Angels In Red (4 page)

The woman sneezed, and cried out in pain. Her head lifted off the pillow and fell back down. Jack hurried to her side to find a trail of tears slipping into her hairline. She stared at him with green, fear-filled eyes.

He searched her face for any sign of being in pain. “Do you remember anything? What’s your name?”

She nodded slightly, and her lips parted. “Jenna...Jenna Blackburn.” A tremor laced her voice.

“My name is Jack Davis. Are you in much pain?”

“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe. Let me get you something for the pain. We’ll have plenty of time to talk when you’re up to it.”

He opened the first aid case beside the couch.

“Are you allergic to anything?”

She closed her eyes and mouthed the word no.

He filled an eyedropper with pain medication. “Okay, Jenna, I’m going to lift your head a little so this medicine can slide down your throat. It’s probably going to hurt.”  He slipped his hand between the back of her head and the couch. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Jack carefully lifted her head, hating to be the reason behind her pain-filled eyes and creased forehead, marring her otherwise flawless skin. Her lips parted, and he gently laid the dropper on her tongue, squeezing the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed easily, and he slowly set her head back down.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “Thank you.”

Within seconds, her eyelids started to droop.

“The medicine will make you sleepy. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” He smiled down at her as her facial muscles relax and her eyes close.

Jenna opened her eyes to darkness, except for the low flame burning in the fireplace. She’d dreamed about being buried in the snow...white snow turning red. She shuddered. It wasn’t
just
a dream.

The doors were closed, and only one of the dogs snored softly next to the hearth. If memory served her correctly, she owed its master her life.

How did he find me buried under the snow?

The horror of crashing through the guardrail flashed in her mind. There hadn’t been anything she could do to stop her car from dropping over the side of the mountain.

Jenna drew in a ragged breath and blinked back the tears.

I truly thought I was going to die.
 

She shivered. A picture of her father and Charles replaced the horrific accident that would surely haunt her dreams for quite some time to come. She remembered the party, her father announcing Harold Meed had asked for her hand in marriage—and he’d given his blessing.

Her stomach churned at the thought of being married to such a man. Not only was he much older, he was a drunk—a drunk who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.
Maybe if my father knew the ogre has been obsessed with me for quite some time...

It serves dear ol’ Dad right if he’s worried about me, but Charles...and Edna. 
Both were her saviors for as far back as she could remember. One, or sometimes both, often stepped in, sparing her from yet another argument with her father
.
Since her mother’s death five years ago, Kenneth Blackburn the Third had changed into an angry, bitter little man who seemed to take great pleasure in dictating her life. His mission since she’d turned twenty was to marry her off.
Oh how I miss the man he once was… the father, he once was…

How long have I been here?
The urge to pee became a nuisance.
How did I go pee before now?
She shivered.
Maybe I don’t want to know the answer to that one, or how I ended up wearing these oversized pajamas and thick wool socks.

The distance between the sofa and where she believed the bathroom to be didn’t seem too far away.
Maybe if I take it slow...

Jenna braced for the pain as she lifted her head. It definitely hurt, but not even remotely close to the excruciating pain from her first attempt. Even so, there wasn’t an inch of her body that didn’t cry out in protest as she moved her legs to the side of the sofa and let them fall over the edge. “Erg!”

She held her breath. The dog by the fire lifted its head and looked directly at her.

Shit.

The need to pee increased tenfold. “Go back to sleep, boy,” she whispered hoarsely and brought her body up to a sitting position. She remained perfectly still until the room stopped spinning. When it did, she noticed the dog was now at her side, licking her hand.

At least he’s not trying to eat me. Or is he deciding if I taste good?

Once she was convinced the dog liked her, she planned her next move.
If I can get around to the back of that big chair, I can hang onto it.
After that it would be only a few feet to the one open door.

Jenna took a deep breath and, using the arm of the couch, pushed herself upright. A burst of fire ignited from under the bandages that covered her two fingers. She breathed deeply for a moment until the pain ebbed a bit. Sweat dripped from her brow. All she’d managed to do was stand up, and it felt like she’d run a marathon.

A bark shattered the silence.

“Hush! Good boy, come here.” She tried to coax him to her, but he was having no part of it, and continued to bark relentlessly.

The second door flew open, startling her backwards. The rigid jarring knocked the breath from her, and she cried out as her body collapsed over the arm of the couch, searing pain blazed throughout her. Her legs now hung over the side and her back on the cushions, akin to the position she had to get in at the gynecologist—only now there was no cold, metal foot stirrup or red-faced doctor, only intense pain and her own face growing warm at being caught in such a predicament.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The man, Jack, hurried to her side and helped her—painfully—to a sitting position. She noticed he wore only jeans, not even the belt done up, bare chest and feet and sandy blond hair disheveled from sleep.

Her bottom lip trembled; she hated the weakness at not being able to stop the tears from falling. She’d cried more in the past few days than she had in years.

The fire’s light played on his perfectly sculpted chest and washboard stomach. Jenna feigned interest in something on her pajama bottoms, suddenly very aware of how close he was to her. He lifted her chin with a finger —entranced, she had no choice but to look into his baby blues.

“Listen, you’re recovering from a very serious accident. If you fall, you could do some damage to your already fragile physical state. I’m here to help you.”

“I was trying to…er…I just needed to…” She nodded in the direction of the doors.

He chuckled, further intensifying her embarrassment.

