Under Fire (12 page)
Zack curled his lip. “That’s gross. Not to mention unsanitary.”
“Goodness! Are you always so straitlaced? Live dangerously, fireboy. Unless you don’t have what it takes.”
His blue gaze snapped to hers. A slow smile curved his sensual mouth. “All right. Score one for you—this time. Just remember what they say about payback.”
“Ooh!” She gave a little shiver. “Promises, promises.”
Without warning, he leaned close. Reached out, brushing his knuckles down one cheek. She felt his heat blistering through the thin gown, and not due to fever. His scent, a mixture of soap and earthy male, teased her nose. Brought every female cell to rigid attention, puckering her nipples. Made her long to crawl inside him, learn what would cause him to lose control. Lose himself in
her
.
her
.
But those wondrous new feelings were nothing compared with his kiss.
Just a simple kiss. A brush of his lips against hers. A tentative exploration, silently asking permission. She slid a hand behind his neck in answer, playing with the thick hair at his nape. Loving the cool, silky black strands between her fingers.
Encouraged, Zack groaned, giving her a bit of tongue. The gentlest of touches. A hint of toothpaste and spicy man. The slight contact sizzled a fiery path straight to her womb. Gathered there in a delicious ball of swirling, crackling energy. Blazed to her clenching sex.
Wet. God, he’d dampened her panties with nothing more than a vanilla kiss. Needy for more. For
him
. Tony’s kiss couldn’t begin to compare with something so honest. Pure.
him
. Tony’s kiss couldn’t begin to compare with something so honest. Pure.
Zack’s arousal was like a separate, living entity calling to her. Demanding only one response. She wished they were anywhere but here, free to taste and touch at leisure. She wished—
Zack broke the kiss and tipped up her chin, running his thumb over her plump bottom lip. His lids were heavy, eyes dark with a reflection of her own thoughts.
“Be careful,” he murmured huskily. “A gorgeous woman who loves to live dangerously should know I’m a man who’s damned sick of being good. One day you might wish you’d let this sleeping dog lie.”
Momentarily rendered speechless, Cori could only stare as Zack pushed off the bed and walked stiffly into the small bathroom, sack in hand. An invitation and a warning in the same breath. How could any red-blooded female resist?
She couldn’t. A fact that became shockingly clear the instant Zack stepped, fully dressed, from the bathroom.
Sweet leaping Jesus. He’s . . . beautiful.
There was truly not a more perfect word to describe Zack. She’d never seen him in street clothes and—
Oh my
—he’d just redefined her opinion of exactly how a man should look.
Oh my
—he’d just redefined her opinion of exactly how a man should look.
At just over six feet, he was built like a runner: a man who kept in shape, but didn’t bulk up too much. His body was long, lean, and toned, roped with just the perfect amount of muscle, though she doubted she’d be able to span his biceps with both hands.
His chest stretched the confines of his dark blue T-shirt, a sculpted work of art. His stomach was so flat and hard, you could probably bounce a quarter off his abs. A trim waist, jeans hanging low on his hips, long thighs. The soft denim cupped a sizable bulge at his crotch, leaving no doubt that her attraction was returned tenfold.
All told, the man was a feast begging to be devoured.
And he’d all but challenged her to grab a fork.
“Let me guess. These radioactive boxers are making me glow like Las Vegas at midnight.”
The amusement in his tone jerked her attention back to his face. His eyes were dancing in mirth. And something else a helluva lot darker. Hungrier.
“You, um, look . . . nice. Really great,” she added, feeling thrown off her groove. His sexy smile hit her like a fist to the gut.
“A definite improvement over hospital haute couture, don’t you think? Damn, I feel almost human.”
Well, she certainly hadn’t been referring to the clothing. He couldn’t possibly be that innocent. Could he?
Any reply hovering on her lips was lost as Dr. Chu bustled in, handing Zack two prescriptions and issuing stern orders to continue the breathing treatments as an outpatient for at least another week. His directive to lay off work for at least two weeks and obtain written clearance to return to the station was met with silence on Zack’s part, his earlier humor evaporating. By the set of his jaw, Cori knew Zack had no intention of complying with that part of the doctor’s rules if he could figure a way around it.
A nurse pushed Zack out to the curb in a wheelchair, per hospital policy, while Cori brought her car around. Zack slid into the passenger’s seat and they were on the road. Glancing at him, Cori thought how surreal it was to have him sitting next to her. Her rescuer, with whom she’d already faced down death and won.
Because of his courage.
“Tell me something about yourself,” she said, turning west like he’d instructed, toward Clarksville.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Favorite food? Pet peeve?”
“Hmm. Okay, I love baby back ribs. I’d kill for a rack of those smothered with Jack Daniel’s barbecue sauce right now.” His stomach rumbled and she grinned.
“Obviously. We’ll have to do something about that. What else?”
“I hate pasta.”
“That’s not normal.”
“I know. But it’s slimy. Blech.” He thought for a few seconds. “That’s not nearly as strange as my pet peeve; I don’t like clowns.”
Cori laughed out loud, struggling to keep her attention on the road. “That’s just weird, Zack.
Clowns?
”
Clowns?
”
“As a kid, they seriously freaked me out.” He sighed. “Why doesn’t anyone but me think there’s something creepy about a grown man dressing in a clown suit and makeup? I mean, remember John Wayne Gacy?”
Goose bumps broke out on Cori’s arms. “Point taken.”
“Your turn.”
“All right. Pizza rocks. Hate liver. There’s something really disgusting about eating an organ that used to filter bile.”
“Well, thanks a million for that image.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s see, pet peeves. I have a few. Ten weenies in a package, but only eight buns. Okay, that’s only a figurative reference, but you get the drift. Stupid concepts bug me.”
