Playing Doctor (Bandit Creek Books) (4 page)

Smitty leaned against the wall. He scanned her body with slow deliberateness that made her feel like she was naked. “You look better.”

“Nothing like a hot shower to make a person feel more human.” She walked around him and into her bedroom. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“I’m thinking about braving your kitchen. Want some coffee?”

“Tea?”

“Can do.” He pushed away from the wall and trotted down the stairs.

She found something loose and comfortable to put on, pyjama pants and an old t-shirt, and trundled downstairs.

Smitty was in the kitchen, his head stuck in the fridge. “Hungry? How about an omelette?”

“That sounds so good right now.” She sat at the table and watched him pull out eggs, butter and some vegetables. “The omelette pan is under the stove.” Something occurred to her. “Wait, didn’t you say you weren’t here to make omelettes?”

“Hey, a guy can change his mind can’t he?”

“Not most of the time, but since you have three older sisters, I’ll let it pass without further comment.”

He pulled the pan out, threw in some butter then opened cupboards until he found a bowl. “So,” he said casually. “Let’s review. You got shot at today.”

“You say it like you’re sure it was deliberate.”

“All I know is a bullet just about ended you. You piss anyone off?”

“You know me as well as anyone. What do you think?”

He grunted. “Okay, who did you piss off lately?”

“The Sheriff is irritated with me, and the mayor. You know, about my little dynamite problem. A couple of oxycodone addicts got pretty angry I wouldn’t prescribe them their favorite drug. JD didn’t like my suggestion of going to detox. He told me to stick it where the sun don’t shine in the most creative way I’ve heard since I got home.” She shook her head. “But I can’t think of anyone who might have a reason to take a shot at me.”

Smitty didn’t say anything for a minute. He seemed to be concentrating on the omelette until he asked, “What about the military? Make any enemies there?”

“No one you don’t know about already.”

“Strange.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

He served up the omelette and she took a couple of bites.

“It’s got to be a mistake.”

“A bullet in the center of town is a hell of a mistake.”

She kept eating, the food settling a stomach she didn’t even realize was upset. “There’s no other reasonable explanation.”

He snorted. “When have human beings ever been reasonable?”

She considered his question. “I have no response to that.”

“Continuing our review, you’ve been home ten weeks and have been tossing dynamite into an innocent lake for what, two months?”

“Give or take a day. But, the lake isn’t innocent. The old town of Bandit Creek is at the bottom of it, as well as an awful lot of gold, if you believe the stories JD tells.”

“Right, the immortal drunk.”

“We’ve had this argument before.”

He leaned across the table, his gaze trapping hers. “Why are you trying to blow yourself up?”

She froze, swallowed then said, “I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything at this point. All I know is that if I throw a few sticks of dynamite out into the lake in the morning, I’m able to function the rest of the day. But if I don’t, well, I‘m pretty much a mess.”

“So, get some help or talk to a friend or one of your relatives.”

“No, there’s no way I’m saddling my friends or family with the nightmares haunting me waking and sleeping. As for professional help, I’ve considered it, but there’s no one local I feel safe enough with to talk about it.” She pushed her empty plate aside. “I guess that’s what happens when you stay in the same small town all your life.”

“You could try talking to me.”

“Have you talked to someone?”

“Yeah, I saw a military psychologist four or five times after I got home. It helped give me some perspective.”

She stared at the back of her right hand. There were four tiny cuts on it, reminders of how close she’d come to dying.

They weren’t the only scars on her hand.

“I need some time to think and my brain is getting fuzzy.”

“You’re coming down from the adrenaline high. Why don’t you have a nap?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” She got up and put her plate in the sink. When she turned around Smitty was standing right in front of her.

“Hug?”

“That is my new favorite word.”

He held out his arms and she took the half step it took to press herself against his big, warm body. His arms came around her and he pulled her in so her head was tucked up against his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on like she was drowning and he was the only stable thing left in the world.

She could have stood there in his embrace for hours, but pulled away after several seconds. The last thing she needed was to get too attached to having him around. He wasn’t staying for long, just until she stopped playing with explosives and proved she wasn’t going to harm herself or anyone else.

“Thanks.”

“Any time.” His voice was low and one corner of his mouth tilted upward. It hit her hard in the gut, knocking the lingering fear out of her diaphragm and replacing it with something far more dangerous. Need, deep and intense.

“I’m going to sleep now. There’s a bed in the spare room next door.”

“Thanks, I’ll grab my gear.”

She nodded and climbed the stairs.

Bedtime was the worst time of day. Darkness hid ugliness, worry and danger. The moment she closed her eyes she was back in Afghanistan, the smell of smoke and blood in her nostrils, the sound of fire, moans of the injured and the metallic scream of their helicopter dying in her ears.

Then came the gunfire, the ping of bullets hitting the debris around her and the gibberish of men speaking a language not her own. Coming closer, their weapons busy killing her team members, they laughed. That was the moment she broke, grabbed the weapon of the dead marine beside her and opened fire on the enemy.

Now, she shivered as fear gripped her throat, closing off her air, making the hair on her arms and neck stand on end.

She knew there weren’t any monsters under the bed.

She was the monster.

Chapter Five

S
he awoke with a start, shaking, sweating and choking on a scream.

