Page 32 of Fatal Mistake
“Yes, sir.” He stepped off.
Cal turned to Brynn. “FYI, we might be looking at Tannerite instead of Keeler’s usual C-4.”
“Interesting,” she said. “You think the shooter ignited it?”
“It’s seeming like a good possibility, so once Kaci is done, I want you to focus on locating a slug in the truck debris. And, of course, I’ll need you to test for Tannerite.”
Tara came to the door of the truck. She’d sustained scrapes and bruises, and her clothes were dirty and torn. Cal wasn’t worried so much about her physical injuries, as they were minor, but her defeated look had his concerns rising. Not concerns related to the investigation, but personal ones, and he should turn and walk away, far away, but he couldn’t leave her looking so broken without trying to help.
Chapter 11
Tara saw Cal looking her way, and she backed up to avoid his questioning gaze. She didn’t need him coming to check on her and adding the stress of fighting her attraction for him while still in a vulnerable state. She resumed pacing down the narrow aisle she’d prowled for an hour now. Back and forth, she walked, thankful Brynn had stepped out, leaving her alone. The air was steamy and thick and the walls closed in on her. She wanted to head outside for fresh air, but Cal had commanded her to remain in the truck for her own safety.
Her safety. Ha! What safety? She’d almost been shot, blown to bits in a bomb, and her heart couldn’t seem to gain a normal rhythm again. And even if she could get it under control, Cal storming into the truck earlier to bark orders at her added to her unease.
She paused near the driver’s seat, grabbed the rubber band on her wrist, and snapped. Once. Twice. Three, four times. The sting radiated up her arm. It didn’t help. She tried it again and again. Nothing. Maybe she’d moved beyond using the bands to contain her stress. Maybe she needed something different. Like more pacing.
She spun to resume her steps only to find Cal standing in the rear of the truck, his shoulder resting on a cabinet, his body cutting off the hint of sunlight that had been filtering through the opening.
His warm gaze settled on her face. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m doing okay.” She looked away before she let his concern warm her heart but not fast enough to miss seeing that the large gash on his forehead remained untreated. She was trained in first aid and could do something about his injury instead of standing idly by and giving her time to wonder about how he could affect her so much with one little look. To wonder anything about him.
“Your forehead.” She pushed past him. “I’ll grab the first aid kit and clean it up.”
“It’s nothing.”
She ignored him and reached for the kit she’d spotted by the back door.
“Sit, Cal.” She gestured at a bench and eyed him until he complied.
“You decided to call me Cal.” His expression remained neutral, his voice flat as he moved to the bench seat.
Of course, he didn’t give her even a hint of what he thought about it, so she didn’t bother to explain her reasoning.
He stretched out his long legs that didn’t fit under the tabletop. His thigh muscles strained the fabric of his khakis, and he’d opened a few shirt buttons, revealing a thickly muscled neck. Not that she was noticing. Okay, fine, she was, and her response to him unsettled her more.
He peered up at her, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Are you always this bossy?”
Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed her study. “Talk about taking one to know one.”
“So you think I’m bossy.”
She snorted, earning a chuckle from him, proving he had a sense of humor when she’d thought he was all business.
A flutter of nerves sent her senses reeling, so she ignored the resulting grin and turned her attention to the first aid kit. She dug out an antiseptic wipe and leaned over him. “This will probably sting.”
His response was more of a grunt than anything.
She carefully dabbed at the gaping wound, expecting him to flinch, but he didn’t move or even change his breathing. With an even in and out, his powerful chest rose and fell beneath her.
“I’m not a doctor,” she said, ignoring the fact that she’d underestimated his effect on her or she wouldn’t have chosen to get this close to him. “But this looks like it could use some stitches.”
He grabbed a butterfly bandage from the kit. “Put one of these on, and I’ll take care of stitching it up later.”
Shocked at his response, she met his gaze. “You’re telling me you plan to sew this up yourself?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
