He shook his head, as if he’d misheard. “Jealous of me? Why?”
“For the entire two years I spent with Michael, he talked about you and your magnificence. ‘Blue’s so good at this. Blue’s so good at that.’ What a privilege it was to work with you, blah, blah, blah. It was quite disgusting. I’d waited my whole life to be with him, only to see his devotion directed at someone else.”
He gave her a small, sad smile. “That explains a lot.”
“Yeah. But it wasn’t your fault, and I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. I am.”
“If I can get past it, you can, too. Stop apologizing.”
“Are you, though?” she continued softly. “Are you past it?”
He reached over to smooth a lock of hair behind her ear, grimaced at the smear of blood he left behind, and dropped his arm. “I really think I am.”
Think was far better than no.
“But even if I wasn’t,” he added, “you wouldn’t need to apologize again. You said it, you meant it with all your heart. If that’s not good enough for me, the problem is with me and you’d be better off dumping my ass.”
“I—”
“Don’t dump my ass,” he rushed out, and she smiled. “The only thing I’ll ever make you beg for is pleasure.”
They reached the house before she could question him further. Her beautiful redbrick home had three sets of windows on both stories, everything lit up by strategically placed night-lights. At the side of the house, she went down, down, down the ramp into the basement garage.
She parked and rushed to Blue’s side to offer her body as a crutch. He refused, linking their fingers and leading her inside. He-man, she thought with a shiver. Such strength.
He took her straight to the top floor, to the suite of rooms she’d turned into a woman’s paradise. There were plush couches and chairs made of real leather and drapes of velvet, plus gilded mirrors, and cherrywood furnishings. Her favorite? The huge bed with marble posts, swathed in ice-blue fabrics.
“Sit,” she commanded. In the bathroom, she grabbed her medical bag from under the sink.
He was in the same place she’d left him. Standing.
“I told you to sit.”
“No way. The moment I bleed on your sheets, you’ll stick me with a bill for a couple thousand dollars.”
True. “You can afford it.”
“Not if I continue to hemorrhage cash at Chez Black.”
Their arms brushed as she moved past him, and she gasped as bolts of white lightning flashed through her. Flushing, she set the bag on the nightstand and dug through the contents, removing everything she would need. Bullet extractor, hand sanitizer, two syringes of cell regenerator, bandages, and wet wipes. All packaged and sterilized.
“I’m surprised you didn’t have these supplies in your purse,” he said. “Speaking of, have you added anything new?”
“Here.” She lifted the strap over her head and handed the entire bag to him. “Have a peek.”
As she spread a plastic tarp over the bed, making sure the protective cover draped all the way to the floor, he said, “A moon rock, a glass eye, a retractable blade, a socket wrench, and 3-D glasses.” He grinned at her. “You have to tell me. Why a glass eye?”
“I thought you might lose a real one during the game and didn’t want to stare at an empty socket. Now, lie down.”
He both laughed and hissed as he stretched out on the mattress.
“Here,” she said. “Let me shoot you up with—”
“No. No drugs. Want to stay awake and keep a clear head.”
“You’ll hurt.”
“I’m not afraid of pain, princess.”
She cleaned her hands and removed the bandages he’d applied. There were two wounds, both the size of a quarter and still leaking blood. “I’ve done a little research on Arcadian anatomy since the last time we were in this position. You’ll find I’m a better doctor this go-round.”
“You were great before.”
A compliment? Injured Blue was sweet. She’d have to remember that. “Ready?” she asked, placing the cups on the extractor over both wounds.
“Do it.”
With the press of a button, the cups adhered to his chest, the camera mapped the best course for exit, and the suction slowly pulled the bullets out of his body. He cursed only eight times.
“Not better,” he gritted. “You are definitely not better.”
Don’t grin. “Need another distraction?” she asked. “Because what happens next is going to feel a thousand times worse.”
“Yeah. Distract me.”
She lobbed her first question. “Are you truly attracted to me?”
He blinked up at her. “Are you kidding me?”
“Dead serious.”
“You actually have to ask?”
“Yes. I’m not even close to being your type.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “So, your real question is whether or not I’m using you for something. Thanks a lot.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong. The question had nothing to do with your reasons and everything to do with my own insecurities. There haven’t been many men interested in inserting themselves into my life, not for long anyway, yet here you are and I just don’t get what I have to offer you.”
The faint lines around his eyes softened. “I am truly attracted to you, Evie Black. And it’s a strong attraction. The strongest I’ve ever experienced. Even though I’ve tried to fight it—and that statement has nothing to do with any kind of type.”
The strongest he’d ever experienced was with her? Watch Evie melt into a puddle of goo. “Then what?”
“What else? Your father. According to him, you’re off-limits.”
So . . . he didn’t want to upset Michael. Was that why he hadn’t gone all the way with her? “Well, he’ll never know what transpires between us.”
“He will. I’ll tell him.”
What? “Blue—”
“I’m not going to hide it, Evie.”
He had a freaking conscience. Great. “Then we’ll tell him after we’ve found John. Not that there’s much to tell,” she grumbled.
“You complaining?”
“Well, yeah. Was that not clear? I thought that was clear.”