The Omega Team: Spurs (Kindle Worlds Novella) (3 page)

“Got it” Carson wrapped it again and went to the steel toolbox in the back of the second ATV. “I wish I had a more secure lockup, but this is it for now.” He swung up into the driver’s seat, and Andrew hopped in the other side. “We’re going up to look around and see if we can find any more evidence.”

“I take it you’re staying even if it’s not to help us with cattle rustlers?” Ryder said through waves of more pain than he’d felt since right after his injury. They’d laid out more than they could really afford to hire them, thinking it a good investment in keeping their herd safe. “Won’t your bosses want to renegotiate your fee or something?”

“Just get that wound looked at and we’ll be back down to figure out the rest in a few hours, okay?”

Isbet climbed into the seat next to Ryder and pulled the little vehicle off to the side to let the other men pass. “We’re out of here. Be careful.” Once the others disappeared into the distance, she made a Y-turn and headed downhill. “Let’s get you to a doctor.”

“After.” He shouldn’t delay, but he wanted to wait and hear what the Omega Team cousin had to say about the evidence. He’d been in a lot of pain and feared he’d missed something important. How it could change the inevitable, he had no idea.

Isbet ran out of breath arguing by the time they arrived in front of the house. Sarge, in his cook’s whites, waited on the porch and stomped down to help her assist Ryder up the steps and then, at his insistence, into his room on the second floor.

“Why won’t you let me call a doctor?”

“Later.” He sat on the edge of the straight chair and panted. “After we see what Carson and Andrew find out.”

“You are the stubbornest man alive,” she raged.

Sarge glanced from one to the other and retreated, closing the door behind him. The grizzled man had probably seen enough firefights to be ready to avoid them in his “retirement.” As his steps clomped away down the hall, Isbet crossed her arms over her chest and blew out a breath.

“I’m not going to allow you to bleed to death while you wait for information,” she said. “Let’s get those pants off you.”

“Why, darlin’, this is all going so fast.” His smile resembled a grimace, and she ached for how much he must be hurting.

“I’ll help you. Can you stand up for just a minute?”

He pushed himself to his feet with one hand on the back of the chair, white knuckles indicating how painful it was. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He was anything but fine. But she’d rather help with the problem than make a point of it. “Rest your hands on my shoulders while I unbutton your jeans.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just using this as an excuse to get me out of my Wranglers?” He obeyed, though, and she was startled at how much he did lean on her. Moving as quickly as she could, she slipped each button out of the hole and worked them off his hips. “Hang on.” He sucked in a big breath and let it out. “Okay, now.”

Trying not to hurt him any more than necessary, she held the waistband away and, dropping to one knee, eased the denim past his wound. It seeped blood and clear fluid, and Isbet couldn’t believe he still stood.

She also couldn’t believe he could be “happy to see her,” while in such pain.

“Commando, huh?” She breathed in the scent of his arousal which bobbed inches from her face. “You could have warned a girl.”

“Surprise!”

“Sit down. On the bed so I can get a good look at your injury.” Ignoring her first instinct in favor of her better ones, she kept her hands and lips away from the straightest, hardest, smoothest penis she’d seen and rose to her feet to help him sit on the mattress. “I don’t know what to do with you.” Every inch she revealed of him stood in such sharp, healthy contrast to the red-edged raw flesh on his left thigh, and her anger grew.

“I could make some suggestions.”

“Just shut up. If you want to fuck me, you’ll have to get a handle on this injury first because I am not going to be responsible for finishing killing you.” Harsh words, but, damn, he was fine, and she’d jump on him if he wasn’t bleeding.

“Are you saying you want me to fuck you?” He lay back on his elbows and extended his right leg. “Because that could be arranged. But I’d rather take my time and make love to you.”

She glanced up, clutching the heel of his boot. “You don’t seem like the romantic type to me.” Bracing herself, she yanked and fell back on her bottom. “Are you?”

He held out his other leg, and she managed to get the boot off without a huge jerk this time, but he still sucked in air through his teeth. “Whew.” Finally, she got his jeans the rest of the way off. “Not usually, but then I’m not usually this vulnerable to a woman.”

She touched the skin of his upper thigh. “It’s hot. We have to get a doctor in here, Ryder. I’m afraid the infection will spread and you’ll lose the leg.”

