Sniper Fire (Love in the Crosshairs) (17 page)

“No problem.” The girl turned to Farrah. “You can use this first if you like, before I use it on floor. It’s clean and I wet it with hot water. Those napkins won’t get the sticky off.”

Farrah took the slightly steaming towel Tally offered her. “Thank you.” She wiped the spilled soda off her skin and quickly handed the towel back. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Not your fault, sweetie. Spills happen around here all the time.”

As soon as Tally left, Farrah faced him head on. “You need to come in so I can do a full exam on your leg. I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning. You shouldn’t be driving.”

Kyle bit back a growl. The woman was relentless. “I can drive just fine.” He’d proved it this morning by driving the piece-of-shit truck down to the rental agency in Asheville. So what if the almost two-hour trip had triggered a round of muscle cramps that left him sweaty and shaking. He’d ground his teeth the whole ride back to Clear Springs with Seth Borden, and spent the rest of the afternoon sipping just enough beer to dull the pain.

“No, you can’t. Especially when you’ve obviously been drinking.”

He slammed his bottle on the table. “Don’t start preaching that crap. You know I don’t drink and drive.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded, “but you’re still driving with your reflexes impaired. It’s dangerous and irresponsible. I can’t believe you made the trip all the way down from DC by yourself. What were you thinking, Kyle?”

Now that was an opening he couldn’t resist. He sat forward. “I could ask you the same thing,” he drawled. “Tell me, what’s the thinking behind your own irresponsible behavior? Is it drugs, or did you develop more than just lock-picking skills the last few years?”

She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your death wish.”

“My…? Are you crazy?”

“No, but apparently you are.”

She sucked in a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. “I swear, Kyle Fagan, if you don’t start making sense—”

“You’ll what?” Kyle ground out, trying to keep a cap on his volume and rising temper, both. “What’ll you do for an encore, Farrah? What could possibly top flinging your naked body at a desperate criminal supposedly armed with a gun? Huh? Tell me, ’cause I’d damn sure like to know.”

Even in the dim light, he saw her cheeks darken as she realized what he was referring to. That didn’t mean she was cowed. Oh, no, not her. Up came her adorable chin and back went her shoulders. “I wasn’t completely naked. I had a towel wrapped around me. Besides, my plan worked, didn’t it? You ended up in the pool as I remember.”

He nodded once, letting the sarcasm flow freely. “Oh, right, you had a towel. That made it soooo much better.” He couldn’t keep from reaching across the table and wrapping a hand around one of her fragile wrists. Everything about her was fragile, breakable, a fact she seemed determined to ignore. “Come on, Farrah, you’re smarter than this. You have to see how dangerous and stupid that stunt was. It worked on me, but it might not have worked on this Craddoc guy. What if he’d knocked you down instead? What then?”

He felt her body tremble. The blush on her cheeks faded in a rush. “That’s right, honey, think about the ‘what ifs’.” He wasn’t above using fear as a deterrent if it kept her from taking foolish risks in the future.

She held his gaze a long moment before slowly tilting her head forward, then back. “You’re right. It was dangerous. I’ll admit that. But it was the only thing I could think of at the time. The door was stuck. I had no way to keep him…you out of the house. What else was I supposed to do?”

He rubbed his thumb over her pulse, wanting to soothe her now that she’d agreed with him. “Hell, honey, there are always alternatives. You just have to avoid panicking and evaluate the situation from every angle. If Joshua and I’ve learned anything, it’s once you look at a problem in the right light, a solutions is bound to present itself.”

Her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. She nodded again. “I agree. That’s a very good philosophy. That’s exactly why I want you to come in so I can examine your leg.”

“God…” Kyle snapped his mouth closed as he released her and leaned back. He ran a hand over his face, counting to ten in his head. Surprisingly, Farrah remained quiet, not breaking the silence between them. Not even when he snagged his bottle off the table and took a good long swig of beer.

Feeling as if he had himself under control, Kyle met her gaze. “You examined my leg yesterday. You don’t need to see it again.”