“Then I’ll be careful not to reveal any dumb ideas around you,” he said wryly. “What about your family? Do they live around here?”
“I have three obnoxious, overbearing older brothers. Which is why they live on the East Coast and I live here.”
“Ah. Overprotective, are they?”
Cori rolled her eyes. “They almost drove me insane after our mother died, especially my oldest brother. He kept his thumb squashed down on me so hard, I did something unbelievably stupid to get out from under his iron rule.”
“Which was?”
“I got married.” She glanced at Zack to see how he’d absorbed that tidbit. He simply nodded, a sage expression on his face.
“It didn’t work out,” he guessed.
“No.”
Zack’s eyes narrowed. “Does your ex still bother you?”
“Hardly.” She swallowed hard, weighing the wisdom of opening the door on the awful pain. The guilt. Once she did, there was no turning back. “My oldest brother killed him,” she said, her voice almost inaudible.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Jesus Christ. You mean like . . .”
“In my defense. Alex had beaten me nearly to death and my brother caught him in the act. The grand jury chose not to indict.” Cori gripped the steering wheel tighter to hide the shakes. Zack was the only other person besides Shea with whom Cori had ever shared the darkest period in her life. Because sharing it also meant lying to those she’d come to care about, and it hurt too badly to do it.
“You know, that story is one best told over a long evening involving lots of alcohol,” she said.
“Understood. And as you said to me, when you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”
Unexpected tears rushed to her eyes. This man wore his kindness as easily as his clothing. And, oh, God, she could get addicted to the whole package that was Zack Knight.
“Thanks.” She sniffed and cleared her throat. “What about you? Where’s your family?”
The instant the words left her mouth, she inwardly cursed herself for being an idiot. But there was no taking them back without revealing what she already knew.
“My father is in a nursing home,” he said, surprising her. “He suffered a stroke last year and is basically a vegetable. He has waking periods, but he’s like an infant. Has to be fed, diapered.”
“Oh, Zack, I’m so sorry. What about your mother?”
He shrugged. “I never knew her. My father had lots of women in his heyday. One of them literally left me on his doorstep. Tests proved I was his, and he raised me by himself. Turn here.”
His voice was tense, controlled, as though giving a highly edited version of the story. Much like hers. She could hardly blame him for not wanting to open a vein.
Cori made the turn into a low-income neighborhood, each home more dilapidated than the last. Minutes later, as she pulled into his apartment complex, she blinked in astonishment, striving to keep the dismay from showing on her face. How could Zack—anyone—live in a dump like this?
A sagging roof that should’ve been replaced a decade ago and was missing a ton of shingles. Overgrown hedges that covered first-floor windows. Most of the windows visible on all three floors lacked screens, and many were broken or cracked.
The sidewalk was buckled and faded toys littered the muddy areas where grass refused to grow. Cigarette butts were strewn everywhere. Peeling paint that might have been any color at one time curled and flaked, like a skin disease with no cure.
A group of older teens wearing hooded sweatshirts lurked between two buildings, oblivious to the miserable cold. A wad of green and a small packet exchanged hands.
This wretched, filthy hellhole was not where someone wanted to be caught after sundown.
Expression closed, Zack pointed to a building on the far end, next to the complex’s office. “Park over there. I’m on the second floor.”
She did, and they got out, hunching their shoulders against the freezing wind and light mist that had started moments ago. Zack started to cough, and she worried about him being out in this weather, in his condition. Did his apartment have enough heat? If not, he’d find himself right back in the hospital.
“You don’t have to come up.” Clearing his throat, he studied the ground as they walked. The words were underscored with steel, and a touch of fierce pride.
He didn’t want her to see the inside of his apartment, and she hurt for him. She didn’t care what his place looked like; she cared about Zack. But now wasn’t the time to press the issue.
“I’ll just walk you to the door, if that’s okay. I’ve got to run.” She didn’t, but the lie gave him a way to salvage his pride.
His shoulders relaxed. “Sure. I’ll call you later?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, handsome.”
He smiled, ducked his head.
The smile vanished as they reached the second-floor landing. She followed him along the breezeway, wondering what on earth had him all tense when she’d just managed to lighten his mood.
He halted, and she nearly bumped into his back. “This is your pad, huh?”
Zack went dead still. She moved to his side, a chill of dread washing through her. His face paled and he stared at the door. Swaying on his feet, he plucked off a square of pink paper that had been taped to the surface.
He stared at the paper for several long moments, in shock.
His hoarse voice emerged as a whisper.
“No. I don’t live here anymore.”
7
Zack crushed the eviction notice in his hand. He wasn’t surprised. Had known this was coming, in fact. But he hadn’t planned on a witness to his latest humiliation.
Hadn’t planned on Cori.
He turned his back to the wall and leaned against it, buried his face in his hands. The paper fluttered to the concrete.
Broke
and
homeless. God, what a pathetic joke.
and
homeless. God, what a pathetic joke.
Think, genius. What now? Where will you go?
“What . . .”
A paper rustled, and he lowered his hands to see Cori holding the notice, jaw dropping in astonishment.
“They’re kicking
you
out? No way!”
you
out? No way!”
If she only knew. “Seems you have to pay them to live here. How picky is that?”
“But—they let drug dealers stay here,” Cori sputtered, indignant.
“Drug dealers have money. Hey, maybe those punks will set me up with a side job?” He laughed at his own pitiful joke, which ended in a round of coughing. Better than crying, though.
Scowling, she crushed the slip, tossed it over her shoulder. “Dammit, this isn’t right! Didn’t they even give you a grace period?”
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