Scorch (The MacKenzie Family Book 17) (9 page)

T
hree Days
Later

A million tiny men marched through Shane’s skull. And he was pretty sure they had nails on the bottom of their shoes.

His eyes inched open, the inside of his eyelids gritty with what felt like sand, and the biting sting of sunlight had him slamming them closed again.

“Shi…” He didn’t quite have the strength to get the word out. His throat felt like he’d swallowed shards of glass and chased it with acid.

He did remember enough to know that he was home. The sun glared through the open blinds and tiny dust motes danced in the brightness. He had no idea what time it was. Or what day for that matter. His hand moved slowly to the side, snagging on the soft sheets of his bed. At least he’d made it to the bed this time. That was a step in the right direction. He would have smiled at the thought if it hadn’t hurt so bad to move his muscles.

And true to form, the spot next to him on the bed was empty. No woman wanted to fuck a cripple. He’d probably better get used to that too. No SEAL team to lead and no groupies to fuck.

He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head, hoping to either suffocate himself or at least stop the pounding. But it didn’t work. It turned out the pounding was coming from his front door instead of inside his head. Mostly.

“Go ’way,” he muttered into the pillow.

But the knocking turned into pounding. Whoever it was at the door was a persistent bastard. Probably one of his damned brothers or some other well-meaning relative. He fell over MacKenzies every time he turned around. They couldn’t even leave a man to drink in peace without giving him disapproving looks or lectures.

“I hope you’re decent,” a woman yelled from the other side of the door. “And if you’re not, I’m coming in anyway.”

Shane looked down the length of his naked body and quickly tossed the sheet over himself. There’d been a time when he’d have called her bluff and let her walk in on him, but there was no way in hell he wanted anyone to look at his body now. Big, strong Shane MacKenzie reduced to nothing but scars. He was no prize, that’s for damned sure.

The doorknob rattled, and he breathed out a sigh of relief when he realized it was locked and she’d have to go away. It wasn’t like he was going to haul himself to the door. But then a key slipped into the lock and he heard the tumblers turn as loud as cannon fire in his aching head.

The door opened and there were footsteps as she cross living room toward his bedroom. And then there she was in his doorway. Shane was struck speechless as a woman he’d never seen before came inside bold as you please, staring at him as if she was expected and he was in trouble. And then she closed his bedroom door and leaned against it.

The sound was the equivalent of a cannon, even though she hadn’t closed the door hard. He grabbed his head in misery and yelled, “What the fuck, lady?”

She only arched a brow and went around to all the windows, opening the blinds so the entire room was cast in blindingly white light. She didn’t respond to his outrage. The look on her face was pleasant, but determined. She wore blue scrubs and her blonde hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup. There was nothing remarkable he could see about her at first glance.

She looked young. Maybe somewhere in her mid-twenties, and her body was small. Shane had always loved curves on a woman, but this woman had no curves at all. She was built like a twelve-year-old boy.

As she opened the curtains and the light came in, dust motes flitted through the air and he saw the state of the room. It wasn’t pretty. He couldn’t remember exactly when he’d finally told his family to leave him the hell alone. Maybe sometime yesterday morning. And he’d started drinking shortly after that. The rest of the day and night had been a blur, but there were chairs knocked over and dirty plates of food laying around. Not to mention the empty bottle of Jameson’s on his bedside table or the half dozen empty beer bottles. No wonder he felt so bad. The two definitely didn’t mix, but he’d obviously decided to keep drinking until there was nothing left.

The irony of the whole thing was he’d started drinking because his leg, the one that wasn’t there, hurt so bad he thought he might be going insane. The pain pills they’d given him didn’t work. It didn’t make sense. But the pain was there as if his leg was still attached. And once he’d started drinking and things started to get fuzzy, he’d decided it wasn’t such a bad place to be.

But he was paying for it now.

“Umm—hello? Last time I checked, you need an invitation before you just barge into someone’s home. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not fit for company.”