Farrah’s unladylike snort made him want to smile despite his irritation. “Please,” she said, exasperation mixing with an excitement he could almost see building around her, “that was a cursory exam at the most. I want blood work. I want new x-rays and an MRI so I know what’s going on beneath your stubborn epidermis. I want to see the current condition of that poor excuse of a joint you call a knee. I want proof your grafts aren’t going septic.” She leaned her arms on the table, her expression dead serious. “I’ve read your file, Kyle. Joshua sent it to me. I’ve also read the background on those two doctors your commander wants you to see. It’s early yet, and I want to do some tests of my own to be sure, but I think there’s a chance—”

“A chance for what, Farrah?” Kyle asked, his strained patience snapping like a dry twig. “To walk like I used to? To get my life back?” He matched her snort with one of his own. “Don’t kid yourself, honey, we both know that’s not happening. Not now, not ever.”

He leaned back hard against the booth’s cushion and finished off his beer in a gulp, struggling to get his temper under control. If anyone else tried nagging him like this, he’d already be out the door, daring them to follow.

It’s not her fault, he repeated over and over in his head. The shitty turn his life had taken was no fault of Farrah’s no matter how much she might think so. His decisions, his mistakes, his responsibility. He’d already accepted that. If she’d just leave him alone…

He set the empty beer bottle down carefully and gusted out a sigh. Reaching over, he covered her hand with his. “Look, Farrah, I’m through with getting poked and prodded, hear me? You might as well give up trying to get me to change my mind.”

For a moment, she just stared at him without moving. Then she clamped her lips together and slipped out of the booth. She stared down at him, her expression harder than any he’d seen on her before.

“Does Joshua know you’ve given up?”

Shit! He kept his mouth shut and grabbed the empty bottle on the table, fighting the urge to fling it across the room. “Call it whatever you like.”

“Huh,” she said, tipping her head to one side. “I never took you for a coward.”

Kyle snapped his head up, stunned by the insult—especially coming from her. She was already walking away. He narrowed his eyes on her retreating form.

Oh, no, sweetheart, you do not get to say something like that and just walk away.

He was out of his seat and after her in the next heartbeat, not even sure how he managed to clear the booth without tripping. Farrah didn’t run, but she was damn quick. He caught up to her outside, almost to her vehicle. He clapped his hand on her shoulder, intending to swing her around to face him. At his first touch, however, she dropped her shoulder and spun away.

“Stop it!” she said sharply. “I’ve been manhandled quite enough tonight, thank you.”

Kyle raised his free hand, palm open, trying not to make it obvious how hard he leaned on his cane with the other one. She was right. Grabbing her like that made him no better than Chet. At least she stood still instead of diving into her SUV and driving off.

The sun wasn’t quite down yet, the last rays catching her face at just the right angle. Kyle frowned. Her lashes were wet and there was a lingering dampness on her cheeks.

“You’re crying. Why the hell are you crying?”

She stabbed a finger at him. “Because of you, you idiot!” She swiped away another pair of tears before throwing her hands in the air. “Here I am trying to help you, and it’s like you don’t care about your own life. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen you give up without a fight. Why in the world, when the stakes are so high, would you decide to give up now?”

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the frustration leak out of every pore along with his sweat. “Farrah…I’m not giving up. I just…I’m trying to be realistic here.”

He sucked in a deep breath and looked away. The silence stretched between them, broken only by Farrah’s quiet sniffles. It took all his strength to meet her wounded gaze again.

“Look, I understand you want to make things better. I appreciate it. I really do. But you have to accept there are some things you can’t fix. Trying to force the issue won’t accomplish a damn thing. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’m still—”

“I was there, remember? I’m a doctor, I know—”

Her words cut off as he moved into her personal space, forcing her to step back until she bumped against the fender of her car. He didn’t stop until their bodies almost touched. Deliberately, he reached down and pressed a hand against her thigh, applying just a hint of pressure. The material of her gray dress pants kept him from touching skin, but the heat of her still seared him. He held her watery gaze as he slowly leaned to the side, moving his hand down, sliding his palm over her knee, then trailing searching fingers back up, up and around, until he stopped just shy of cupping her deliciously firm ass. Her heavy breathing matched his, their breaths mingling in the hot, August air.

