“You need sutures,” she told him. “But first I have to clean you up. Sit tight while I find a sponge. And undo your trousers.” She glanced down as her face warmed again. “It looks like that cut extends beneath your waistband.”
She left the pilothouse and returned with a clean cloth and a bowl of warm water. Still seated, Jordan lowered his pants to midthigh and rolled down the waistband of his boxer briefs, exposing a set of V-shaped hip flexor muscles that were bound to make an appearance in her dreams tonight. She handed him the bowl and forced herself to study the contents of her med-kit instead of watching him sponge his bare torso.
When he was done, she knelt on the floor between his legs, but then quickly changed into a crouch. She’d vowed never to kneel before any man again after Marius, and she meant to keep that promise. She didn’t talk as she sprayed antiseptic over the scrapes on Jordan’s chest. When the time came to clean his deeper wound, she peeked up at him.
“Ready?”
Nodding, he gripped the chair’s armrest. His grasp tightened as she sprayed the length of his gash, but he didn’t make a sound.
“Now for the fun part,” she said, holding up the suture gel. “This is going to burn like hellfire.”
“And you wondered why I didn’t come to you.”
She carefully pinched his wound closed. Then, one slow inch at a time, she spread the gel in place and cringed in sympathy as its chemicals bubbled and sizzled over his flesh. He clenched his teeth and grunted. The pain wouldn’t last long, but she knew from experience it was intense.
To ease the burn, she blew lightly on his abdomen. He gasped, and she immediately glanced up, expecting to find him hurt. But the heated expression in his eyes told her he wouldn’t mind if she did it again.
She knew that look.
She had seen it a dozen times on Kane’s face, most recently on the afternoon she’d spent with him in his bunk. The sobering thought jerked her to her senses. She felt a stab of guilt, but she couldn’t tell for whom.
She cleared her throat and stood up. “You wanted to talk to me?”
Jordan raised both brows.
“You said it was important,” she prompted.
“Oh.” He seemed to catch on, straightening in his chair and swallowing hard. “Yes. It’s about Kane Arric.”
“What about him?”
“It’s not hearsay anymore. I have evidence that he’s assisting the rebels.” Jordan arched against the seatback to pull up his pants. “He activated his old credit account on the day he returned to Eturia. The balance wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy a large amount of ammonium nitrate. It’s used for building bombs.”
“And for fertilizing soil,” she pointed out. “His mother lives on a farm. He probably bought it for her.”
“Maybe. But remember when the rebels tried to raid our fuel station?”
“What about it?”
“They used nitrate bombs as a diversion. That’s when we started tracking ammonium nitrate purchases. Kane’s was the largest and most recent. That can’t be a coincidence.” Jordan lifted a hand as if anticipating her next words. “Before you defend him, let me finish. Yesterday my men found a rebel in our ranks. A soldier in the second battalion. He admitted during questioning that he asked Kane to gather information from you and report back with anything useful.”
“Then he’s lying, because Kane would never do that. Who’s your source?”
“Norton Shalvis. His nickname is Badger.”
The name put a hitch in her pulse. Kane had received at least two transmissions from Badger, and those were just the ones she knew about. But the calls had made sense. Badger was looking after Kane’s mom. “All right, they’ve spoken to each other, but that doesn’t prove anything.”
“There’s more,” Jordan said. “The royal armory was looted. All the rifles we collected from the volunteers are gone.”
She swore under her breath. More weapons in rebel hands—it was her worst nightmare. “I thought you moved the armory to the old grain silo.”
“I did. I drove the weapons there and unloaded them myself. And I didn’t tell a soul about it, not even my next-in-command. You and I were the only ones who knew.” He raised a brow at her. “Did you mention anything about it to Kane?”
“No,” she said. But as soon as the word left her lips, she recalled that Kane had been waiting right outside the door when she and Jordan had discussed moving the armory. He could’ve easily overheard the conversation and told someone the new location.
A chill rolled down her spine.
“Be careful what you share with him.” Jordan pointed toward the cargo hold, where a distant groan of pain rang out. “I buried three good men today and I’ll go home with nine injured, all because somebody talked to Fleece. I doubt Kane is the mafia’s mole. He wants a cure as much as we do. But you might tell him something else, something related to the fight back home, and that might end up costing more lives.”