Flesh (Flesh 1)

She was nervous. The panic attack, running away, all of it. If he had stopped to think with his big head as opposed to the little one, he might have moderated his behavior some time back, but no. He had been gung-ho the whole way.

He was an ass.

But, he was the ass committed to keeping her in one piece.

“Good. Great.” He released the death hold he had on her pants, something surprisingly hard to do; his fingers stiffly refused to uncurl.

“Why don’t I turn my back and let you get out of those jeans so you can get your knee cleaned up? I’ve even got a couple of extra t-shirts if you need, so you can cover up. I’m not going to see a thing. How does that sound?”

Her shoulders dropped. “Fine.”

Turning his back was harder than letting go of her jeans had been. All sorts of conflict rose up inside him. The girl had no voodoo powers, she wasn’t going to disappear into thin air because his eyes weren’t on her. Christ, he was a case. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. His hands shook.

The tiny hal way led to a poky lounge with a couple of bedrooms situated off it. Not much chance she would run off on him. Surely.

He strained his ears but heard no sounds of a swift retreat taking place behind him. With the shotgun still in the kitchen, care of their mad dash, she had no weapon at hand. Behind him, the sound of shuffling told him she’d climbed to her feet and ditched the dirty, bloody jeans.

Still. You never knew. So he snuck a peek over his shoulder.

“Hey!”

He spun to face her at the tone of outrage, a hand held out to halt her not even happening escape. Ah, f**k.

The poor girl struggled to pull her pants back up. Going by the pained expression on her damp and pale face, doing so didn’t come remotely close to being fun for her poor sore knee.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Okay, let’s try again.” Daniel shoved a hand through his hair, grabbed a handful and tugged. Holy cow did she look upset. Her eyes were once more skittish, searching for an out. His fault. “Ali, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m excited to see you. No excuse, I know. I also seem to be a tad bit terrified that you’re going to disappear on me. So I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have cheated.”

She showed him her teeth.

“I know. I deserve that, but stil …” She hesitated, and he smothered his own snarl of frustration. Buried it down deep in his belly where she couldn’t possibly hear it and use it against him. “Ali, play fair. Give me a chance here.”

“Why should I?” Ali sank back down onto the floor. She set her hands on the linoleum behind her, leant back, sort of Playboy Bunny-style, minus the thrusting out of her br**sts. That was just his dirty mind filling in the gaps. Mostly, she appeared tired, cranky, run down. But it didn’t matter. He stared at her, stunned. Poleaxed al over again by the pale, dirty woman who had shoved a gun in his face.

Aah, man. Forty-one was far too f**king old for love at first sight. He might as well throw himself at her feet and be done with it.

Except he’d pretty much already done that. It hadn’t gotten him anywhere.

She definitely looked twitchy again, like she would be making for the nearest exit at the first opportunity, sans him.

“Ali, if I break your trust again, I’ll go fetch the shotgun for you myself. What do you say?”

“I say you’re full of it.” It took some time, but eventually she met his gaze. There was a lot going on behind those gray eyes. Too much. He stood in the proverbial cold, coming close to having the door to her heart and mind slammed shut in his face.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Please.”

Her body sagged, and her head hung low. “And say what? I was fine on my own.”

“I know, I know. But for how long? Hmm?”

Nothing.

“All I want,” he dropped to his knees before her. She hustled back on her butt till she hit the wall. Those wide eyes, so full of fear, made his heart hurt. Without her trust he had nothing. “Al I want … is to keep you safe.”

“For what?”

“A long time. A very, very long time.”

“Right.” She partly turned her head, putting him in the corner of her vision. “You want a lot more than that.”

Daniel held up a hand, stopping the notion right then and there. “But! But. Listen to me here because this is important. Not without your permission, Ali. That’s the crux of it.”

She watched him like he was a barely chained beast for several long moments, probably weighing his intrinsic value, or who the f**k knew what. He sat silent, out of tricks for now, worn down to his last argument. He held his peace.

“Okay, I promise I won’t run. For now. Not that I’m committing to anything.” The last she tacked on hastily to the end.

“Absolutely.” His heart turned giddy cartwheels inside his chest. Clapping would probably be going too far. “God forbid.”

“Up to and including agreeing to play Adam and Eve with you.”

“Uh-huh. Got it.” He nodded eagerly but kept his face bland. “But you know you just put the visual of you wearing nothing but fig leaves in my head.”

She blinked.

“Sorry.”

Ali careful y pushed herself up the wall, got to her feet. He followed. Not licking his lips.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he enquired.

Gray eyes darted to a door down the hal way, but her hand pointed to another.

“There?” He gave the door indicated a nod, but kept the other in mind for later. It and whatever lay behind it. “Okay, let’s have a bath.” He paused. “I meant that in the singular, by the way.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“How are you doing?”

“Hmm?” Ali rushed the razor over the back of her calf, swallowing past the lump in her throat, feeling stupid and self-conscious.

Gussying herself up because of the idiot, because his jibes had hit home. She had actually let him get to her. Stupid.

And her hands were shaking again. The combined effect of the oversized male lounging against the doorframe with his back turned and the infected banging around outside set her nerves to highly strung.

Both made her jumpy.

Eventually, the infected would lose interest and seek out other prey. Eventually, so too would the oversized male.

“I could give you a hand,” he said, not for the first time.

She didn’t bother to reply.

“You’re kil ing me.”

“I don’t have my shotgun. If I was killing you I’d probably want that,” she pointed out, in a voice so tight it wavered. Being without her shotgun sucked even more of the courage from her. “Where is it?”