Page 58 of Nothing to Fear

Once they hit the intersection with the larger Potomac River, he let his lungs relax, took a deep breath, and settled into the captain’s chair. “Can you hand me the med kit?”

Willow set the backpack on the floor to grab the kit. He slipped out of his jacket and grunted, peeling off his T-shirt, careful not to smear any blood. Plenty already on his abdomen. He didn’t need more in other places.

When he looked up, he found her staring at him, her gaze touring his torso. An odd look swam in her glazed eyes, as if she vacillated between curiosity and pity.

Pity was the worst. He never wanted anyone feeling sorry for him, and he’d rather scoop out his eyes with a rusty spoon than see it in anyone else’s. Not since he was eight, when one of his mom’s boyfriends busted his jaw. It’d taken two plates, twelve screws, and six weeks to heal.

He held out his hand for the kit, willing to trade a kidney to know her thoughts.

She glanced at his abdomen and set the med case in his palm. “The gauze is soaked.”

“You should go out on deck. Get some air while I take care of this.”

“Take care of it?” Incredulity washed across her face. “You’re going to clean the wound and stitch yourself up while driving the boat?”

“Yep.” Wouldn’t be easy, but he’d done it before. More than once. Well, not while driving anything. “I’ll put the boat on autopilot. If you could keep an eye out for obstacles, that’d be good.”

Her eyebrows ratcheted up and her jaw unhinged. “That’s crazy. You’re going to stop the boat, and I’m going to help you.”

“It’ll be messy. Not just the blood. The sight of soft tissue can be too much for some.” And he’d rather not put her through that.

She snatched the kit from him. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. You’re not alone.”

23

Potomac River, Virginia

Friday, July 5, 4:30 p.m. EDT

The last time he let a woman take care of him in any capacity—Maddox not included—it had ended up being one of the biggest regrets of his life.

Gideon shook his head. “I’ve stitched up others and myself so many times, I should be an honorary medic.”

“You’re hurt because of me. Let me help you.” The unadulterated look of entreaty on her face sent the strangest sensation rolling through the pit of his stomach. “Please, Gideon.”

Her eyes shone with a resolve that wouldn’t take no for a response. Not many people would be willing to do what she proposed, and fewer still could stomach it. Her offer meant more than he’d care to admit. Against his better judgment, he nodded.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

“Put this in the squeeze bottle.” He gave her a packet of salt. “Fill it with water to flush out the wound.” A saline solution was better than alcohol or hydrogen peroxide, which could damage the skin and delay healing. “And I need an extra four ounces of plain water.”

While she scrubbed her hands at the sink, he shut the engine and laid out everything from the med kit. Damn it, he was out of gloves and thread for stitches, which meant they’d have to use the skin stapler.

She hurried to him with the other supplies. He stared at her, looking past her stained blouse, the loose red hair flowing around her shoulders, soiled legs, scuffed shoes. Past her haunting beauty that had hooked him and wouldn’t let go. She exuded such an alluring warmth.

Tension shivered through him, rippling deep to that cold pit in his gut.

The ugliness that was his job drained him, sucked the soul dry, leaving him a wretched husk on a good day. But the way she made him feel—the fact that she made him feel anything at all—was nothing short of a miracle.

“Maybe asking you to do something that’ll give you nightmares isn’t a good idea.” With this shitstorm she had to contend with, he didn’t want to add to her troubles. “It’s okay if you want to reconsider.” No way he’d blame her. “Besides, I don’t have gloves.”

Which was reason enough not to embroil her in the horrible nitty-gritty bits of this job analysts never had to see. Bits he never wanted her to see. Much less touch without gloves.

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And I don’t dream, so no danger of nightmares.” She set everything on the dinette table. “I’ll work better without gloves. Latex irritates my skin.”

Suddenly, not having condoms was a positive.

As quickly as the errant thought had sprouted, he hacked it away. He was bleeding from his gut. This wasn’t the time to think about the wild, dirty sex he wasn’t going to have with her.