“I don’t feel a brace on your leg, Dr. Hastings,” he said softly. “I don’t feel any twisted muscles or hard scars. So how can you stand here and say you know what I’m going through? You can’t.”

Farrah drew in a deeper breath, the simple action causing her breasts to brush against his chest. Part of Kyle ordered him to step back, break the sweet contact. Another part of him begged to move closer, to press his whole body against hers the way she had earlier in the bar. The feel of her then had been a torture sweet enough to distract him from wiping the floor with Chet’s face.

“Yes, you’ve been through a lot,” Farrah said, her hands coming up to act as a barrier between them. “I get that. I even understand I have no personal experience to compare it to.” Fingers curled, fisting the material of his shirt. “But, Kyle, I’ve seen people who have. People who’ve suffered traumatic injuries. People who have lost more than you. A lot more. And I’ve seen these people fight back. I’ve seen them grasp at every opportunity to better their situation. I’ve seen them beg for the help you’re turning your back on.”

Her voice had risen to almost a shout. She paused, glanced around quickly, and then met his gaze again.

“How can you just give up?” she asked, her tone soft and fierce. “Please, if nothing else, help me understand your reasoning behind that asinine decision.”

Kyle couldn’t speak. It wasn’t so much her words as the pure desperation in them that silenced him. She was hurting, and he’d just gotten through promising himself he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Farrah…” Kyle bent his head, unable to stop himself. All he wanted was to take away the pain. To kiss her until she didn’t hurt anymore.

His lips brushed hers. He felt her shudder, but, thank God in heaven, she didn’t pull away. He brushed her lips again with his, firming the touch. Her lips were soft as a snow flake, but warm, oh, so very warm. Fingers, strong and capable, flexed against his chest. He started to pull back, only to catch her needy whimper. Her body shifted against his, pressing closer in the most delicious way.

Oh, hell yes.

Putting both arms around her, Kyle pulled her closer. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue across her sweet lips. Her mouth opened on a little moan. He entered her gently, licking, tasting, sampling the flavor that was uniquely her. Sweet, sweet Farrah Hastings. His fantasy come to full and erotic life.

A car rolled by, horn honking, the occupants shouting and whistling. Like a pond in winter, Farrah froze. The hands on his chest flattened, pushed.

Kyle had to make himself let her go. She was right. The street was no place for this. They’d go to his place. No, hers. It was closer.

When he met her gaze, however, he knew there’d be no sweet climax in their future. Her beautiful eyes were stricken, shocked to the core, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

“I can’t…I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now.”

She eased away from him, each step feeling like a thousand bullets to his chest. Kyle stood completely still and let her go, let her get in her car and drive away. Only when he lost sight of her vehicle’s tail lights did he carefully bend down and pick up his walking stick. He’d dropped the damn thing when he’d put his arms around Farrah, reaching for the impossible, the unattainable. The forbidden.

Chet was right. What woman in her right mind would ever choose a cripple like him?

Chapter Ten

Bad news really did come in threes, Farrah decided, watching the ambulance drive away with the injured firefighter she’d stabilized.

First came the forest fire, sparked by lightning from the dry thunderstorm the previous night.

Farrah shielded her eyes and looked to the southwest. The dark stain just above the green peaks seemed bigger than it was this morning. She didn’t know if that was just a case of the wind spreading the smudge of smoke across the sky, or if the inferno was spreading. So far, the firefighters had been able to limit the flames to an uninhabited area two valleys over. That didn’t mean it would stay there. Fires were unpredictable, and not easily tamed. Hopefully, they’d have the thing under control soon, preferably, without any more casualties.

The second bad news came about mid-morning. According to the sheriff’s deputy who’d stopped by, Russell Craddoc had evidently found himself some transportation. He’d broken into a house on the west ridge sometime late yesterday. Luckily, it was a vacation home, and the owners were hundreds of miles away. Craddoc had made a mess of the house and stolen a car housed in the attached garage. If not for the caretaker’s weekly drive by, no one would know he was mobile. The only bright spot was the fact the gas tank was almost on empty.