“We need to boil water. We need clean towels,” Ava announced, fol owing too.
“She ain’t birthin’ no baby! She’s got a gunshot wound!” Indy shouted.
“I know that!” Ava shouted back. “But we need a sterile environment.”
Lord save me from wel -intentioned Rock Chicks.
Daisy took us to another, smal er room which had also been decorated with a heavy medieval hand and Mace stopped and turned.
I saw Luke cut off our fol owers and declare, “Private,” right before he shut the door in their faces leaving Daisy, Mace, Luke and me in the room.
“This is no big deal,” I announced.
Mace set me on my feet but his hands went back, firm, to my hips just below my waist, making it clear I was not to move away.
“Should we cut off the jeans?” Mace asked.
“No! These are my lucky Levi’s!” I yel ed, trying to jerk my hips from his hands (this didn’t work).
Okay, so, maybe the jeans weren’t so lucky since I’d been shot in them stil , I didn’t want them cut up.
“Would be optimal but we’l peel ‘em off, see how it goes.” Luke ignored my outburst.
“I’l get the first aid. I know a doctor who’l come here,” Daisy said.
“Get it and cal him,” Mace ordered.
“You betcha,” Daisy replied and her eyes found mine.
“We’l get you taken care of, sugar bunch, not to worry.” Then she was off.
Mace’s hands were at my fly.
“Hey! What’re you doing?” I snapped and slapped at his hands. He caught my wrists and gave them a smal jerk so I stopped struggling.
“Stel a, we have to get the jeans off and see the wound,” Mace explained calmly.
Nope. That was not gonna happen.
“No you don’t. Let me cal Floyd. He and Emily wil –”
“You aren’t cal ing Floyd,” Mace stated.
“I am,” I retorted and shook my hair angrily for good measure.
“You aren’t,” Mace repeated.
“I am!” I shouted.
I started struggling, got my wrists free and then started slapping his hands again.
This went on for half a second before he caught my wrists again and pul ed them around my back. The front of my body hit the front of his and I stil ed at the shock of it.
“Cuff her,” Mace said to Luke.
I unstil ed.
“What? ” I screamed, back to struggling in earnest.
There was a clink and my hands were cuffed behind my back. Then Luke gripped my waist holding me stil and Mace worked on my jeans.
Please tell me this is not happening, my brain begged.
Mace unbuttoned the button and I heard and felt the zip going down.
This was happening.
“I’m not wearing any underwear,” I lied.
“I’l close my eyes,” Mace lied back.
“I won’t,” Luke put in.
Shitsofuckit!
I decided to stop talking and stop struggling. I also decided this was good, no this was great. No. This was absolutely fantastic. The longer this went on, the more I hated Mace and since I’d spent a year loving him and not having him, hating was a much, much better emotion to hold onto.
Mace went into a crouch and, careful y and slowly, he peeled down my jeans. Down, down, just over the wound at the very bottom of the hip, right before my leg started. I sucked in breath between my teeth when he exposed it, he stopped and his hands closed around it, one on my hip, one on my thigh.
I could swear I was blushing. Since his hands and his mouth had been there and everywhere and he’d seen me in much less than just my pants rol ed down, exposing a pair of plain, white, shorts-style panties with a little pink bow, wel , I shouldn’t be blushing.
But I was.
“Flesh wound,” he muttered.
“Told you,” I hissed, powering through the blush.
Mace came up from the crouch but stil close, right in my space.
“We’l clean it and Daisy’s doctor can stitch it,” he told me.
“Then can I cal Floyd?” I asked.
“I told you, not until we debrief.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“I wasn’t giving you an option.”
My eyes bugged out, beyond pissed off, rocketing straight to angry as hel .
Before I could blow, Luke asked from behind me, “Do you want me to uncuff her?”
“No,” Mace said.
“Yes,” I said at the same time.
Not surprisingly, Luke didn’t uncuff me.
“Sit down. I’l take off your boots so we can get the jeans off,” Mace demanded.
“Stop bossing me around and I’l take off my own boots, thank you very much,” I shot back.
“That’l be hard to do with your hands cuffed behind you,” Mace returned.
“Uncuff me then,” I retorted.
“Stel a,” Mace said warningly.
“Mace,” I returned the gesture.
Mace sighed and looked over my head and I knew he was looking at Luke. I also knew from the expression on his face that he was also looking for patience.
I heard Luke chuckle.
It hit me then that I was standing in a strange house; I had a gunshot wound, my hands cuffed behind my back and my jeans pul ed down around my thighs.