head on the wall again and again will help. Even obsessively gnawing hangnails until they bleed. Things like that.”
Abigail put her palms on his cheeks and tilted his head far to one side. She didn’t hesitate to touch his scarred face. You get points for having balls, Abigail. Most people shy away from that on first sight. Almost none would be willing to touch me. Her hands were gentle but firm, unintentionally caressing, and an image flitted through his mind of her bending to kiss him. Cade was thankful she couldn’t read his inappropriate thoughts. The idea of dragging her ass—and it could be a great ass if she weren’t so thin; he’d noticed the upside-down heart shape of it already—to the sheriff in Wildwood appealed less and less.
He was glad he didn’t know the deputies in Wildwood, not the way he knew them here locally in his home jurisdiction of Ocala, or Gainesville, where he’d done undercover work, before the incident that marked him for life. He could just picture himself escorting Abigail into his home station and explaining he’d been stupid enough to leave his truck running and the door standing open like an engraved invitation, and this sweet-faced woman with the capable hands had waltzed off with it.
It would be joke fodder for months. Years. He’d hear about it at every stolen vehicle report, every poker night, fishing trip, birthday parties for their kids, weddings, funerals, K-9 training sessions. The ragging would never end. Even the administrative staff and the dispatchers would get in on the fun.
No. If he took her in, and that was looking like a more remote if all the time, it wouldn’t be to any station where he was known, either currently or in the past.
She spoke again. “Does it hurt when I press, or are you just stoic?”
“It hurts a little, but I’ve had worse.”
“Really? Hmm.” She wetted yet another cotton ball and dabbed some more. “This may leave a scar. I’m sorry about that.”
The idea was ludicrous. Compared with the ugly raw meat that was the left side of his face, a half-inch nick in his scalp, easily concealed by hair, was nothing. He tried to hold in his laughter, and ended up shaking silently.
Abigail drew back and stared at Cade. “What’s so funny?”
“It might scar? ” He thrust the left side of his face toward her and said, “Like I said, I’ve had worse.”
She blushed, darkly, and it made her gray eyes sparkle. He couldn’t tell whether she was holding back tears or laughter. One knee was up on the bench to balance her, and Cade knew a sudden urge to cup her hips, stroke the long line of her thigh. What the hell, Latimer? Get a grip, and not on your suspect.
“Oh. I...see what you mean.”
“Yeah.”
“Chemical burn? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“That old standby...acid.”
“Did something blow up in your face?”
Yeah...a meth bust went bad. They’d made me and I never knew it. That little twerp and his goon of a buddy... The little twerp was smarter than I thought. I got cocky, and he got lucky, and then I got scarred.
“You could say that.” He hoped his tone would discourage more questions, but Abigail just went back to dabbing at the wound as if acid burns were something completely normal.
“It will bleed just a little more, I think. I’m going to put some of this ointment with anesthetic and antibiotics on it. It’ll be hard to bandage unless we shave the area.”
“No shaving. Does it need stitches?”
“I...don’t think so, but I’m going to try a couple of these butterfly bandages on it and see if those help close the gap.”
He felt a slight sting as she applied the cream, then it numbed the area of the cut. It was as Abigail was leaning to reach the kit again for the butterfly bandages that her much-washed chambray shirt, minus a button at bra level, gaped open. Where the plackets separated he saw the purple and yellow of bruises, both fresh and fading, on the upper curves of her breasts,
Abigail put her palms on his cheeks and tilted his head far to one side. She didn’t hesitate to touch his scarred face. You get points for having balls, Abigail. Most people shy away from that on first sight. Almost none would be willing to touch me. Her hands were gentle but firm, unintentionally caressing, and an image flitted through his mind of her bending to kiss him. Cade was thankful she couldn’t read his inappropriate thoughts. The idea of dragging her ass—and it could be a great ass if she weren’t so thin; he’d noticed the upside-down heart shape of it already—to the sheriff in Wildwood appealed less and less.
He was glad he didn’t know the deputies in Wildwood, not the way he knew them here locally in his home jurisdiction of Ocala, or Gainesville, where he’d done undercover work, before the incident that marked him for life. He could just picture himself escorting Abigail into his home station and explaining he’d been stupid enough to leave his truck running and the door standing open like an engraved invitation, and this sweet-faced woman with the capable hands had waltzed off with it.
It would be joke fodder for months. Years. He’d hear about it at every stolen vehicle report, every poker night, fishing trip, birthday parties for their kids, weddings, funerals, K-9 training sessions. The ragging would never end. Even the administrative staff and the dispatchers would get in on the fun.
No. If he took her in, and that was looking like a more remote if all the time, it wouldn’t be to any station where he was known, either currently or in the past.
She spoke again. “Does it hurt when I press, or are you just stoic?”
“It hurts a little, but I’ve had worse.”
“Really? Hmm.” She wetted yet another cotton ball and dabbed some more. “This may leave a scar. I’m sorry about that.”
The idea was ludicrous. Compared with the ugly raw meat that was the left side of his face, a half-inch nick in his scalp, easily concealed by hair, was nothing. He tried to hold in his laughter, and ended up shaking silently.
Abigail drew back and stared at Cade. “What’s so funny?”
“It might scar? ” He thrust the left side of his face toward her and said, “Like I said, I’ve had worse.”
She blushed, darkly, and it made her gray eyes sparkle. He couldn’t tell whether she was holding back tears or laughter. One knee was up on the bench to balance her, and Cade knew a sudden urge to cup her hips, stroke the long line of her thigh. What the hell, Latimer? Get a grip, and not on your suspect.
“Oh. I...see what you mean.”
“Yeah.”
“Chemical burn? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“That old standby...acid.”
“Did something blow up in your face?”
Yeah...a meth bust went bad. They’d made me and I never knew it. That little twerp and his goon of a buddy... The little twerp was smarter than I thought. I got cocky, and he got lucky, and then I got scarred.
“You could say that.” He hoped his tone would discourage more questions, but Abigail just went back to dabbing at the wound as if acid burns were something completely normal.
“It will bleed just a little more, I think. I’m going to put some of this ointment with anesthetic and antibiotics on it. It’ll be hard to bandage unless we shave the area.”
“No shaving. Does it need stitches?”
“I...don’t think so, but I’m going to try a couple of these butterfly bandages on it and see if those help close the gap.”
He felt a slight sting as she applied the cream, then it numbed the area of the cut. It was as Abigail was leaning to reach the kit again for the butterfly bandages that her much-washed chambray shirt, minus a button at bra level, gaped open. Where the plackets separated he saw the purple and yellow of bruises, both fresh and fading, on the upper curves of her breasts,
Similar Books
