Page 7 of Frost and Venom

Her heart stuttered. “You stay here. I’ll go get the car.” Something was very wrong. She should have realized Wilder would never be sweating or stumbling the way he was if the injury wasn’t bad.

He kept walking. As he did, he slid one palm to her lower back and pressed gently to keep her moving. “Let’s just get there, babe.”

Under any other circumstances, she would have objected strenuously to being called babe by him. Now, she just wanted to get him safely to her home.

“Distract me. Talk. Tell me why you were out here when you know better and why you were crying.”

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t understand how you can manage to be annoying even when you’re clearly seriously wounded.”

He flashed that faint grin of his that could melt the panties right off a woman. “It’s a gift.”

Harlow was slightly ashamed that she reacted to that little grin. It seemed a little perverted that she was thinking of sex when he was most likely bleeding to death. His skin had a grayish hue and was beaded with sweat. He might act confident, but he was severely injured. Ordinarily, she would have taken charge, but Wilder wasn’t a man she could manipulate or control, not even when it came to his health. She kept walking, determined to get him to her house as soon as she could.

“Wilder, it’s clear you’re really injured. I should give Rainier a call. He can come help me.”

His palm crept up her back to settle around the nape of her neck as they walked. “I don’t want you to call Rainier unless you absolutely need to. I wasn’t working for him. He’ll be pissed as hell and feel responsible when he isn’t. I walked into an ambush. They were waiting for me.”

At his tone, she glanced up at his face. He wore the expressionless mask that was normal for him, but his eyes were alive with something deadly. A chill crept down her spine. Wilder wasn’t going to let this go, no matter what she said. She kept her head down, looking at the ground as they covered the distance to her home. More and more, he leaned his weight into her. She was certain he wasn’t even aware of it. That alarmed her. Wilder was always aware. She was calling Rainier whether he liked it or not.

“This is my mess. I’ll clean it up.”

She narrowed her gaze and flashed him a frown, hoping it was intimidating. He didn’t look in the least bit as if it were. “Stop reading my mind.”

“Is that what you think I do? Woman, really? Your friend Vienna is the poker player. Definitely not you. You have this little storm that gathers in your eyes when you’re about to do something you know I won’t like.”

“That must happen all the time because you don’t like anything I do.” It hurt even to say it, but it was the truth, and sometimes, throughout her life with her parents, telling herself the truth was the only thing that saved her pride. She had a code, and she lived by it. It was very, very far from her parents’ code.

Wilder stumbled, and her heart nearly stopped. His fingers tightened on the nape of her neck as if she were his support, keeping him from falling over.

“Unfortunately for the two of us, I like everything you do. That storm building in your eyes is sexy as hell.” There was a trace of amusement in his voice.

She wasn’t touching that. He had to be so loopy from his wound that he didn’t have a clue what he was saying. She’d had many encounters with Wilder. Most of them weren’t that good. He rarely spoke, and when he looked at her, deep inside, fireworks went off—but for her, not him.

The house was in sight now. “We’re going to lay you down in the front bedroom. I’ll get my medical supplies, and you’ll need to remove your clothes.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact. “If it’s too difficult, I can cut them off you.”

Wilder’s fingers still firm around the nape of her neck. “Best not to put those images in my head when I can’t do anything about it.”

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You’re really injured, Wilder. I’m a nurse.”

“Believe me, I know you’re a nurse. Every mission I take, I spend an inordinate amount of time weaving fantasies around you in your cute little scrubs.”

“You’re definitely delirious.” She shoved open the door to her house, waving Misha inside.

“Damn it, Harlow. You didn’t lock the door. You know better than that.” For a moment, his fingers dug into her neck as if he might strangle her. “It’s a good thing I’ll be staying with you. You know with the crap going on with your family there have been death threats made.”

“Against my father.”

“Against you. Your father, your mother, and you. Even if there hadn’t been threats made, you lock your doors and don’t go running in the middle of the night.” He sounded exasperated. “That’s just a safety rule for all women, but someone with your looks and…” He trailed off, shaking his head as she aided him through the house to the nearest bedroom.

Harlow would have given him her room had it been the closest, but thankfully, she had a perfectly good guest room clean and ready near the front of the house. He nearly fell onto the bed. It wasn’t just the way his legs gave out but the suppressed groan that galvanized her into action. She raced to the hall closet where she kept her medical supplies, detouring to send Rainier an SOS and give him the details she had, which were practically none. She told him if he had Wilder’s type blood to bring it and come prepared to operate.

She was back in the bedroom and tugging off Wilder’s boots and then cutting away his shirt. It alarmed her that he didn’t protest or make some kind of sexual innuendo. The sense of urgency in her grew at an alarming rate. She was furious with herself. She’d been feeling sorry for herself and then caught up in her very unprofessional sexual attraction while Wilder was most likely bleeding internally. She hadn’t even asked him if he’d been shot or stabbed in hand-to-hand combat. What kind of nurse was she? Besotted. Silly. Foolish. Selfish.

“Stop what you’re thinking. I like you just the way you are.”

She cut his shirt off. It was soaked with blood. Soaked. How had she not seen that? Smelled it? She knew what blood smelled like. She pulled regular shifts in the emergency room. Her heart began to pound at the sight of his mangled body. He didn’t just have one wound; he had several. To her horror, there definitely was a gunshot wound. The others appeared to have been done by a knife.

“Your eyes are closed. Don’t even tell me you’re reading my expression.” She wanted to keep him talking, keep him alive until Rainier arrived. She never panicked. That was what made her such a good surgical nurse. She never lost her nerve or her focus.