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“I know what a mini fridge is, Nash.”
He licks his lips as he watches mine, and I have to look away from him.
“Why are you asking?”
He tilts that handsome head of his once more. “To refrigerate things.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, but I find myself smiling as well.
“Angel said it’ll be a few days before the patrols move a little further north. I’d prefer not to have to deal with all these fucking people more often than we have to. If there’s a fridge, we can grab a few groceries while we’re out.”
“There isn’t a fridge,” I say, rather than tell him how annoying it is for him to explain things to me like I’m a child.
“We can grab jerky and shit then. Come on.”
I follow him to one of the shops, wondering just how much time he spent in Monterrey before getting taken. He seems to know the area rather well.
He pays for shoes and two more changes of clothes without an argument. I grab undergarments for myself when he places a package of boxer briefs in the shopping cart, ignoring the way his eyes lock on the simple panties and sports bra I’ve selected.
At the counter, he pulls a box containing a prepaid phone from the shelf and purchases that as well.
“To call your sister,” he says when I look from the phone to him as the cashier rings him up.
My eyes burn at his consideration. They sting even more when, for the first time since the group rushed into the room killing Pirro and his men, he touches me. It’s a simple squeeze of my hand, but it carries with it a level of reassurance that things will get better that I didn’t know I was desperate for.
He lifts his hand, his intention to swipe at a tear that managed to escape, when the cashier gives him his total.
For some reason, I hate the interruption when he pulls his hand up short, only to reach into his pocket for cash.
“I think you need bandages for some of those cuts,” I tell him as we leave the store.
He looks down at me, another small smile playing on his lips that says he’s aware that I watched him walk naked into the bathroom earlier today.
“I’m most concerned about the one on your ribs.”
“I’m more concerned about the tattoo on the back of my neck. Do you think you could take it off for me if I got the right supplies?”
“I want mine gone too,” I say, stopping once again in the middle of the sidewalk to look up at him.
“A tattoo cover up would be less painful,” he says.
“I don’t want it on me.”
He nods, understanding completely. I don’t think it would help at all to know that the numbers were still there just not visible.
What I don’t tell him is that my sister knows I’d never get a tattoo. It doesn’t make sense to be afraid of needles as a nurse, but I didn’t get to pick my phobias.
“We’ll do it for each other,” he says as he redirects me to a shop that’s very similar to what a pharmacy would look like back home.
Chapter 28
Nash
“You don’t have to do it this way,” I tell her as she paces back and forth across the room.
She glares at me as if it pisses her off that I’m trying to talk her out of it.
It’s not that I don’t think she can handle the pain. Ayla might possibly be the strongest woman I’ve ever met. I don’t want to be the one to cause her any more pain. Despite the scalpel being sharp as hell, there’s no way around hurting her if it means I’m going to filet the skin on the back of her neck to remove the four-nineteen there.
“How about I go first?” I ask, holding the scalpel out to her.
Her nursing education came out in full force at the store with her insisting on two different scalpels, one for each of us, all the while being absolutely floored with the abundance of supplies readily available for the general public.
She insisted on a round of antibiotics for me, frowning when the clerk asked for a prescription.
When told we didn’t have one, he pulled a prescription pad from under the counter and filled it out, actually taking the time to hand it to me just so I could hand it back to him. Mexico is fucking crazy in some parts.
“I’m only a nurse,” she says as she takes the scalpel.
I don’t hesitate to pull my shirt over my head. I don’t exactly have a closet to pick from if I get blood on it.
It takes a long moment for her eyes to make it back to mine.
“You have so many muscles.”
A grin threatens, but I manage to keep it hidden. I’ve already fucked up more than once today by smiling.
