Free Justice Mine: a Base Branch Novel by Megan Mitcham

amended. Her lips thinned and every hint of mocking fled her expression. Finally, it seemed she understood the seriousness of his conviction.
    “I don’t even know who they are or why they targeted me.”
    Law held his hand out to Magdalena. “Let’s have it.”
    Her gaze flew to the hand he indicated, tucked loosely behind the knitted blanket. The angles of her face drew tight, but she didn’t refuse or whine. She uncovered it and placed her small hand in his. Her palm flattened onto his, cooling his heat with her touch. Like the night before, the contact jolted him enough to lob his ass clear cross the room, and he forced himself to breathe through the charge.
    At the knuckle of her ring finger, the delicate digit skewed the uniform lines of the rest. It hooked forty-five degrees left. Law positioned two fingers of his right hand on the underside of hers where a man would—were he lucky enough—place a wedding ring. She drew a breath between her lips. He kept his touch light and caressed his way over her smooth skin to the tip of her close cropped nail.
    “It’s not broken.”
    “Sure looks broken to me.” Magdalena pursed her lips.
    “I am truly astounded at your faith in me, tart.”
    She smiled at that, and the warmth it generated was strikingly similar to sun beamed on his face. A bit of the dread leaked out of his body and a hint of another smile curved his own lips.
    “Tart?”
    “Absolutely.” Bitter and sweet.
    When he didn’t explain, she nodded. “Okay, if it’s not broken why does it look like an L?”
    “Dislocated.”
    “And that’s so much better.” Her blatant sarcasm stretched his face into a full-blown grin.
    He set her hand on her knee and reached for her feet, but she scooted them away.
    “They’re just dirty. I can take care of them.”
    Lord save him from women. Especially this one. With practiced speed, he snatched both her heels in his palms. “I don’t mind getting dirty.”
    Her sweet cheeks flushed bright pink and his flagging dick soared to life. Brought that one on yourself, idiot. Law bent low, strangling his cock to get a good look at Magdalena’s scraped and bruised feet.
    “Sit tight.” For emphasis, he pinned her with a stern gaze.
    When she gave a slight nod Law stood and turned away quickly to retrieve the necessary items to clean her up and hide his tented pants. After riffling through the kitchen he returned to find her still perched on the edge of the couch, her gaze following his every move. Law wasn’t modest, but he should put on a damn shirt. Maybe then her intense study wouldn’t raise goosebumps across his chest as though her soft fingers stroked his skin. He’d been ready to fight with his mattress in hopes of eking out a couple decent hours sleep. A mission doomed to fail at the outset.
    “You really don’t have to—"
    “Try all you like, but you won’t stop me,” he said, baiting her.
    Her cheeks hollowed like she chewed the insides to keep from tearing into him. He winked to push her over the edge. Law wanted her attention on him and not the torment to come. Plus, he got hot when she cussed. Many women were so prim and proper they’d rather bite through their tongue than give a sharp piece of their mind. In the little bit he’d known Magdalena, she’d lashed him up one side, down the other, and made him angry he didn’t have more sides to offer.
    “How can someone be so nice and bloody infuriating at the same time?”
    “I thought you could tell me .”
    “Humph.” When he kneeled before her she clamped her mouth and eyes closed, but they flew open when he lifted her feet. Warm water and dissolved Epsom salt swirled around the roaster he positioned beneath two petite feet. As he lowered them, cute reddish-pink nails elongated, shrank, and then widened, distorting under the surface. When they settled on the bottom of the pan, his gaze migrated to hers. He read every emotion as it played across her beautiful features. Pain. Resolve.