Wild & Sweet (The Haven Brotherhood) Page 3

  He’d barely got his car out of gear before Danny jumped out, rounded the hood and jogged to the house’s main entrance. After grabbing his gear from the trunk, Zeke met up with the two-man ambulance crew before they could get their rig in Reverse. “Gabrielle ever accept treatment?”

  “Sorry, man. We can’t talk treatment without a release.”

  “Right. Let me put this a different way. I’m a doc and a friend of the family. How did she present?”

  The driver glanced over at his partner, who promptly shrugged as if to say he didn’t have a clue. He looked back at Zeke. “You taking responsibility?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The guy huffed and rubbed the top of his head. “She’s a stubborn one. Never did let us do an assessment, but given the way she’s holding her torso and the shallow breaths, I’d say she’s got contusions and cracked or broken ribs.”

  “Anything else? Focus? Dizziness? Pupils?”

  “Looked okay as far as we could tell. Hung around as long as our boss would let us, but if she’s not up for help, we’ve got no reason to stay.”

  Zeke nodded to them both, waved, and stepped back so they could back out. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  Jace and Axel strolled up on either side of him, but it was Jace who spoke. “What’s our play on this?”

  “If we’re as close to bringing Danny in as I think we are, then I vote we treat him like we would a brother.”

  Axel grinned, slid one hand in his designer slacks and moseyed toward the cluster of cops gathered in front of the house. “Take control it is, then.”

  Jace chuckled and prowled alongside him. For about a millisecond, Zeke pitied Rockwall’s finest. The founding members of the Haven Brotherhood were notorious for sending the best of law enforcement on a merry dance. In under five minutes, they’d have this crew eating out of their hands.

  Zeke jogged up the steps to the front stoop where a uniformed rookie stood watch. Before the kid could put up much of an argument, Zeke slid through the open front door and into the main living room. Two steps in, he froze.

  The woman beside Danny had her head down, her hair obscuring her face, but the differences between them even without her facial features showing were night and day. Where Danny was even with Zeke at six foot three, Gabe couldn’t be much over five foot. And she was tiny. A honey-blond faerie hidden behind a deceptively rough exterior of faded jeans, flannel shirt and steel-toed boots.

  Danny’s escalating voice punched through Zeke’s dumbfounded haze. “What the fuck do you mean there’s nothing you can do? She’s hurt. She gave you a description. Find the motherfucker and make his ass pay.”

  Before the cop could consider putting the cuffs on his belt to good use, Zeke stepped in. “Hey, Danny. How about you let me see how your sister’s doing?” He offered his hand to the cop on Gabe’s other side, opened his mouth to speak, and damned near swallowed his tongue.

  Oh, yeah. Gabe was a living breathing faerie, complete with pale blue eyes, a heart-shaped face and pouty, full lips. No man could look at her mouth and not crave at least a taste.

  “I’m Dr. Dugan.” He forced his attention away from Gabe and focused on the irritated cop. “I’m a friend of the family. I think if we can make sure Gabe’s okay, everybody’s stress level might even out. You got everything you need from her for now?”

  The cop shook the hand offered and nodded, more than a little relief dancing behind his tired eyes. “What we don’t have now, we can follow up on tomorrow.” He cast a curt glare Danny’s direction then a tight smile at Gabe. “You think of anything else, don’t hesitate to use the number I gave you.”

  If she heard anything the cop said, or noted his swift departure, she didn’t show it, keeping her gaze locked on Zeke. Her breaths were definitely shallow, and not once had she loosened the arm she had wrapped around her torso. The other arm she kept tucked tight to her side. The light in the room wasn’t much, but her pupils looked normal.

  She inched behind Danny and sucked in a short, sharp gasp. “I’m fine.”

