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Ava crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you even know what love is, Captain?”
He winced and took a deep breath through the pain her words caused. Slowly, he pushed up off the wall he leaned against and stalked to her. She didn’t turn to face him as he walked right up to her side and lowered his head.
“I know exactly what it is,” he bit out. “And I know exactly how it should act.”
She hissed in a breath. “How dare you!”
She did turn then, facing him in all her outraged glory. He ached for the pain he’d caused her but he wouldn’t let her hide behind it anymore. He’d gotten lucky enough to catch her and he wasn’t letting her go. “I’ll dare that and anything else I have to if it means you listen to me.”
He reached for her arm, noticing that a sullen drop of blood had welled on her wound.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
She stomped her foot and her mouth set in a mutinous line.
“Sit down and let me dress that wound or we’ll stand here arguing while you bleed,” he told her. The sight of her blood was abhorrent to him, but he knew more than anybody else how stubborn Ava could be. It was at once her greatest fault and strength. He was hoping that stubbornness played in his favor—that her love for him hadn’t died over the last two years. Or at the very least, the fires of her rage had banked enough for him to walk over the coals to get back to her.
She sat.
He walked into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit he knew he’d find under the sink. Then he lowered to the bed beside her and went about cleaning and dressing the skin that had been kissed by a bullet.
It didn’t need stitches. Steri-strips handled the job and then he placed a square of gauze over the strips and wrapped it with an ace bandage. The skin above and below remained clear. With no sign of infection she should heal quickly.
And if his hand lingered on her creamy shoulder or at the curve of her elbow, who was there to call him out? Because Ava had her head turned, refusing to acknowledge him.
“You’re lucky,” he murmured.
She glanced up at him then, eyes wide, mouth parted. She was mad but mixed in with that was awareness. Her body remembered him and ached. His did the same. Cap wondered if her nipples were pebbled under the towel. He surreptitiously scented the air for her arousal. She was bare beneath that rectangular piece of cotton and he wanted. Her honey had always teased him and now was no different.
“Stop, Cap. Just…stop.” Her voice was breathy and low. It moved him in ways he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She rarely spoke, preferred to use sign language, but he hadn’t seen her delicate hands lift in sign at all since this reunion.
“I won’t, Ava.” He made the vow so she’d know what he was coming for. “I want it all this time, and I’m not letting you run.”
“Why do you care if they get me? I know absolutely nothing about what Daddy was doing. I can’t tell secrets I don’t have.”
“I’d never intentionally hurt you,” he said in a low voice. Another vow.
She looked up at him. “And as I said earlier, you already have.”
“You’re not running again. You’re going to listen to me and I’m going to take care of this threat to you.”
“Why?”
She stood then and lowered her arms, hands fisted, body shaking. He wanted to go to her, grab her up and press her against his body so he could ease her fear and pain. But it wasn’t time for that yet.
Instead, he looked her straight in the face and said the words he should have said that night she ran from him—the night he’d shown her the video of her father’s assassination.
“Because I love you more than my next breath.”
CHAPTER THREE
Ava dressed in a hurry. Cap had dropped his bomb and walked out the door with the promise of bringing her food. After that, Ava was sure he’d want to do more of this talking he seemed so intent on.
His words had stolen her breath. The smile he’d given her after he said them had set her on fire. She was afraid if breathed in too deep now those flames would be stoked and she’d jump him the moment he walked back in.
She hadn’t bothered to lock the door. He’d just find another way in.
She’d found a pair of jeans and a navy t-shirt in the bathroom, both in her size. There had also been a brand-new pack of underwear and a bra in her size, with the tags still on it. She didn’t bother with the new socks and left her feet bare. She felt better dressed, though. Dealing with Captain Jacobs while standing in nothing more than a towel had tested her resolve.
