me?”
“Because I’m trying to fix you something to eat,” she said, her voice filled with exasperation.
“It doesn’t bother you to see me in a towel, does it?”
“Don’t be an idiot.” She glared at him, refusing to acknowledge that her heart was pinging hard against her ribs.
One side of his mouth curved. “Red, you’re refreshing as hell.”
“I’m glad at least one of us is finding the situation amusing.” Turning away from him, she stalked into the living room, swung open the closet door and jerked the blue flannel shirt off a hanger. Back in the kitchen she thrust it at him. Because she couldn’t quite meet his gaze, she found herself staring at the sterile gauze he’d taped haphazardly to his shoulder. She could see that the surrounding flesh was swollen and discolored, and hoped to God it wasn’t as serious as it looked. “That’s a pathetic excuse for a bandage.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t do a very good job with one hand.” He gazed steadily at her. “I’m going to need you to butterfly me.”
She didn’t want to get anywhere near him, let alone administer first aid. “Look, Jack, the only stuff I know about first aid comes from the occasional episode of E.R. ”
“That’s good enough for me.” Wincing a little, he eased into the shirt, then looked down at the pink towel wrapped around his hips. “How long until my pants are dry? I want to be out of all this pink by the time Chandler arrives. It doesn’t do much for my credibility.”
“I hate to tell you this, Jack, but you don’t have any credibility.”
His smile was cold. “I’d almost forgotten how cutting you can be.”
“I don’t want you here. What do you expect?”
“The benefit of a doubt.”
“Maybe we should just concentrate on getting through the next couple of hours without coming to blows.” She carried their plates to the dining room table. Though she didn’t look at him, she felt his gaze on her as she pulled out a chair and sat.
Momentarily, he followed and sat next to her. Without looking up or speaking, he ate like a man possessed, making her wonder how long it had been since he’d had any food.
As she watched him, a sudden jolt of despair wrenched at her. She told herself it was the feelings she’d once had for him fueling the doubts inside her. Damn it, she trusted the criminal justice system. He’d had a fair trial. Justice had been served. She’d seen the evidence. She’d heard the witnesses testify against him. Yet buried in the recesses of her mind, a shadow of doubt had taken root. Was it possible Evan had gotten himself into trouble and been killed for it? Was Cyrus Duke involved? Could Jack be innocent?
She tried not to imagine what he’d been through. As an assistant prosecutor, she’d been inside prisons before. She knew how the inmates were treated. She knew the humiliations, the violence and the lack of humanity that was an integral part of prison life. She knew what being locked in a cage did to a man. She knew what it had done to her own father. The parallels between the two men made her shiver.
Jack had lost everything in the past year. His best friend. His career. His freedom. Yet he’d endured, never sacrificing his dignity. What kind of a man did that make him? A murderer who wanted freedom at any cost? Or a survivor who was willing to risk it all to prove his innocence?
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
The sound of his voice startled her, and Landis realized with some embarrassment that she’d been staring. “Everything I have is in the medicine cabinet. Gauze and tape.”
“Antibiotic cream?”
“Yes.” His politeness was beginning to annoy her. It would be easier to hate him if he were rude.
“What you need is a doctor,” she said, praying that for once in his life he would agree with her. “Not me to play nursemaid.”
Rising, she gathered his dishes, her own untouched food, and took them to the sink. Even without looking at him, she knew he
“Because I’m trying to fix you something to eat,” she said, her voice filled with exasperation.
“It doesn’t bother you to see me in a towel, does it?”
“Don’t be an idiot.” She glared at him, refusing to acknowledge that her heart was pinging hard against her ribs.
One side of his mouth curved. “Red, you’re refreshing as hell.”
“I’m glad at least one of us is finding the situation amusing.” Turning away from him, she stalked into the living room, swung open the closet door and jerked the blue flannel shirt off a hanger. Back in the kitchen she thrust it at him. Because she couldn’t quite meet his gaze, she found herself staring at the sterile gauze he’d taped haphazardly to his shoulder. She could see that the surrounding flesh was swollen and discolored, and hoped to God it wasn’t as serious as it looked. “That’s a pathetic excuse for a bandage.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t do a very good job with one hand.” He gazed steadily at her. “I’m going to need you to butterfly me.”
She didn’t want to get anywhere near him, let alone administer first aid. “Look, Jack, the only stuff I know about first aid comes from the occasional episode of E.R. ”
“That’s good enough for me.” Wincing a little, he eased into the shirt, then looked down at the pink towel wrapped around his hips. “How long until my pants are dry? I want to be out of all this pink by the time Chandler arrives. It doesn’t do much for my credibility.”
“I hate to tell you this, Jack, but you don’t have any credibility.”
His smile was cold. “I’d almost forgotten how cutting you can be.”
“I don’t want you here. What do you expect?”
“The benefit of a doubt.”
“Maybe we should just concentrate on getting through the next couple of hours without coming to blows.” She carried their plates to the dining room table. Though she didn’t look at him, she felt his gaze on her as she pulled out a chair and sat.
Momentarily, he followed and sat next to her. Without looking up or speaking, he ate like a man possessed, making her wonder how long it had been since he’d had any food.
As she watched him, a sudden jolt of despair wrenched at her. She told herself it was the feelings she’d once had for him fueling the doubts inside her. Damn it, she trusted the criminal justice system. He’d had a fair trial. Justice had been served. She’d seen the evidence. She’d heard the witnesses testify against him. Yet buried in the recesses of her mind, a shadow of doubt had taken root. Was it possible Evan had gotten himself into trouble and been killed for it? Was Cyrus Duke involved? Could Jack be innocent?
She tried not to imagine what he’d been through. As an assistant prosecutor, she’d been inside prisons before. She knew how the inmates were treated. She knew the humiliations, the violence and the lack of humanity that was an integral part of prison life. She knew what being locked in a cage did to a man. She knew what it had done to her own father. The parallels between the two men made her shiver.
Jack had lost everything in the past year. His best friend. His career. His freedom. Yet he’d endured, never sacrificing his dignity. What kind of a man did that make him? A murderer who wanted freedom at any cost? Or a survivor who was willing to risk it all to prove his innocence?
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
The sound of his voice startled her, and Landis realized with some embarrassment that she’d been staring. “Everything I have is in the medicine cabinet. Gauze and tape.”
“Antibiotic cream?”
“Yes.” His politeness was beginning to annoy her. It would be easier to hate him if he were rude.
“What you need is a doctor,” she said, praying that for once in his life he would agree with her. “Not me to play nursemaid.”
Rising, she gathered his dishes, her own untouched food, and took them to the sink. Even without looking at him, she knew he
Similar Books