  God, she was cute. Kind of like a cornered, feral kitten who couldn’t decide whether to bolt for the closest hiding spot or come out clawing. Even glaring daggers at him it was all he could do to hold back a chuckle. “That’s what the paramedics said you told them, too. The problem is, your brother’s about to go vigilante on a bunch of guys with badges because he’s worried about you. He’d probably let that shit go a whole lot faster if someone who actually knew what they were talking about made that call.”

  “For the love of God, Gabe,” Danny said. “Zeke’s a trauma doc. He drove all the way out here, so just let him check you out.”

  The arm she held wrapped around her torso tightened and, while it was a subtle move, she flinched. Not a good sign if such a minute shift caused her pain.

  “Give me five minutes,” he said. “You might be right and just have a strain. If that’s the case, you can give Danny a hard time for making a fuss.”

  She bit her lower lip, and his gut tensed as sure as he’d taken a physical punch.

  Funny. Under normal circumstances, he could out-wait the most stubborn patient, but standing there in front of her, an almost lethal tension burned through his muscles. Like his whole damned life teetered on the tip of a fiber-optic point and could topple into hell or float to heaven depending on how she answered.

  Her gaze shuttled from Danny to Zeke. “Five minutes.”

  Wow, Danny hadn’t over exaggerated. People really could get the wrong impression from his sister’s hard exterior, but the fear behind her eyes said the limit was more about what she could tolerate when it came to strangers.

  “Five minutes,” he agreed. He could have done it in three, but he’d take the extra bonus. Then he’d figure out how to make the leap from stranger to someone worthy of coaxing the wild and sweet kitten from her corner.

  Gabe was out of her ever lovin’ mind. Saying she could make it five minutes around Danny’s friend without coming off like a complete idiot was like saying she could tap dance for ten thousand people. If he’d been some average, ordinary Joe, maybe she could have pulled it off, but this guy—this doctor—was too beautiful for words. Olive skin, storm-gray eyes and dark chocolate hair cut in one of those short GQ-model styles that was just long enough a woman could run her fingers through it.

  Or hang on for dear life while he kissed her with those killer lips.

  Danny prowled to the wide window that spanned the front of the living room. They were down to just one cop car now, but the red-and-blue lights on top of it still strobed for all they were worth. “I’ll go follow up on Mrs. Wallaby’s house. Make sure she’s locked up.”

  “No.” She twisted to stop him, and a sharp jolt pierced straight through her chest. Scrunching her eyes, she held her breath and prayed the pain would ebb a little faster than it had the last two times she’d made such an ill-advised move. She wasn’t stupid. Whatever injury she’d earned was way worse than anything else she’d had before, and if she hadn’t seen the whopping ambulance bill Mr. Decker down the street had earned after his heart attack, she might have let the paramedics take a look.

  Big, strong hands curled around her shoulders. Not Danny’s, though. She opened her eyes and got a load of Zeke’s up close and personal goodness. Talk about effective pain relief. Her whole damned body purred on idle, soaking in everything about him, stabbing pains be damned. You couldn’t really say he had a beard. More like well-trimmed morning stubble that accented a strong square jawline. His nose made her think of marauding Vikings, but up close his lips made her full-on stupid.

  Zeke loosened his grip on her shoulders and smoothed his big hands to her upper arms. “Steady now?”

  Steady was debatable, but she wasn’t thinking about the ache anymore. More like 100 percent focused on the warmth of his touch through he
r soft flannel button-down. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He locked gazes with Danny over her shoulder. “How about you stick with us for right now? Axel and Jace have things out there under control.”

  “Yeah, man. Absolutely. Whatever she needs.”

  Zeke studied her a second longer, released his hold on her arms, and jerked his head toward the bedrooms down the hall behind him. “How about we check you where we don’t run the risk of an audience?”

  He turned and led the way before she could muster any kind of argument. Careful not to jar her torso, she followed him down the hallway, Danny close beside her with a sturdy hand at her back. The stage fright sensation that came with strangers wasn’t surprising after battling it for years, but her response to Zeke was different. Even Jimmy Franklin in high school didn’t have this kind of impact on her, and he’d muddled her mind enough to talk her into giving up her virginity in the backseat of his mother’s Honda.

