01 Untouchable - Untouchable (14 page)

“
What?” I asked as I
surmised his injuries. He had several bruised places on his face
and his lips were swollen, those scarred knuckles of his were
bloody and ripped open, but it was how he was looking at me that
had me worried. “What?” I repeated.

“
You were in the
fight?”

It evidently hadn’t
occurred to him that while he was trying to do the incredible hulk
with three guys on his back that I had gotten involved.

“
Well, yeah—those women
jumped Kevin and I had to do something,” I sounded as if I was
defending my actions, but I didn’t think it should be
necessary.

He closed his eyes for a
moment, “How’d you do?” he finally asked.

“
I knocked one out and Kevin
knocked out the other.”

“
Kevin?” he questioned,
reopening his eyes and looking at me as if I wasn’t
serious.

“
Yeah, he jumped on her back
and got her in the sleeper hold.”

A big grin spread across
his face, I could tell he was visualizing it. But then he frowned
and looked serious again. “What were you doing near the
men?”

“
I thought—I mean, you
had—there were three guys on you! I couldn’t just stay
back…”

“
You should have,” he
snapped, his eyes suddenly livid and very alert. “People like that
don’t play around. You could have been hurt.” He paused and
suddenly looked very pained. “Or killed.”

“
You could have been hurt
or killed,” I rebutted. “What was I supposed to do? Let that
happen?”

He looked at me very succinctly, “That
would have been better.”

I could feel my eyelids
peel back as I looked at him and shook my head. “Evan Lewis, that
was stupid! If you haven’t noticed, I have reasons why I couldn’t
let that happen.”

“
There are reasons why you
should,” he whispered and looked away.

“
Well, I didn’t have to
fight one of the guys,” I continued, ignoring his idiotic
statement.

He turned back, his face filled with
some emotion I couldn’t describe, “But you would have, wouldn’t
you?”

My own emotions were
knotted up about throat level, ready any second to overflow.
“I—I
really
like
you, Evan, more than anyone I’ve ever met. I couldn’t stand by and
watch you take on three guys.”

His face was turning pale
and a moment of agony filled his eyes. “We’ve got to go,” he
whispered hoarsely.

I looked at the rest of the
group and it was obvious that everyone had decided it was time to
head home. I said my good-byes, but at Evan’s urging, I waited
until the last of the vehicles got on the bridge and started
driving away.

“
I need you to drive me to
my house, Leese.”

I cringed inwardly, going
to his house at one in the morning, alone just the two of us was
way up there on my list of ‘not-good-ideas.’ “I don’t think
that’s…”

“
That’s fine then—let’s get
you home…” His face was becoming whiter.

His right arm move
slightly, and that’s when I saw the fresh red blood.

“
Oh my god, Evan! You’re
bleeding!” I grabbed at his black tee-shirt, seeing the slice in
the fabric. The material was wet and when I turned my hand over it
was stained with blood. “I’ve got to get you to a hospital,” I said
grabbing the shifter.

“
Leese,” he responded
firmly, holding my hand in an iron grip. “I’m not going to a
hospital.”

“
Oh, yes you…”

“
Annalisa
,” he stressed, not allowing
me to engage the car. “Take me to my house and I’ll see how bad it
is.”

“
It’s bad enough. You’re
bleeding all over the place.”

“
I don’t
think it’s too deep. My lungs are fine,” he said, assessing his
wounds. “Please,” he finally crooned. “I
need
to go home.”

“
Okay,” I agreed, “But if
it’s bad, you’re going to either let me take you to the hospital or
call an ambulance.”

I could tell by the look he
was giving me that there was no way he was going to the hospital,
so when he agreed, I knew he was lying.

“
Turn left. My house is on
the island.”

I pulled into a drive that
led down to a house on the beach. It was a single story
Mediterranean-style home. He pulled out a clicker from the glove
box and the garage opened and the light came on. It was a
triple-car garage, but was completely devoid of anything inside. I
drove in cautiously, but I couldn’t control my pulse when he hit
the button for the door to close behind us. At that moment, I was
scared—truly scared. It wasn’t the wound on his side that had me
frightened, but somehow I had the feeling this is what he had been
working toward all along. He and I were utterly and completely
alone together.

My hands were shaking as I
turned off the key and went around the car to help him out. He
already had the door open and I could see the pained expression on
his face as he tried to stand. “Come on,” I whispered, slipping
myself underneath his arm. He winced, but then I felt his weight as
he leaned on me for help.

He unlocked the door to the
house, and we stepped into the dark interior.

“
Light switch—your side,”
he croaked.

I felt the wall until I
touched the panel and the lights came on. The house was large and
beautiful. We were walking into the area by the kitchen, and beyond
that it opened into a great room. I could see a pool just outside
the sliding doors. He put his keys on the granite counter top and
was guiding me toward the hallway. Another light switch and I could
see we were entering the master bedroom. I had this urge to slip
out from under his arm and run, but I couldn’t do that to him. As
much as I felt the need for self-preservation at that moment, I
knew he needed me.

Through the bedroom and
into the master bath and I found the light switch. As we were
bathed in florescent lights, I looked up into the face staring back
at me in the mirror—it was of someone who was terrified.

He let loose of my shoulder
and grabbed a large black shaving case on the counter, unzipped it,
and spilt the contents onto the vanity. It wasn’t what I expected
to see. There were hypodermics, small vials, needles and stitching
thread, a scalpel, scissors, alcohol and betadine pads, gauze wrap,
pads and tape.

“
Jeez,” I uttered without
thinking. “Does this happen often to you?”