“I’m glad one of us finds this amusing.” She lowered her lashes, now thoroughly mortified.

“Come on, I’ll give you a hand to the bathroom. Let’s take it slow.” He helped her to stand and tucked her arm around the crook of his. With every step her muscles were forced to take, darts of pain shot off like firecrackers. Finally, they reached the destination, and he took her inside the small room.

“Do you think you can manage on your own now?”

Truth be known, she was weak as a babe, but if she had any hope of salvaging even a thread of dignity, his help had to stop at the door.

“I think so,” she said, though she still couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Okay, I’ll be right outside here if you need me.” He bowed and closed the door.

Pulling down her bottoms proved to be a monumental task; she still had on the same panties she wore the day she left the house.

Jenna carefully sat and relieved herself.

“Jack? Where exactly am I.”

“Well, the nearest city is Grand Marais, Minnesota.” He paused. “I guess you could say my cabin is a little, isolated.”

Isolated? That’s on odd choice of words.

“So it’s safe to say you’re not some mentally deranged recluse who is going to chop me up to fee
d to your dogs?”

His laughter made her smile.

“Seriously.”  He laughed some more. “If I was some nut job, do you really think I’d tell you first?”

Her laughter came to a full stop as she grit her teeth against the hurting as she kicked her legs through the pajama bottoms, leaving her lacy thong to hang from her foot.

Now what the hell do I do?

She couldn’t reach down; she couldn’t stand up. Like it or not, she needed help.

Tired, and more than a little frustrated, she pulled her top down to cover her privates and begrudgingly called, “Okay, you win.”

Jack peeked through a crack in the door. “Are you okay?”

Her shoulders sagged. “I need your help.” She tried to be strong, but simply didn’t have any strength left.

He probably thinks I’m
a great big wimp.

The door opened and he seemed to access the situation while stroking his jaw. “What exactly are you trying to do?”

“I wanted to rinse out my…my panties.” Her cheeks heated.

“I see. I’m sorry, but I don’t think mine will fit you.”

She looked up to find a grin spread across his rugged face, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

Her lip trembled. Never had she been so physically and emotionally defeated. “Can you please just help me?”

His expression changed to one of concern. “I’m sorry.” He stooped over, took the thong off of her foot, and set it in the sink before guiding her feet back into the pajama bottoms and pulling them up to rest on her knees. “There, will you be okay now to...um, rinse them out?” He rolled his eyes as his cheeks stained pink.

Having the tables turned, even for a moment, broke the tension, and she smirked. “Yes, thank you.”

Jack backed out of the bathroom and closed the door. His act of kindness touched her heart. A man in tune to a woman’s needs was a rare breed indeed. Most men wouldn’t even think to let her finish what she had started on her own.

Thankfully, she could reach the sink and turn on the water from her position on the toilet. After wetting a bar of soap, she set about trying to wash her thong without getting her bandages wet. Not that there was much fabric to wash. After rinsing them out, she laid them over the side of the sink to dry.

The warm water running over her hands reminded her that her panties weren’t the only thing not washed in quite some time. She could feel where the blood had dried and caked around the back of her neck. Night sweats had left behind an odor she could seriously live without.

Moving carefully, she gradually pulled up her bottoms as she straightened. She stepped back enough to open the door.

Jack stood to one side with his arms folded across his bare chest. He simply smiled and offered his arm, of which she gratefully accepted.

The couch seemed a mile away. By the time her head hit the pillow, and he’d helped her under a blanket, she was worn right out and unable to stop her eyes filling with moisture.

“What’s wrong, Jenna?”

The genuine concern in his expressive blue eyes moved her. She sighed wearily. “I really wanted to wash up, but I just didn’t have the strength to do it.”

He fell silent for a second before his eyes lit up. “I can bring you some warm water and soap, a towel maybe, and you can wash up right here. Would you like to try?”

Embarrassed at needing assistance for such a simple yet personal matter, she avoided eye contact. “If you’ll help me, yes.”

“Of course I will. I’ll be right back.”

Jack eyed his patient one more time, then quickly returned to the bathroom, filled up a basin and opened a fresh bar of soap. He grabbed a clean towel and carried it out to her. “So, how do we go about this?”

“If you could help me to sit up and wash this dry blood away, I’d feel much better.”

I’m such an idiot…of course the crusted blood would be uncomfortable to say the least.
“I’m so sorry. When I brought you home, my main concern was to bandage you up and keep you warm.”

He gently helped her to sit, and propped a couple of pillows behind her back. When she unbuttoned the pajama top, he turned his head, not wanting to add to her discomfort.

Jenna tapped his shoulder.  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get all naked.” Her laughter was cut short by a big yawn. “Oh my, as you can see, I’m beyond tired, so sex is out of the question.”

Her silliness eased his tension, but did little to stop the heat warming his cheeks. She sat with his pajama top pooled around her waist, her arms folded modestly across her pink lacy bra. The firelight played up her creamy skin, making it appear deliciously…edible.

He swallowed, hard, wishing she hadn’t said the word sex, even in jest.

“Let me wash your back and neck first.”

Jack welcomed the reprieve to rein in his wayward libido. He kneeled on the couch behind her, lathered the face cloth and brought it up to make circular moves up and down her back. He rinsed out the cloth with shaky hands, and then parted her hair to expose her neck, holding the warm cloth over the caked on blood for a second before gently washing it away. Her body shivered under his touch.