  Zeke Dugan was a whole different beast. Everything about him was bold and powerful. Even the way he walked commanded attention. For a doc, he was pretty dressed down, his faded Levi’s molding lean hips and grip-worthy backside. His pale blue T-shirt was simple, too, but stretched across his torso in a way that promised lean, defined muscles underneath. Everything about him exuded confidence. A man comfortable taking control even in unfamiliar surroundings.

  Without his powerful scrutiny bearing down on her, her thoughts boomeranged back to Zeke’s comment and the shitty committee that inevitably piped up with any unknown or stressful situation stomped up to their pulpit.

  You don’t know this man.

  Unknown equals unsafe.

  Too many people, all of them looking at you.

  Judging you.

  She tried to ignore the surging chorus and muttered to Danny, “Who’re Axel and Jace? I don’t want them in Mrs. Wallaby’s house.”

  “They’re friends.” Danny kept his easy stride. “Good people. If Mrs. Wallaby was here, she’d have Axel set up with chocolate cake inside of five minutes, so let it go.”

  Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one her neighbor had entrusted with her house, and she couldn’t afford to let one of the few people she could actually talk to down. For years, Mrs. Wallaby had been the closest thing to a mother she’d had.

  Instead of taking a left to Danny’s room, Zeke stepped into hers, flipped on her light, and stood to one side of the door. He motioned her toward the bed. “You want to sit or stand?”

  “Stand,” she said. Then tacked on an awkward, “Please.” Yep. No way was she getting anywhere near a bed with this guy. She couldn’t even manage decent manners, let alone conversation, and he wasn’t even in touching distance yet. And was that a foreign accent? At first she’d thought he sounded like someone from the East Coast, but for a second there, his words had an almost Latin lilt to them.

  “Not a problem.” He shut the door like he was in a physician’s exam room instead of surrounded by her very private haven. “Danny, can you get the blinds?”

  He’s only here as a favor to your brother.

  No man like this guy would ever be interested in you anyway.

  If you let him look too close, he’ll see the real you.

  Before she could panic and bolt, he was in front of her, the expression on his face all business. His long strong fingers cupped the sides of her face along her jawline and guided her head side to side, then front to back as if checking mobility. “Danny said you fell?”

  She tried to mute the negative thoughts in her head and nodded, though his firm grip didn’t allow for much. “Whoever it was pushed me over.”

  “You landed on the floor?”

  “No, on the coffee table.”

  “That thing?” Danny said. “I’ve seen cinder blocks with more give.”

  The quip drew a grin from Zeke and the lightheadedness Gabe had struggled with grew a whole lot more pronounced.

  “Pretty sturdy stuff, huh?” He checked her eyes. “Did you hit your head?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “No loss of consciousness?”

  “No.”

  “Dizziness?”

  “Does not being able to breathe count?”

  It came out huskier than she’d intended, and she blanked her face to try and cover it.

  Instead of garnering distance with her disaffected expression as she had when she’d used it in high school, Zeke nailed her with a blisteringly hot smile. Her heart jolted hard enough to give her shrieking ribs a run for their money. “Yeah, that counts.”

  “Okay, then dizzy.” See? Not so bad. She’d answered his questions and only came across as a borderline bitch. Not too bad considering the circumstances. Until he reached for the unbuttoned edges of her flannel shirt and edged it off her shoulders.

  Gabe jerked away and gasped at the sudden movement, tightening her arm around her chest.

  Zeke froze, but kept his hold on her shirt. His voice was low and calm. Professional and soothing. “I need to see, gatinha. Danny’s here. You’re safe.”

  God, she was an idiot. Of course, it wasn’t personal. He was a doctor and did this kind of crap every day. Heck, she’d probably never see him again after tonight anyway. She nodded and focused on the far wall. Colors from her latest art projects tucked into her many photo boards blurred together. Soft pink flowers, bold blue skies and sage-green grass. “It’s Gabe, not gatinha.”

