Her heart slammed into her ribs. She put her left hand on his shoulder, carefully; then she used tweezers that she’d sterilized to go into the wound. She was lucky. No, he was. The bullet hadn’t fragmented. She pulled it out, wincing for him, but of course, the man made of steel didn’t even flinch.
She cleaned the wound, got a better bandage and finished patching him up.
Then she kept...touching him.
Why was touching him such an addiction to her? Warm skin, hard muscles.
“Don’t, Sydney.” His warning.
A warning that came too late for her.
She stared at his face. At his lips. She’d heard another woman once say that Gunner had cruel lips. Tight. Hard. She’d never found them to be cruel. She’d never found him to be cruel at all. Controlled and dangerous, yes. Cruel?
Not Gunner.
“Your lip is busted.” She reached for another cloth, blotted the blood away. “You didn’t even try to defend yourself.”
Voices rose and fell from the outer room. Logan and Cale, questioning Slade.
Slade.
For months, she’d dreamed of him being found alive. Of him coming home to her. And she was glad, so glad, that he’d been rescued. She would have risked her life a dozen times to get him out of that camp.
But...
She would also risk her life a dozen times—gladly—for Gunner.
That wasn’t right, was it? A woman shouldn’t feel so torn between two men.
A man she’d once said she’d marry.
And a man...a man who had carried her through the darkness. A man who made her ache, even now, for him.
The door she’d shut banged open against the wall. “Sydney!”
Slade’s voice.
“Get away from him,” Slade ordered.
She blinked and realized that, yes, she was pretty much draped over Gunner. Her hands were on him, and he—he wasn’t touching her with his hands. His hands had flattened against the bed.
Slowly, she eased back and stood on her feet, deliberately positioning herself near the bed. Near Gunner.
“Did you get the bullet?” Logan asked her, voice cautious.
Sydney nodded. “He’s good now.”
“No, he’s not!” Slade lunged forward, and Cale actually had to grab him and hold him back. Slade had been going forward with his hands clenched into fists and rage blazing in
his eyes. “He’s a bastard who deserves to suffer!”
“He just saved you,” Logan said, putting his body right in front of Slade’s. “Listen, I understand that you’ve been through hell—”
Slade’s brittle laughter broke through his words. “You understand nothing. You hear me? Nothing! You think that guy over there is your friend? That you can trust him? Hell, no, you can’t. He’ll turn on you, just like he turned on me.” Spittle flew from his mouth.
Gunner eased from the bed. He was shirtless but still wearing his pants and boots.
His body brushed by Sydney’s as he headed toward Slade.