“Oh, I noticed,” she finally said, her task of opening all of the blinds complete. The sun shone at her back, so it was hard for him to see her as she started toward him. “It’s time for physical therapy. I’m Doctor Shaw, by the way.”

“Ahh, Declan’s whiz kid who runs the hospital. What the hell did you do to get demoted to babysitting duty?”

“I’m thirty-three years old, and I don’t think I’ve ever been a kid. Even when I was one. This isn’t a punishment for me, no matter how much you think you can make it one, so get that out of your head right now. Some assignments are more important than others. This is one of them.”

“Ah, someone’s fed you a bullshit company line,” he said. “How we’re all working for the greater good and we’re all on the same team. Believe me, I know what a fucking team is. You guys are just minions doing Declan’s bidding. He plays a hell of a game of chess, our Declan.”

“You seem to have a high opinion of your brother.”

Shane felt himself flush with shame and anger. “He is what he is, but he runs a corporation at the heart of it all. We’re all just puppets doing someone else’s bidding. Myself included.”

“Interesting theory,” she said. “Yet if you had the choice to do it again, you’d still save Sophia’s life.”

He choked out what might have been a laugh and covered his eyes with his arm since the light was like needles in his eyeballs. “Yeah, that’s the real kick in the teeth. Only this time maybe I’d do it right and die. You can thank your minions at the hospital for screwing that one up. Heard I died a couple of times on the operating table. Maybe you can tell me the name of the prick doctor who saved my life and took my leg.”

“Why? Perhaps you’d like to send a thank you note?” she asked sweetly. “Your hands still work. Though it seems like your manners don’t.”

“I’m not too concerned about manners at the moment.”

“It’s a good thing manners aren’t necessary for physical therapy.”

“No offense, lady. But there’s no way in hell I’m getting out of bed this morning. I had a rough night.”

“I have a nose that smells, so believe me, I’m aware of the kind of night you had.”

Shane gritted his teeth as his temper began to boil. His brothers always accused him of having a short fuse. It was true for the most part, except when he was on a mission—because temper would only get his men killed—and around women, because his mother would have bashed him upside the head if he’d ever been anything but respectful. But there was something about this Doctor Shaw that immediately set his teeth on edge.

“Listen, lady. I don’t know why Dec sent you, but you can go back to the hospital and work with someone else.”

“Dec sent me because he loves you. And because you’ve got a lot of work to do if you want to be field ready again.”

He didn’t remember doing it, but before he realized what had happened he was up in the bed, the sheets tangled around his waist, and the lamp next to him broken. Shards of glass had flown everywhere. He deliberately pulled his hand away and stared at the red droplets of blood welling in the crease. He took a deep breath and leveled his gaze at Doctor Shaw, the anger banked so it simmered just beneath his skin.

“I don’t know what kind of cruel joke you’re playing or what delusional rehabilitation schedule you see me on, but I’ll never be mission ready again. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a fucking
leg
.”

“It’s good you like the word fuck so much. You can use it in physical therapy. Doctor Heinz really likes it. It’s one of his favorite words.”

His eyes widened that she’d speak to him like that. He’d made grown men weep with his temper, and here was this little slip of a woman ordering him around like a drill sergeant and making him so mad he could feel the pulse pounding behind his eyes.

She went to his chest of drawers and began opening them, pulling out underwear, a clean shirt, and athletic shorts, tossing them toward him on the bed. A pair of socks hit him in the chest, and it was then he remembered the blood on his hand. He wrapped one of the socks around his hand and she threw him another pair immediately, almost as if she’d expected him to do that.

“Let’s roll, Lieutenant,” she said. “The infection in your leg from the shrapnel set you back a bit as far as getting your prosthetic. We’ll give it a few more days and see how it looks. It’s best not to rush it and make matters worse. I promise you don’t want anything to get in the way of your prosthetic once it’s on. It’s very, very cool.”

“Is it just like the leg I had? The flesh and bone one that was once where the big empty space is now?”

“Of course not,” she said matter of factly. “But it’s the closest thing you can get to it, and your limitations will be minimal.”