  “I know what your name is.” Even without looking, she could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Then who’s gatinha?” The soft flannel skimmed over her shoulders and down her arms, leaving tiny goose bumps in its wake. The fabric swooshed in an airy heap to the bed behind her.

  “Not a who. A what. You see if you can figure it out while I check your ribs.” He urged her to drop the arm she still had wrapped around her middle and lifted the hem of her tank. The cotton tickled her bare flesh on the way up, and his breath drifted light and teasing across her belly as he crouched beside her.

  She tried to block him out, to imagine she was someplace else, but his scent was all around her. Not overpowering cologne like some men favored, but a barely there hint of something summery and warm. Like a really high-priced body wash with a seriously powerful, yet sensual undercurrent.

  He pressed in one particular spot on her side, and she hissed. “This where you made impact?”

  Despite the painful contact, her cheeks burned as though someone had taken a blow torch to them and her heart fluttered in an out-of-control beat. “I think so.”

  “You’ll have some pretty bruises for sure.” He straightened and stood perpendicular to her injured side, placing one hand over her sternum and the other directly opposite on her spine. “I’m going to push my hands together, and I want you to show me where it hurts, okay?”

  She nodded, almost eager for something to take her mind off all the other sensations battering through her. In all of a second, she changed her mind, the slow pressure between his hands sending a brutal stab through her chest. She pointed to where it hurt. “Here.”

  Instantly, he let go and stepped back, reaching for the high-end messenger bag he’d brought with him. The stethoscope he pulled free sent a wave of relief through her. This routine she was familiar with. With the ear tips in place, he stepped in close and placed the flat disc above her heart. “Just breathe normal.”

  Yeah, like anything in her life had been normal for the past hour. Breathing had been a crapshoot since she’d landed on the coffee table. Next to him, it was twice as hard.

  He shifted and slid the disc under the back of her tank. “Take a deep breath.”

  She shook her head. “It hurts.”

  His hand at her shoulder squeezed in a comforting grip. “Just do your best.”

  Her best wasn’t much and sent
a fresh wave of discomfort coursing through her torso.

  Stepping back, he dropped the stethoscope around his neck, trailed his gaze along her shoulders and arms, and frowned. “You cold?”

  More like strung out on sensory overload and in desperate need of a beer. “A little.”

  He snatched her flannel off the bed and held it out so she could slide it on without too much torque on her ribs. When he’d helped guide the edges up and over her shoulders, he turned her to face the end of the bed, sat on the edge so he was on eye level with her, and loosely clasped his hands between his wide legs. “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure you’ve got two, maybe three, cracked ribs. If that’s the case, treatment is minimal and easy for you to handle on your own. The problem is, I’m worried about your breathing. Broken ribs on their own aren’t a huge issue, but if they puncture a lung it can cause problems fast.”

  Danny edged in closer to her and smoothed his hand down her back. “How do we know if that’s a problem?”

  “I need an X-ray.”

  “No hospitals.” She scowled up at Danny beside her. “I just got my bills paid off, and I’m not racking up more if I can take care of it on my own.”

  “I said you could take care of the ribs on your own,” Zeke said. “Lungs are a whole different matter. We’re talking the difference between you having a few weeks of rough sleep, versus you not waking up.” He zeroed in on Danny. “She needs an X-ray.”

  Danny stepped back and motioned to the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “No.”

  “Gabe, don’t be a dumb ass,” Danny said. “It’s an X-ray, not a fucking transplant.”

  “Yeah, well, the last time we walked into a hospital, Dad never came back out.” She clamped her lips up tight and averted her face. Great. Now she was a loon and a wimp.

  Warmth and the delicious pressure of Zeke’s fingers encircled her wrist. “What if I told you there’s a place I can take you and it won’t cost you a dime? A standalone place without a ton of people.”