Page 13 of Striker
He tilted his head, silently asking for a yes or a no.
She nodded.
“One sec. I’ll get a cup.” He returned a minute later carrying a two-liter water bottle with its top sawed off. He threw down a folded towel and knelt again, then turned on the tap to fill the bottle with clean water.
She stared at the water surrounding her. It was murky and yellow-tinged. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
He placed his hand on her forehead, urging her to look up.
She did as instructed, letting him pour water over her head. She stayed like that as he gently worked shampoo over her hair.
His fingernails scrubbed her scalp, and she stifled a moan.
A sharp pain stabbed the side of her scalp and she jumped. “Ouch.”
He froze. “What happened?”
She lifted her fingers to the throbbing spot. “It’s okay. I just have a cut there.”
Pushing her hair aside, he gingerly felt around the spot. “It’s a goose egg with dried blood. When did you hit your head?” Concern filled his question. Was he worried it’d happened under his watch?
“I hit it on the wall yesterday—at least I think it was yesterday. I can’t remember.”
“Any headaches? Blurred vision?”
“Kinda.”
He harumphed. “I’ll be careful, but let me know if it hurts again.”
After lathering her strands, he rinsed out the suds. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the feel of his fingers. How someone so large could be so gentle was beyond her.
“How’d you hit your head on the wall?”
She shrank down an inch. She didn’t want to talk about how Rex and the guards had treated her. Wished she could forget. But if she wanted there to be justice, she’d have to give a statement at some point.
Atlas wasn’t a cop—at least she didn’t think so. And if she had to talk to anyone, she’d choose him. He had a nonthreatening way about him and, so far, hadn’t been pushy.
“R-Rex struck my face, and my head flung back against the wall.”
His fingers stilled.
She bit her bottom lip and pulled her arms tighter around her.
He applied conditioner then reached for the bottle again. “How do you know Rex?”
Water sluiced over her head. She tipped up her chin and let him glide his fingers over the strands. When they touched her lower back, heat spread to her loins.
Shame hit her. She shouldn’t be turned on right now. Could barely walk on her own two feet. But it wasn’t just about how attractive and strong this man in her space was. It was his gentle presence. The fact that his touch didn’t linger or pursue.
“You doin’ all right?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I don’t know him.” Her voice was small, barely a whisper. “I was leaving work one night and someone jumped me in the parking lot. Before I could scream, they injected me with something, and I woke up at that place in the jungle.”
He sat back, his angry, heightened gaze on her face. He wiped his hands on a towel but didn’t take his focus off her. “Injected you?”
She nodded, tilted her head to the side, and pointed at her neck. “Here. It happened a while ago, so I don’t know if there’s still a mark.”
His thumb brushed over her skin. “How long did he keep you there?”