Abby sat up in bed and panted desperately trying to catch her breath, to calm down before her heart burst out of her chest.

Her bedroom door opened and slammed against the wall. Smitty stood in the doorway, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, his gaze darting around the room.

“Doc, you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Just a nightmare.”

“Just a nightmare?” Both his eyebrows rose and he stared at her as if he’d never heard anything so crazy. “You have this nightmare often?”

“Every time I close my eyes.”

The tightness in her chest loosened a bit and she suddenly didn’t feel like she was drowning anymore. She took in a long, sweet breath of air.

“How long?”

“Since I got home.”

“Damn.” He came all the way into the room, closed the door and perched at the end of her bed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I did?” She examined the expression on his face. “Did I scream out loud?”

“Like you were being tortured.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t think I screamed in real life. I mean, I thought I only did it in my dream.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Tell me about it.”

His request startled a snort out of her. “No thanks. I’m not saddling you with my demons.”

“Abby, you know talking usually helps.”

“Yeah, my head knows it, but my gut doesn’t.”

He regarded her stoically for a few moments then said, “It’s the crash, isn’t it?”

When she didn’t answer he kept talking. “I dream about it too sometimes.”

Questions spilled out of her mouth unedited. “Do you dream about killing people? Do you dream about how good it feels to kill them?” The last word shattered as passed through her lips. A sob followed it. Then another, until her composure completely crumpled into a rush of crying and tears.

Smitty was suddenly there, wrapping his arms around her, hauling her across his lap and pulling her so close that every sob she took shook his body too. He mumbled nonsensical noises into her hair and rubbed her back while she soaked up his strength and serenity.

Finally, she quieted. A tissue was pressed into her hand and she blew her nose.

“Thanks,” she said, tossing it onto the floor.

“Litterbug.”

“It’s my floor, I can be messy if I want.”

He grunted and kissed her temple. “Feel better?”

“I feel like someone ran me over with a tank, but yeah, better.”

“Remind me to buy you a tank for Christmas.”

“Ha ha.”

They sat for another minute or two, not talking. Then Smitty said, “I dream about the crash too sometimes.”

“Do you kill people in your dreams?”

“Sometimes, but those aren’t the worst ones for me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah the ones that make me want to throw up are the ones where I find you in the wreckage, dead.”

She leaned away so she could see his face. It was as bleak as she was sure hers was. “Dead?”

“Yeah.” His arms squeezed her a little. “You have no idea how good it was to open your bedroom door a minute ago to see you alive and well.”

“Oh yeah, my eyes and nose are red and puffy. I look like I went through a carwash with my windows open.”

He laughed and tilted her chin up with one hand. “You are completely gorgeous. In fact,” he grinned. “I’d love to see you soaking wet.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he kissed her instead.

His lips were soft and tentative at first, as if he were asking for permission. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth to give him her answer.

He groaned and turned ravenous, his lips and tongue devouring her with a hunger that sparked her own. His muscles rippled under her hands and she wallowed in the strength of him, clutching him closer as she fought to pull him closer.

Frustrated, she shifted on his lap until she straddled him. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and moaned as the contact with her nipples burned its way through her.

Suddenly she was on her back with him lying between her legs.

“If you don’t want this,” he growled. “Tell me to get the fuck off now.”

“I want,” she replied licking her lips, hungry for his taste. “Oh, do I want.”

“Thank God,” he muttered as he took her lips again. He nipped and nibbled then soothed them with his tongue, over and over again, until she was wild.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “Take me.”

His answer was to nip and suck his way down her neck until he reached the edge of her tank top. He reared back and pushed his hand up and under it while she grabbed the edges and yanked it over her head. His hands went to her breasts, moulding them and plucking at the nipples. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“I’m not too big?” she asked, breathless and shaking.

He laughed. “You’re perfect.” Then he leaned down and took on nipple in his mouth, his tongue laving and tugging at it.

“Oh!” Shock held her immobile for a second then she twisted on the sheets as pleasure arrowed from her breast to the deep ache between her legs. She thrust her hips up at him, hoping to lessen the pressure, but that only made it worse.

“Easy, sweetheart.” The words rumbled from his chest like a purr from a big cat. He sent one hand down under her sleep pants and panties, pushing them over her hips and sweeping them off. Then his fingers found her labia, massaging before one finger entered her.

“Tease,” she accused. “I want something bigger than that.”

“I’m not finished exploring yet,” he told her as he found her clit and circled it slowly. “I want to find out how to make you scream with pleasure.”

“Well,” she panted. “I do like to drive a stick.”

He laughed again. “That’s one of the things I love about you, Abby, you have a naughty sense of humor.”

She wasn’t going to comment on his use of the word love. She wasn’t going to think about it at all. She palmed his erection through his boxers. “I really, really want to shift into high gear.”

He closed his eyes and shuddered, then slipped off the bed and shucked the last barrier between them. He climbed back on the bed and between her legs. He kissed his way up from her waist to her breasts and proceeded to drive her to the brink of insanity with his lips and tongue. He drove her past insane when he allowed his cock to glide over her labia and clit, but not enter her.

“You feel huge,” she whispered to him and she searched out his flat nipples to stroke and pinch. “Give it to me.”