The concept should frighten him, but he shrugged it off. “A medical report of any kind with my name on it showing this injury has failed to respond to treatment will end my career. Just hang on until I can brainstorm with the guys when they get back. I just want to buy a little time.”

Everything in her said this was wrong. She couldn’t be responsible for him coming to harm. But his plea, his gray eyes, lines of pain tightening his full lips…. “No longer than the morning. I’m not kidding.”

“Deal. If we can’t come up with a better solution, I’m in your hands, you and the sawbones.”

“Okay.”

“Ryder?” The deep voice was accompanied by a rap on the door. “You decent?”

“No. Just a second.” He glanced up. “That’s Sarge. Look, give me a pair of boxers out of the dresser. Top drawer. I don’t think he wants to see me naked.”

She helped him pull them on, a little relieved not to have his erection waving at her when she planned not to take advantage of it. Once he was settled on the bed, she opened the door to find the older man bearing a basin of steaming water and a bucket of first aid supplies. Without a word, he set everything down on the dresser and moved the straight chair beside the bed.

Ryder smiled at her over the man’s massive shoulder. “Sarge was a field medic for a while before he discovered his true calling as a cook.”

“Dang, son, this is a mess.” Sarge dipped a towel in the hot water and cleaned around the edges of the open sore. “This is gonna hurt, but you can take it.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I can. But I don’t want Isbet to watch in case I cry like a baby.”

“But I don’t want to leave, I—” She took a step back.

He bit his lip so hard a droplet of blood appeared. “Go, okay? Bring me some iced tea? I’m pretty thirsty.”

She had no fear of physical danger, but someone she cared about in pain could really do a number on her and she’d never wanted to escape more. She wouldn’t stay gone, just needed a moment to gather herself, so she fled to the kitchen. Her hands shook as she poured a glass of sweet tea and added three ice cubes. She didn’t need a shrink to know where her reaction came from. Her mother’s lengthy, excruciating death from bone cancer haunted her. But Ryder had no cancer and he was not dying He had a bad wound, he’d overdone it…and he’d be fine. Maybe if she repeated it a hundred times more, she’d believe it.

By the time she returned with the tea, and one for her, he lay with a sheet pulled up to his hips, no shirt on, and pillows fluffed behind his back.

“I gave him some painkillers, and he’ll be okay for a while.” Sarge patted her on the back as he passed with his supplies. “It’s getting on toward supper, and I need to get everything dished up for the guests. I’ll send one of the boys up with a tray for Ryder and you.”

“Thanks, Sarge. That’ll be great.” She handed Ryder the glass, and he took a sip and grunted.

“Sweet tea?”

“You need the sugar,” she said with great authority. At least, her mother would have said so.

Sarge closed the door behind him, and she stood by the window for a few minutes, looking out. “I wonder when the guys will be back.” She let the curtain drop and turned around. “Should we get one of those radios you mentioned and—” Slapping a hand over her mouth, she tiptoed over to the bed. His lashes lay in half-moons on his cheeks, his jaw slack in sleep. Sarge’s treatments must have given him some relief.
Thank heavens.

Isbet sat on the straight chair, but, after only a few minutes, she yawned. Then yawned again. His big bed looked so fluffy and comfortable and maybe she could curl up on the other side for just a few minutes and close her eyes, take a catnap on top of the covers to be more alert later. She’d be close by in case Ryder needed her. She’d just take off her boots so she didn’t mess up his beautiful antique quilts.

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” drawled Andrew’s voice, and Ryder’s eyes shot open. He tightened his arm around Isbet and glared up at his brother and his cousin who wore matching smirks. Another family trait, apparently. The warm air of afternoon had been replaced with a cool breeze blowing the light curtains at the windows, but he wanted a shower after the hiking and excitement of earlier. He’d have to wrap his leg again, but he’d gotten used to the process.

“And we were so worried about them while we were gone.” Carson shook his head.

Ryder shifted and regretted it. “Ouch.” His exclamation roused Isbet who tried to jerk away, but he pulled her closer. “It’s okay, just my jerky relations come to spy on us.”

“You’re hurting my feelings,” Andrew said. “Here we come, worried half to death about you, and you accuse us of spying.”

