“Don’t you fucking dare call anyone!”
“Then let me help you. What can I do?” Lena asked as she knelt down beside his leg.
“No! Go away, and I’ll deal with it,” he yelled again. This time his eyes glazed over. He was in major pain and refused to allow her to get help.
She reached for his leg, and he grabbed her wrist so hard that she fell against his chest. His face was inches from hers.
“I. Don’t. Want. Your. Fucking. Help,” he stated through clenched teeth.
She swallowed hard. His eyes showed the pain and the perspiration on the collar of his shirt looked hours old. He might have been here all night, stuck like this.
“You know, soldier boy, you’re really starting to piss me off with your macho, ‘I don’t need anyone’ bullshit.”
He literally growled at her as he held her wrist tighter and pulled her closer to him.
“You think you’re tough, Detroit? You think you’ve got what it takes to defy me?”
She wondered where the hell he was going with this. She knew nothing about men, and the Jones brothers were the epitome of Alpha males who liked to dominate and rule. She swallowed hard.
“I think you’re scared of me,” she replied, and he released her wrist and tried to shove her away from him.
“You’re fucking crazy. Get off of me.” He told her as she sat up. She didn’t reach for her wrist to rub it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that he hurt her.
“If you’re not scared of me, then let me help you. Maybe if I rub down your leg, it will ease the ache?”
/> She reached for his leg, and soldier boy shot his venom.
“You just want to touch me. I get it, Detroit. You want to fuck me like you’re fucking my brothers.”
She swallowed her anger and annoyance. He was being cruel because she was getting to him.
She smiled at him as she reached for his leg and began to rub it.
“I thought we went over that, soldier boy.”
He fell back onto the rug and moaned and groaned as she massaged the tight muscles. The more she rubbed and massaged, the looser his leg got. She could actually feel the tightness disappear.
He placed his arm over his eyes. He looked utterly exhausted.
“How’s that?” she asked him.
“That’s enough,” he scolded.
“Do you need help getting up?” she asked as she absorbed the fact that such a big, mean, strong man was lying on the floor in such agony and pain. He refused help to do some exercises and to assist him around the house because he didn’t want his family to see him this way.
He moved his arm and looked at her.
“What are you staring at? Never seen a cripple before?” She was shocked. That’s what he thinks he is?
“I’ve been on my own for years and seen a lot of things. Things that I don’t care to remember and people I would be fine with never seeing again. I’ve seen real cripples, not men like you who insist upon holding on to the past and giving up instead of fighting for what they deserve.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing? You think I’ve given up?”
“Hell yeah, soldier boy. I heard you howling at the moon in one of your nightly drunken states, asking the good Lord above to take you.”
He looked shocked but she didn’t care. Maybe he needed a bit of his own medicine.
“Yeah, well, what do you know about war, sweetheart? What do you know about watching your friends, your good buddies, die around you, being blown to pieces while you lie there helpless? You don’t know a fucking thing about death, about watching those you care about suffer, get tortured then killed as if they were animals. So put a cork in it, darling, and get the fuck out of here.”