Free Hiding His Witness by C. J. Miller

flared with heat, excitement pooling in his lower extremities. A kiss of gratitude? Did she think she owed him something for helping her? He’d met women who’d never been given kindness without an expectation of a return favor. Is that what this was?
    He dropped his hand and stepped away. No matter how appealing she was, no matter how badly he wanted her beneath him, he had to keep some boundaries between them, maintain a professional distance to let her know she was safe here and no one expected she pay them back.
    “I’ll get you a towel,” he said quickly and put space between them before he threw his code of honor out the window, caved to his raging hormones and kissed her.
    * * *
    Carey peeled off her shoes and socks, grateful for the opportunity to bathe in a spotless shower. The one in her apartment had never made her feel clean. The water pressure hadn’t been good, the hot water lasted only a few minutes, and the stains on the walls and tub couldn’t be bleached away. She knew. She had tried endlessly to scrub them.
    The bathroom adjoined Reilly’s bedroom, where she would be sleeping, and his brother’s room, where he would be staying. One door separated the bathroom from where she presumed Reilly was napping. She was careful about every noise she made, trying not to make a racket and keep him awake. Then again, he had needed rest and might have stumbled into bed and fallen dead asleep.
    A refreshing shower would help her clear her head and settle her nerves. The terror of seeing Mark’s goons, the adrenaline rush of escaping, the surge of desire when she was close to Reilly mixed in her mind, confusing and exhausting her.
    Lifting her arms over her head to remove her shirt made the side of her ribs ache and she squelched a cry of pain that rose to her lips. She hadn’t had time to examine her injuries fully since the incident in the alley. Easing the shirt over her head, she folded it and set it on the floor. She inspected her back and her side in the bathroom mirror, both dark purple with bruises. She pulled her hair free of the elastic holding it and angled a hand mirror to examine her scalp in the bathroom mirror. Thanks to Reilly, the back of her head wasn’t a clotted bloody mess, but it needed to be tended to again.
    She looked at herself directly in the mirror and nearly gasped. Her dyed red hair hung limp around her head and dark rings circled her eyes. She looked gaunt and tired, the scrape on her chin red and raw. She hadn’t had a haircut in a salon in a year. Only the grown-out layers lingering in her hair gave it any shape. Trips to the salon for a trendy haircut belonged in her old life; she didn’t have time or money to be vain. She carefully removed the bandage from her arm and examined the cut. The butterfly stitches had held.
    The care Reilly had shown her, cleaning her cut, asking about her injuries, amounted to another point in his favor, another reason she liked him. Reilly Truman was the whole package: great career, great family, great protector and gorgeous, to boot. The chemistry between them wouldn’t quit. One touch of his hand had nearly unhinged her.
    Powerful, undeniable chemistry with a cop. Just what she needed to make this situation more difficult to navigate.
    She was lucky to be alive and grateful to be here with Reilly and his butt-kicking family. She wouldn’t have agreed to come, worried she would lure danger to them, but he’d presented his family like a team of superheroes. They could take care of themselves, and she wouldn’t be around for long. Maybe a few days at most, enough time for the worst of her wounds to heal. Then she could hitchhike to a nearby city and start her life over.
    Again.
    The idea made her weary, but she’d known her life would be this way when she ran from Mark. His arms extended long and his power was unstoppable. She’d do what she had to to stay alive and keep the people around her safe.
    Stepping into the shower, Carey winced