Carson crossed his arms over his chest. “And calling us jerky. If you weren’t such a great guy, Andrew, I’d think I might have been better without relations.”

“Are you about done?” If he hadn’t had a leg which might break right open again and an armful of warm woman, he’d have leapt up and punched them for their lame teasing. “Isbet,” he murmured against her ear, “we’ve got company.” He’d deal with them later, once they’d resolved the more serious problems

She was on her feet in an instant, the wicked knife unsheathed and ready for action. Nobody laughed now. Although Ryder, once he recovered his breath, wore a smirk of his own.

“Don’t kill my relations, honey.”

She glared at him but lowered her arm. “I wasn’t going to. I was just startled.”

Andrew took a step back, but Carson held his ground. “Who do you work for?”

Her lips formed a stubborn line. “I’m self-employed.”

“Doing what?”

When she failed to answer, Ryder sat up and moved his legs over the edge of the mattress. Easing to his feet, he tested his wounded leg and it hurt less than he’d expected. “Okay, give me a minute to get dressed. Maybe ten minutes. And I’ll meet you all downstairs in Dad’s office where we can have privacy.”

She dropped her arm with the knife to her side. “I’ll help you get ready, Ryder.”

“I don’t need help.” He took a few tentative steps across the room, and the ache reminded him how he’d overdone earlier. As the only known survivor of the Vibora, complete recovery had remained out of reach so far.

Andrew nodded. “I’ll help you, then.” His brother knew he hated anyone seeing the wound.

Crap.
“No, Isbet helped me undress; I have nothing to hide from her. And if it will speed things up, she can help.”

Andrew shrugged. “Okay, but we’ll be back up here in fifteen minutes if you aren’t downstairs. We have a lot to discuss, including why you, Isbet, were sleeping with my brother with a fine antique gambler’s dagger in your sock.”

“Whatever. You should see what’s still in my boot.” She marched to the door and held it open. “Get out.”

“I should take that knife with me. What if you decide to use it on my brother?”

She snorted. “I’ve been here for weeks, and I just spent hours sleeping with your brother.”

“After rescuing me.” Ryder paused at her side, one hand on her shoulder for balance and the pleasure of touching her. “She could have done us all in by now if she chose. But I still want answers, as well. We’ll be right down.” Closing the door in their doubtful faces, he used his hold on her to turn her toward him and bent close to speak low in her ear. “You don’t plan to kill me, right?”

Isbet linked her arms behind his waist, tilting her head back. “No, not right now.”

“And the gun is in your boot?”

“Yes.” It had been in his waistband when he got in the Mule…when had she taken it back?

He searched her face. “Good enough for me.” He kissed her. For a tough woman with a questionable background, she kissed like a movie star. Or a burlesque queen. Or a prom date. He’d never considered himself fanciful, but everything about Isbet softened the hard edges and made him feel like a teenager. With a randy disposition. His cock hardened against her belly, and he fisted a handful of curls and took the kiss deeper, parting her lips with his tongue and tasting her mouth. Her tongue joined his, twisting in erotic dance that drove everything from his head but getting her under him on the bed and making love to her all night long.

She leaned into him as he left her mouth and dropped kisses down her cheek and the side of her throat, sweet and salty with the perspiration from their hike, but the hottest thing he’d had his mouth on for a long time, maybe ever. She sighed and stepped back.

“We need to get downstairs before they come up after us.”

He released her, with regret. “You’re right. Can you grab me a pair of jeans from the closet and a shirt from the third drawer of the dresser? I don’t care which one.”

“Sure.” She opened the closet door then glanced back at him. “You want jeans on that leg?”

“I’m okay. The bandage will protect it. I always wear jeans on the ranch.”

She looked like she might protest then grabbed a pair of indigo Wranglers from a hanger. “It’s your leg.”

“So far.” Although he’d begun to worry about whether he’d still have one if it didn’t start to heal better. “Thank you for helping me.”

“My pleasure. I would do the same for any man injured in service to his country.” Isbet handed him a forest-green T-shirt.

He pulled the shirt over his head then leaned on her while he stepped into the jeans. “I am going to take a shower after our little meeting.”

Isbet remained within reach so he could use her for balance when he needed to but she managed not to hover in the process. She pulled her shirt away from her skin. “I’m still kind of beat, but I need a shower, too.”