He gave a bitter laugh and
looked at me in the mirror. “Go wait in the living
room.”

“
No, I can help…”

“
Absolutely not,” he
snapped, but then winced again in pain. I could tell he didn’t want
to take his right arm away from his side.

“
Evan, you’ve got to let me
help. You can barely stand up,” I said, gently pushing him to sit
on the edge of the tub. He tried to resist but realized it would be
easier if he sat down.

I started to grasp his
shirt, but he stoutly refused. “Leave!” He growled out the words so
deeply that it sounded more like an animal than a human.

I went down to my knees in
front of him, grabbing the scissors as I did. “That tee-shirt is
going to have to be cut off,” I whispered.

His hand gripped mine,
stopping me from what I was intent on doing. “I can’t let you do
this,” he replied, softer this time with less growl.

I looked at him for at
least two or three seconds, just staring into that handsome face so
filled with pain, anger and what appeared to be out-right fright.
There was something he didn’t want me to see, and I had a feeling
it wasn’t the cut on his side.

“
Evan,” I said in a
whisper, “You’re gonna pass out in about two minutes if you try to
do this yourself—then I’m just going to come right back in here and
do it anyway. So you can either be conscious and let me help, or
you can be out and let me help. It’s your choice.”

He swallowed hard and
released my hand. I pondered for a moment the best way to cut the
shirt and then I realized I had to cut from the neckline out to the
end of each sleeve to get it to drop and then once right up the
center and he’d be out of it. My hand worked quickly to cut through
the fabric, and within a matter of moments I was peeling it
carefully from around his waist. I gave a gasp as the shirt hit the
floor.

The slice was about six
inches long and appeared deepest toward the front. It wasn’t the
gash that took my breath away, and neither was it the fact that his
chest, abs and arms were so beautiful that I could have cried, but
it was the other marks on his body that held me nearly frozen. He
had a second gunshot scar along his left side, numerous scars that
looked similar to the one he’d just obtained, and then I saw the
tattoo. I must have looked like a wide-eyed child as my gaze met
his. My fingers came up without thought as I reached out and
touched the image of a chain and lock piercing across his heart
with the word ‘Untouchable’ inscribed above it.

His hand met my fingers and
held them there against his chest as he tried to say something that
wouldn’t come out. Then he raised my hand to his mouth, closed his
eyes and kissed my finger tips.

Had it been any other
situation, I think I would have been locked in the trance as he
held my hand to his mouth. But no matter what questions, and worse,
no matter what answers I got out of him tonight, I had to help
him.

I pulled away gently and
dampened a washcloth. He didn’t say anything as I cleaned his side,
wiping away the blood. Then I grabbed the betadine swabs and washed
the edges of the wound. “I—I can’t do stitches,” I remarked softly.
The slice had quit bleeding and seemed to be trying to congeal. He
stood slowly and looked in the mirror.

“
We’ll use the glue,” he
stated pointing to one of the small tubes on the counter. “Then
we’ll bandage and tape it. Just do it exactly the way I tell you.
And, Leese,” he said, causing me to look up at him. “Don’t glue
yourself to me.” And then he smiled and sat back down. It was the
first hint of humor I’d heard in a while.

“
Yeah, I can see where that
could get awkward.” It felt good to finally smile.

He explained how to match
the edges of the wound and hold them carefully together as the glue
was applied. It was amazing to see how quickly the glue held. It
only took about two minutes for me to seal the cut. He then had me
wipe it off again with antibacterial, place a thin strip of gauze
over the slice and then he tore off and handed me three inch strips
of tape to place vertically along the cut as he explained that the
glue wasn’t really meant for such deep wounds, but it would work as
long as the tape was able to keep the skin from stretching. Then it
was a larger amount of gauze and then the wider tape around the
perimeter to finish the job.

He stood up, still wincing
a little in discomfort, but his face looked like it had more color
than when I began. I started picking up all the medical supplies
and placing them back into the bag.

“
You don’t have to do that,”
he whispered warmly against my hair.

I was facing the sink as he
stood beside me close enough to feel the heat coming from his bare
chest. I looked into the mirror and realized that I was standing
next to a man—there was no boy in him. His sleek arms reached out
and wrapped around me, his mouth sought my neck as he began to kiss
and caress my throat and shoulders.

“
Stay with me tonight,
Leese,” came words so hot and determined they felt as if they had
the power to actually take hold of me.

I couldn’t think, though I
know there were words tumbling around inside my head. By this point
he turned me to face him as he pulled me hard against himself. His
mouth moving toward mine, his fingers twining like lace at the
sides of my waist and the only thing I could hear was the slamming
of my heart against my chest.

“
N—n—no…” I was struggling
to pull away, but his grip increased. “Stop it, Evan! I’ve got to
go home.”

The more I resisted, the
stronger he became. His right hand came up to the base of my throat
and was beginning to tighten. I wasn’t able to take in a breath. I
knew how to stop him, but I didn’t want to do it; just one hit to
the bandage on his right side and I’d be free. And then it
happened. As I tried to free myself, my body went totally limp and
he had to struggle to keep me from hitting the floor. My eyes
fluttered. I could see the pain on his face as he tried to lower me
slowly. There was a blackness that was blocking my sight and then
nothing.

When I came to, he was
seated on the floor beside me, holding me. “Leese? Leese? Snap out
of it. Are you okay?”

I blinked a few times, not really sure
where I was.

“
Leese, say something,” he
pleaded.

“
I want to go home,” I
mumbled.

He took a deep breath and
then moved the hair away from my face. “You scared the crap out of
me.”

“
What happened?” I asked,
the fright of what occurred before everything went black
returned.