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Okay, she was sore, swollen, but her lips weren’t really that swollen. Most of the blows had actually been against the side of her head, according to the doctor. Not that she remembered a whole lot after she had been slammed into the dresser, due to the concussion.
“This is a tease?” His lips were only a whisper against hers.
“Please, Jed,” she sighed his name roughly. “Don’t tease this time.”
Don’t tease this time.
Jed stared down at her, seeing the shadow of bruises against one side of her face, the faint swelling of her eye and her lower lip.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Piper.” He sighed, drawing back. “And I don’t want you coming to me out of fear. When the bruises have healed, then we’ll talk.”
Before he could change his mind, Jed forced himself from the truck and strode to the passenger side of the pickup. Pulling her door open, he did as he had at the hospital: Rather than allowing her to walk to the inn, he simply scooped her from the seat and carried her to the front porch.
Turning from the front door, he was heading for the side of the house when a shadow detached itself from the corner and the front door opened.
“God, no.” Piper buried her head against his shoulder as he recognized the height and breadth of the shadow before he actually glimpsed the hard lines of the savagely hewn male features in the dim light of the moon.
“Well, at least they’re not trying to run,” Natches drawled as he moved to Dawg’s side.
“I don’t know; I think I’d rather he’d run.” Amusement filled Rowdy’s voice as Jed let his gaze lock with Dawg’s.
“Now’s not the time, Dawg,” he warned the other man. “Let her rest first. Morning’s soon enough.”
Piper grunted against his shoulder. “Good luck with that one,” she muttered, her voice so low it barely reached his ear.
“Yeah, Jed, good luck with that one.” The low, slow cadence of Dawg’s voice had the hairs at the back of Jed’s neck lifting in warning.
Dawg was pissed, and he was suspicious. His gaze slid to Jed’s hold on her slight body, narrowed and intent, his look taking in the protective hold and Piper’s determination to hide her face.
“Put her down, Booker,” Dawg ordered, his voice dark and warning.
“Don’t do this, Dawg.” There was no weakness in Piper’s voice as her head lifted quickly, her obvious sense of security with the darkness surrounding them apparent.
Jed could have told her the mistake she was making, if he had had a chance.
What he saw instead was Dawg’s face.
The widening of his eyes, the paling of his flesh, the immediate awareness that one side of his sister’s face wasn’t shadow, but swollen and obviously bruised.
Just as quickly, Piper saw the reaction as well, if her sharply indrawn breath and the tension invading her body was any indication.
“No.” The harsh order that left her lips as Dawg stepped forward surprisingly had him stopping in his tracks. “It’s none of your business, Dawg.”
Rowdy and Natches were quick to move around them, their reactions no less as shocked as Dawg’s.
“None of my business?” Dawg all but wheezed, his expression tortured, as his cousins, positioned for a much better view, stared at her in horror as the sensors on the motion lights caught the movement and flipped on overhead.
“Oh, my God, Piper . . .” Agonized, Dawg’s voice roughed to a harsh, gut-clenching rasp.
Anguish filled the three men’s gazes and tightened their expressions as they stared down at her, obviously fighting to process the bruised condition of her face.
As though in one movement, their heads jerked to Jed, their gazes piercing as they stared at him.
Hell, his face was likely to take the brunt of six fists pounding on it before the night was over, because he was damned if he could give them what he knew they were silently demanding.
An explanation.
Now.
