Free Invasion of Justice (Shadows of Justice) by Regan Black

him. "Do I really want to know?"
    He opened one eye and took the bottle with his right hand, a small grimace the only indicator of his pain. "You should let me help with that shoulder." She should've taken the pain away when he was passed out.
    "You should learn to defend yourself," he countered. "Learn how to fight. I could teach you..." His voice was rough with exhaustion.
    Petra gaped at him. He was serious. Seriously deluded. "No. I don't need to fight. I can keep things under control." He shook his head, doubt stamped on his weary face. Tired or not, she itched to slap the look away. "I don't need your approval or help or anything. I'm a grown woman capable of taking care of myself."
    "Right."
    "I don't care for your tone."
    "Makes two of us." He sighed. "Truce?"
    Startled into silence, she nodded.
    "Think you can you help with a techno-ectomy?" He lifted the knife toward her. "I'll talk you through it."
    "Oh. I–I don't know." Petra panicked. He couldn't possibly be asking her to cut into his flesh.
    "I'm left handed, but damned tired." He reached over and traced a small oval on his right biceps. "There's a little stick in here that I'm ready to part with."
    She hovered, uncertain which way to run. He solved her dilemma by catching her wrist and pulling her down to the couch beside him.
    "I promise not to whine." He took the knife back and used it to sketch an incision line. "Just cut quick and deep and I'll pop it right out." He pressed the knife into her hand.
    "Do you have a laser to close the wound?"
    He shook his head. "We'll use the shirt to tie it."
    "But–"
    "I heal fast." One positive lingering effect of the mandatory juicing. "Just do it." He let his head fall back and he closed his eyes. "Remember–quick and deep."
    She stared at the thin line of blood on his arm. The knife felt like lead in her hand. He held so still his control scared her. "This thing in your arm made you sick?"
    He grunted an affirmative.
    She pushed the knife into his flesh, the sharp blade moving smoothly through his firm skin and taut muscle. She followed the line precisely, clamping down on the nausea roiling her stomach.
    As promised, Gideon reached over and squeezed, popping out a small, narrow cylinder. Gideon's blood slid away from the iridescent silver tube until it gleamed like new.
    Petra pulled back, ready to comment, but he signaled for silence. She turned her attention to bandaging his wound, while he snapped the tube in half and dropped it into the water bottle.
    "Now you can talk," he said.
    "As if there were words," she muttered, moving away. "I'm outta here."
    "Not alone you're not."
    The audacity of the man! "I can take care of myself."
    "With the right skills, maybe. Whoever left you a note and opened my door, didn't ask me. That means you were set up and not aware enough to know it. You really want to go another round with that guy tonight?" He arched a dark brow.
    She scowled, but refused to rise to the bait. 'That guy' was long gone. Gideon might be infuriating, but from his perspective, she supposed he thought he had a point. Studying him, she thought of what he'd been through. She should cut him some slack. "Fair enough. What exactly would you teach me?"
    His eyes sparked, then resumed the disinterested veil. "Tonight, not much. In the morning I'll take you to an instructor I know. You'll like her."
    "Her?"
    "Careful, your gender bias is starting to show."
    She wanted to punch his tender arm. Why he brought out the worst in her, she couldn't say. Only the pale cast to his skin kept her in line. She changed the subject and moved to a chair several feet away. "Tell me about this 'her'." She hoped in the telling she'd learn a little more about him.
    He rested his head back again. "She's an expert in all things lethal. Hand-to-hand, knives, stunners, guns. The lady knows her weaponry, old and new."
    "You know her how?"
    "Jealous much?" He chuckled. "You need to rest. Go use the bed. We'll see her tomorrow."
    Petra