Free Hard Core (Onyx Group) by Jennifer Lowery Page A

didn’t have the
strength he once had. She could handle Cristian, but she wasn’t letting him
hurt her father.
    “I appreciate it, Dad, but his fever is down, and the
antibiotics are working. It won’t be long now.”
    “Then you’ll release him and get him out of our lives?”
    “Yes. Let him go fight his war with Gavin, or whatever it is
they’re doing.”
    “You don’t believe he works for Ross? That he did something
wrong and got punished for it? Gavin Ross won’t let him live if he’s betrayed
him.”
    “I don’t know what to think,” she said on a sigh. Lord, she
was tired.
    Her father kissed her forehead. “Trust your instincts, dear.
You’ll do the right thing.” He walked to the door. “Looks like you’ve lost your
shoelaces. Might want to fix that.” Then he left.
    She glared at the man in her bed. He better hope he healed
quickly or she just might take his advice and shoot him. Twice. She stalked
over to where he lay and scowled down at him. Maybe she should let him fend for
himself. If the infection didn’t kill him, Ross would. They’d all sleep better
once he was gone. And she could easily send him packing right now. If it
weren’t for that incredibly broad chest of his and those hard planes and
muscles…
    Alana huffed out a breath. Why did he continuously turn her
thoughts in the wrong direction? Him patient, you doctor. She really had
to remember that. Her thoughts crossed hundreds of moral lines. Lines she had
never crossed and never planned on crossing again. She would not dishonor her
father or her reputation.
    Yet, she couldn’t stop her gaze from traveling over the dark
shadow of his jaw and down the defined muscles of his shoulders. She knew from
experience how strong he was. The unsatisfied part of her reared its stubborn
head, tightened her insides and sent a current of pure desire through her
veins.
    Her body remembered how he’d touched her, knew her, and
tingled in response.
    “Traitor,” she muttered. She was a fool. A big,
unprofessional fool.
    Alana dropped to her knees beside him and searched his
pockets for her knife. She found it strapped to his ankle. Angry that he dared
steal such a personal thing, she tucked it into her waistband. Her gaze
traveled over the heavy stubble on his jaw and dirt smeared across his chest.
    “I should let you lie in your own filth,” she groused.
Irritation coursed through her. “Would serve you right for stealing my knife
and tying me to a chair with my own laces.”
    Even as she wished she could do it, Alana started to gather
supplies to give her patient a sponge bath. Later, she would borrow her
father’s shave kit and make him look a bit more civil. Right now he looked like
a savage. One who tied women to chairs while they slept.
    She set the bowl of water and washcloth on the floor by the
bed and knelt beside him. His bandages were soaked in blood and needed changed.
He’d probably pulled his stitches during his escape. Well, she wasn’t going to
put them in again. Not after the miserable time she had the first round.
    With slow, gentle passes she cleaned the dirt off his face.
Then she moved to his bare chest, focused on the task instead of the lines and contours,
the power beneath his tanned skin. Cristian was nothing like her father, a
gentle, tender man with an easy smile that put his patients at ease. He had
treated her mother like a precious object he coveted. That’s how a man should
treat a woman. The only kind of marriage she would settle for, when she found a
way to change Gavin’s mind about their arrangement. He had to know she would
never love him.
    She stared down at Cristian. There was nothing gentle or
tender about this man, not even in sleep. His edges were rough.
    Alana dipped the cloth in the bowl and wrung it out, then
brushed it across his chest, her gaze trapped on the trail left on his skin.
Little goosebumps arose on his flesh and her stomach fluttered. Why did she
respond so to him? Crave his touch?