“But there will be limitations,” he said. “So I’ve got to put this in the I don’t fucking care category.”

“It’s learning how to use what you have to your best advantage,” she told him. “I’d figure a SEAL would value that kind of resourcefulness.”

“I’m not a SEAL anymore.”

“Really? I dated a SEAL once. I always thought the credo was once a SEAL always a SEAL.”

His lips tightened and he looked away, but she kept talking.

“Once PT is done we’ll hit the pool to get you stretched out. I promise you’re going to be sore by the end of the day. It’s important to get a routine going.”

“Do you ever shut up?” he asked her.

“I’m usually pretty quiet,” she said, picking up cups and other dishes he’d left lying around the room and stacking them neatly. “Unless I’m giving orders.”

“I only take orders from superior officers,” he told her.

“Then that should be easy. I left the service as a Captain. Now get your ass out of bed and put on your clothes, or I’ll drag you out of here naked.”

That surprised him, but he didn’t let it show. God, how he hated himself in this moment. Hated everything about himself. He was being a prick. He knew it. And he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything.

“I didn’t realize bitch had a rank,” he said.

She had the audacity to laugh at him and he tossed back the covers so he was fully exposed. Maybe if his attitude didn’t frighten her away his body would. But she didn’t respond, one way or the other.

“I’m a General when it comes to being a bitch. You should see me during surgery.”

“No, thanks. Now make sure you lock the door on your way out. My family likes to pop in all hours of the day and night to check on me.”

“And we wouldn’t want anyone checking up on you. It looks like you’re doing so well for yourself.”

“Hey, I’ve managed just fine. I haven’t needed you the last couple of days, so I don’t know why Declan thinks I need you now.”

“Because you smell like the inside of a whiskey bottle. And I would’ve been here when they released you, but someone burned my house down so I was a little preoccupied. Declan said your family could hold down the fort until I could make arrangements to move into the cabin down the road.”

She said it so matter-of-factly he wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not. “Someone burned down your house?”

Something tingled along his skin. A sort of warning or awareness. It was the same prickly feeling he got when he and his team would approach a mission by water—each of them coming up as silent as death, just waiting for the moment to strike.

“You’re sure it was arson?” he asked, immediately wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. There was no reason to engage in conversation or make this woman think she was welcome here.

“Yep, and they didn’t even try to cover it up. They set several points of origin and turned on the gas stove. The whole house was ablaze in a matter of minutes. There was nothing left for the firefighters to do but contain it once they arrived.”

“Any idea who’d do it?” he asked.

“Not a clue. But we’re all very aware that my security clearance makes me a target for competitors of MacKenzie Security.”

She moved so the sun was no longer at her back and he could finally get a good look at her face. Average had been his first thought on seeing her. But he hadn’t seen her eyes. They weren’t blue—they were a brilliant amethyst. And they changed a rather ordinary face into a remarkable one.

His cock responded in a way it hadn’t since before his accident. Unbelievable. He hadn’t had a hard-on in months. He ached everywhere. His head was pounding. And because he saw her eyes his dick was harder than he’d ever remembered it being.

He leaned his elbows on his knees and propped his aching head up with his hands as he tried to get himself under control.

“Look,” he said, changing tactics out of desperation. The hard-on wasn’t going away, and he was afraid if she stuck around he’d really embarrass himself. He clearly had no control over his body anymore. “You seem very determined. I’m sure Declan appreciates that. But I can make it to PT on my own. Whether I go right now or later this afternoon won’t make much difference. It’s still going to suck and I still won’t have a leg by the end of it.”

“No time like the present,” she countered.

“I said I’m not going. We’re done with this conversation. I’m about to be a real asshole if you don’t do what I say.”

“Because you’ve been so sweet up to this point?” she asked. “MacKenzie, I was an Army medic for a lot of years. I’m used to assholes. And I could drop you on your ass if I wanted to without batting an eyelash. It’ll be a cold day in hell before someone like you has me running away in tears. Now get up and let’s get you in the shower so I can actually start breathing through my nose again.”