The Hit (Team Zulu 1)

In the living room, I sat on the sofa to rest my ankle, unsure what else to do. Shep added wood to the fire. I didn’t miss the head-to-toe scan he gave me on his way to the kitchen. His eyes lingered long enough to make me wonder if I looked silly in his huge clothes, but if he thought so, he didn’t mention it.

He returned with a small medical kit and sat on the coffee table facing me. Being this close to him was intimidating, yet he didn’t seem to sense how nervous it made me. Sure, he’d done none of the horrible things I thought he might, so I wasn’t terrified like earlier, just wary as hell.

He took out a bottle of disinfectant and applied it to sterile gauze before glancing at me with a furrowed brow. “You know what’s coming now, right?”

I nodded and braced myself for the sting. He leaned forward to inspect the cut on my forehead before dabbing with the antiseptic. I winced at the initial shock. Shep paused.

“It’s fine,” I said, and only then did he carry on with his task.

With him way up in my personal space, my senses went on high alert. It accentuated every sound. The tick of the clock on the wall, the crackling fire, my ragged breath as I tried to remember how to draw air into my lungs. And while Shep tended my wounds, I couldn’t help but notice how gentle his hands were.

“It won’t need stitches, but I should cover it until the skin knits over a little.”

I nodded, scared that any words might come out a jumbled mess. After our heated interactions, his newfound kindness puzzled me.

He applied a Band-Aid and set to work disinfecting the grazes on my arms and legs, moving with an efficiency that made me think he’d patched himself or others up many times before.

He held out his hand. “Let me see your ankle again.”

I hesitated, then raised it toward the table, but he reached for it and placed it on his thigh like he had earlier. Shifting in the seat, my eyes followed where his long fingers skimmed over the swollen area.

I wasn’t sure what murderers’ hands should look like, but his were well-groomed with clean, short-trimmed nails, although there were a few scars along his knuckles. My skin tingled as his fingertips brushed across my injury, but not in a painful way.

“I won’t mess with that until the swelling comes down. Not much I can do for it now anyway, but at least you’re able to walk on it. That’s a good sign.”

His eyes met mine and my heart rate sped up from the intensity of his gaze. The silence lingered between us. A flicker of emotion passed over his face, but it was too fast for me to read.

He cleared his throat and eased my leg from his thigh to the table. “I’ll leave your hands unbound for now, but any more tricks like the one you pulled earlier and I’ll have you in cuffs, got it?”

Great, we were back to threats, which wasn’t such a bad thing. That version of Shep was easier to accept.

I held his stare. “Got it. I won’t do anything stupid.” Like stab him with a kitchen knife, the fire poker, or a broken bottle. All right, perhaps Iwasstill considering doing something stupid. What I wanted most were his car keys so I could book it out of here.

“Stay here and rest up. I have to get some things from the truck.” He stood and headed for the door.

Ranger trotted to my side once his owner had left the room. He sniffed my clothes while I gave him a pat. When I tapped the seat next to me, he hopped up and spun in a circle before resting his head on my lap. I smiled. At least he liked me.

Shep returned with a cooler and several shopping bags. He frowned at Ranger before he kicked the door closed behind him.

“You hungry?” he asked, then started unpacking fresh fruit, vegetables, and meat into the fridge.

He’d thought to bring supplies. It unnerved me he’d put so much planning into my abduction.

I shook my head. “No.”

Although I should be. The clock on the wall said it was almost 4:30 p.m., and I hadn’t eaten since the night before. My stomach wasn’t ready for food yet. It churned, but not from hunger.

I stroked Ranger while his owner worked in the kitchen. A short while later, he approached with a toasted sandwich on a plate.

I huffed. “I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

Shep’s lips twitched. “What is this? A hunger strike?”

“No.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t want any food.”

He held the plate out to me. “You haven’t had anything all day. You should eat.”

“Are you always this pig-headed? Or are you turning the charm on for me?” I flashed him my most insincere smile and made no move to take the meal.