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She glanced back at him in surprise. “I didn’t know. ” She finally shook her head as she felt the pain of not knowing, of not being there if or when he had needed her. He had promised to protect her seven years before, and she knew that if he knew the truth about the Robertses, he would make certain neither Richard nor Annalee darkened her life again. Yet, she hadn’t been able to even contact him, to make certain he was alright.
“Would knowing have mattered?” His expression turned cynical, cool. “Chase was there. I was in Germany for several months recuperating. I wasn’t alone. ”
“But I didn’t know,” she said again. “I would have been there. ”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t need pretty words, sweetheart. I survived. That was all that mattered. ”
Yes he had, and he had somehow, somewhere, turned cold and hard, so that she wondered if the Cam she had been so fascinated with even existed anymore.
And whether he did or not, she needed to know the damage done. She needed to know what had happened to the man she had idolized, the extent of his pain, and how bad the enemy had scarred his precious body.
It wasn’t the scarring that bothered her so much, it was the pain. The scar across his cheek made him appear more wicked—rakish and dangerous. But the thought of the pain he must have felt traveled through her mind and pushed her, tormented her, drove her to see how much worse it had been.
“I want to see. ” She moved from the couch as he watched her, surprised when she pushed his knees apart and knelt between them, her fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.
The icy expression he had come in with was gone, at least. But she didn’t know what to think about the faintly quizzical expression of male confusion in his eyes as he watched her.
“You want to see what?”
“How bad they hurt you,” she whispered. “I need to see, Cam. ”
Cameron watched, his head slightly tilted, his arms resting carefully on the sides of the chair, as Jaci’s slender, graceful fingers trembled over the buttons of his shirt and began to slip them free.
With any other woman, he would have pushed her from him and walked away. He couldn’t tolerate pity, or the horrified distaste that often filled their eyes. But this wasn’t any other woman, this was Jaci. And he knew from past experience how she had worried when she was younger, feared for him when she knew he was on a mission.
And he needed to know now, if the scars, the superficial damage done to his body, was going to disgust her. There had been no chance for her to pay attention the night before. He and Chase had overwhelmed her before they even got their shirts off. And she had been exhausted, curled up in sleep by the time he moved from the bed.
“Taking my shirt off could have other consequences, sweetheart,” he warned her, as her fingers moved down the shirt, the material parting as she moved lower.
Her gaze lifted to his as the last button released and her shaking hands moved to part the edges of the shirt. Then her eyes lowered and he watched her grow pale. He saw the tears that filled her unusual eyes, the trembling of her lips as her fingers whispered over the worst of the scarring.
He’d taken two bullets, and the bastard that wielded the knife as he was bleeding to death on the ground had sliced not just his face, but his chest and upper arms as well, before Cam could use the sidearm he’d had in his hand.
That night had been hell on earth. Half his team had been lost in the ambush. Cam had been certain he would die before the extraction team made it in.
Silken-soft hands smoothing the material of the shirt back from his shoulders drew him from his thoughts. The fine cotton slid over his muscles, clearly revealing the damage, as the auburn-haired little sprite let a single tear fall.
“Hey, no tears. ” He frowned, reaching out to wipe the tear from her face. “It was a long time ago, baby. Barely remembered. ”
She shook her head, the soft fall of dark fire whispering across her cheek as her lips trembled again and her fingertips, like a breath of fiery sensation, eased over the slashed scars.
They weren’t as bad as they had been, but they were still pretty horrific. Deep slashes had forever marked his flesh. He’d been damned lucky the enemy had poor aim that night. The one bullet had done the worse damage, so close to his heart that just a breath closer and there would have been no saving him. Angels must have been watching over him, because the bullet had nicked a lung, missed everything else vital, and tore through his back. But he’d lived.
“I would have come if I had known. ” Another tear fell as Cam watched her in confusion.
Chase had come to him, but there had been no one else to call, no one else to care that he existed for weeks within the shadow land of his own mind.
“Why?” He watched her expression carefully.
He had wanted her then. He barely remembered anything from those pain-ridden months, except the pain and his need for Jaci. And later, he struggled with his fear that the scarring would disgust her. Women were strange creatures at times, he had learned. The brutal slashes along his chest and back weren’t a pretty sight. And women did like their pretty things.
There was no disgust in Jaci’s eyes, though. The only horror was for what pain he may have felt, not the physical imperfection he now carried.
“Why?” Disbelief filled her eyes as they lifted to him. “Because I cared, Cam. I wouldn’t have left you alone. ”
“Chase was there. ” Who else was supposed to be there?
She shook her head, her lips pressing together to still their trembling. He wanted to lower his head and kiss them, to steal the saddened curve of them and fill her with hunger, instead of with pain.
