a doctor. But a battlefield medic deals with more emergency trauma than any hospital ER doctor. He’d pit his trauma skills against any doctor. He couldn’t treat diabetes or high blood pressure but you got shot? He was your guy.
“Medic. The Navy trained me to deal with emergency wounds and that’s what you had. I didn’t stitch you up, though. I didn’t want to leave an ugly scar.”
Not on that pale, perfect skin.
“Who—who stitched me up?” She touched her side under the clean T-shirt he’d put on her. It fit like a huge nightgown. “I remember we went to this…place. With a nice doctor. You called him…Manuel?”
Sharp lady. He didn’t think she’d absorbed much. She’d been wounded and in pain. But she had.
The clinic was a secret that wasn’t his to share. “Someone else who knew what he was doing. But we made sure no one else could know that you were there. Look, I’m going to go get you something to eat and drink because that’s part of the healing process. And afterward I’ll answer all your questions, okay?”
She nodded.
He took one last look at her, sitting up in his bed, dressed in his T-shirt. Looking lost and vulnerable and so incredibly beautiful he had to turn on his heel and go to the kitchen fast before he did or said something he’d regret.
Metal was fast in most things. He was so big people naturally assumed he was slow but he wasn’t. In just a few minutes, he had a freshly brewed cup of tea and two toasted slices of his five-grain bread on a tray together with some butter and honey.
She hadn’t moved. She watched him carefully as he put the tray on her lap. As he bent over her he could smell Betadine and faintly, under that, lavender. Looking down, he saw high cheekbones and long
He cleared his throat. “Do you want something to eat?”
She shook her head, eyes glued to his face.
“You should try to eat something,” he said gently. “You need to get your strength back. You lost almost a liter and a half of blood. We reinfused you, but still. Your body’s been through trauma.” Metal smiled. “I’m not a bad cook. I could make you some nice scrambled eggs.”
Her long pale throat bobbed up and down in a convulsive swallow. Okay. Not scrambled eggs.
“Or toast. I have some excellent whole wheat bread I made myself. I could toast a slice. Do you think you could keep that down?”
Eyes enormous, she nodded.
“Okay, good.” He shook two pills out in his hand and picked up the glass of water he’d put on the bedside table. “Take these.”
She was still, no expression on her face.
He didn’t sigh. Kept his face bland. “They’re painkillers. You have twenty stitches and you have bruises on your back and arms. You must be in pain. These are ibuprofen. You won’t be groggy and you won’t be out of it—it will just ease the pain. Trust me, please.”
“You’re a friend of Lauren’s,” she said, and he understood what she was saying.
He dipped his head. “I am. And a friend and colleague of her friend Jacko. And we are all on your side. Absolutely.”
She looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings then back at him. “Where am I?”
“224 Jackson. My place. You are completely safe. If someone somehow knows there’s a connection between you and Lauren, they sure won’t know about me. And my place is secure. Jacko and I work in security and we have military backgrounds so we know what we’re doing.”
She was watching him carefully. “Lauren said that Jacko is a former SEAL. Are you?”
He nodded. She seemed to relax just a little. Damn straight. You’re in trouble? Then you want a SEAL at your back. No better friend, no worse enemy.
“But you seem to know a lot about medicine.”
He dipped his head again. “I was a medic.”
She frowned, blond eyebrows pulling together. “Medic. Okay.”
God knows what she was thinking. He wasn’t a doctor. But a battlefield medic deals with more emergency trauma than any hospital ER doctor. He’d pit his trauma skills against any doctor. He couldn’t treat diabetes or high blood pressure but you got shot? He was your guy.
“Medic. The Navy trained me to deal with emergency wounds and that’s what you had. I didn’t stitch you up, though. I didn’t want to leave an ugly scar.”
Not on that pale, perfect skin.
“Who—who stitched me up?” She touched her side under the clean T-shirt he’d put on her. It fit like a huge nightgown. “I remember we went to this…place. With a nice doctor. You called him…Manuel?”
Sharp lady. He didn’t think she’d absorbed much. She’d been wounded and in pain. But she had.
The clinic was a secret that wasn’t his to share. “Someone else who knew what he was doing. But we made sure no one else could know that you were there. Look, I’m going to go get you something to eat and drink because that’s part of the healing process. And afterward I’ll answer all your questions, okay?”
She nodded.
He took one last look at her, sitting up in his bed, dressed in his T-shirt. Looking lost and vulnerable and so incredibly beautiful he had to turn on his heel and go to the kitchen fast before he did or said something he’d regret.
Metal was fast in most things. He was so big people naturally assumed he was slow but he wasn’t. In just a few minutes, he had a freshly brewed cup of tea and two toasted slices of his five-grain bread on a tray together with some butter and honey.
She hadn’t moved. She watched him carefully as he put the tray on her lap. As he bent over her he could smell Betadine and faintly, under that, lavender. Looking down, he saw high cheekbones and long
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