Free Hiding His Witness by C. J. Miller Page B

obvious she’d been right about the muscles beneath his clothes. Roped arms, steely chest, tight abs. Yowsa. “My back. I can’t move without shooting pain up my spine.”
    He held out his hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, just take it easy. Can I come closer?”
    Yes. For heaven’s sake, yes. Although if he touched her, the fierce need pooling in her stomach might ignite and consume her. “Sure.”
    Reilly kept his eyes riveted on her face and an odd sensation of delight roiled through her. Perhaps it wasn’t disgust at her bruises. Maybe this was his way of showing respect for her in her awkward, half-naked form. That thought strengthened her desire. What she needed was for him to do something appalling to turn her off.
    Reilly held his hands a few inches from her body. “I’m going to see if you have anything broken, okay?”
    “My rib cage hurts pretty badly,” she said. “And my back hurts when I move.”
    He set his hand along her spine and then touched her rib cage. Pain shot to her side, followed by excited sparks at the contact.
    “Your ribs might be broken or bruised.”
    Carey took a deep breath and winced. Even that hurt. “Can I get some more pain medication?” Aspirin. Ibuprofen. Anything.
    “My father was a medic for the SEALs. Can I have him examine you?”
    “Could I get something to wear? Or maybe a blanket?” It was uncomfortable enough being with Reilly half-naked, never mind in front of his father. Reilly thought for a moment. “Let me get you a zip-up sweatshirt. We can put it on without too much movement.”
    Almost before she could blink, he’d returned with a sweatshirt. He slipped it over her arms and zipped the front. “Better?”
    Marginally. “Thank you. I don’t feel comfortable with...”
    “No worries. I understand.”
    An unexpected connection zipped between them. She didn’t have to explain or put words to how she was feeling. He got it. He got her.
    Reilly left and returned a few minutes later with his father, who introduced himself as Doc. He had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen and much like with Reilly, she instinctively trusted him—as least a little bit. She’d made some pretty bad decisions in the past. The latest incident with the Vagabond Killer in the alley was a great example.
    “How did you come by these injuries?” Doc asked.
    He stated the question casually, but she heard something clinging to the edge of his words. How should she answer? Did Reilly want him to know the truth? She shot Reilly a questioning look, and he nodded at her to continue.
    Minimal information was best. “Yesterday I walked into a situation. A fight in an alley. I tried to blast the guy with pepper spray, which made him pretty mad.”
    Doc looked at his son, his brow furrowed. “You weren’t with her?”
    Reilly shook his head. “I was working.”
    Doc harrumphed. He held the hem of the sweatshirt she wore in his hand. “May I?” he asked and she nodded. He lifted the shirt slightly and examined her rib cage. “Best guess is you have some bruised ribs.”
    Her streak of bad luck continued. “What can I do?”
    “You should see a doctor and get some X-rays. See if there’s other damage,” Doc said.
    Slow breath in, slow breath out. “I can’t do that.”
    “Why not?” Doc and Reilly asked at the same time.
    Myriad reasons. She didn’t have a real identity or health insurance. If she admitted she didn’t have the money, Reilly might offer to pay and she owed him too much already. “I want to wait a few days and see if it heals itself.” Was that possible?
    Doc twisted his lips in thought, but mercifully, didn’t argue. “Then we’ll keep them wrapped and try not to jostle you too much. Let’s get some aspirin for the pain.”
    Reilly and his father set about getting her medication and wrapping her rib cage with some ACE bandages. Then Reilly lifted her, moving her as little as possible, and laid her on the bed. “You need to rest your body. Try to let