“Do you know anyone who is?”
A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he carefully guided her to her feet. “No I can’t say that I do.” He led her over to the sink. “But let’s get it cleaned up first, and then decide our next course of action, yeah?”
Ellie’s jerky nod had Lucky reaching for the faucet. Careful not to hold her finger too close to the fresh wound, he held it beneath the running water to wash it clean. A moment later, the blood was gone, and the cut was clear to see.
“I think a regular band-aid will suffice,” he commented, noting the small slice that had been made in her delicate skin.
His expression was schooled, and his words and tone were kept casual but, on the inside, Lucky was fighting a war within himself. A battle he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand. But as he shut off the water and began drying her finger with a clean paper towel, it hit him.
It was her. It was Ellie. Something about seeing this woman hurt—inanyway—sent him into a tailspin of unexplainable anger.
She should never hurt. She should never know pain.
“The band-aids are in the upper cabinet to your left,” Ellie’s feminine voice filled the otherwise silent room.
A moment later, he was securing the small strip around the tip of her index finger. Doing his best not to notice how incredible soft…and right…her hand felt beneath his touch, Lucky brought his focus back up to her.
He held Ellie’s blue gaze while absentmindedly brushing his thumb over the bandage. “There,” he rumbled low. “All done.”
“Thanks,” she whispered back. And yet…she didn’t pull away.
“Listen, El. I know I’m not Cassie, but I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
“I appreciate the offer, Lucky.” Her tongue swipe across her bottom lip. “But I’m not really in the talking mood.”
“Whatareyou in the mood for?”
He knew what his answer would be. Unfortunately for him, that was never going to happen.
“I don’t know.” Ellie shook her head slowly. “I guess I’m just starting to think this is all a waste of everyone’s time. I mean, you’ve been playing bodyguard for what…four days, now? And not a single thing has happened to me. Not that I’m complaining about that. It’s just—”
“I get it.” He really did.
It was true, there’d been no more attempts made on Ellie’s life. There also hadn’t been any notes or pictures left for her like before. But Lucky knew better than most how cunning…andpatient…some killers could be.
“I just feel like the walls are closing in, you know? Harvey and whoever took those shots at me are out there running loose, butI’mthe one being kept prisoner. I mean, it’s been days, Lucky. And nothing’s happened.” Guilt filled her pretty, tortured eyes as she added, “And I know how ungrateful I sound. Especially when I’m still alive while so many others aren’t. I don’t know, I guess I’m just...”
With an almost defeated sigh, she shook her head and lowered her gaze. The sight tore at his heartstrings—something that, until now, he didn’t even realize he possessed—and suddenly, Lucky felt compelled to do whatever he could to ease her obvious sense of despair.
Since kissing her senseless was out of the question, he came up with another idea.
“How do you feel about dancing?”
“Dancing?” Ellie blinked.
From the confused look on her face, it was clear the unexpected question had taken her completely off guard.
“Yeah, you know…a little bump and grind here…” He gave a small sway of his hips. “A little shakin’ your groove thing there…” Another sway. “In fact, I bet if you tried hard enough, you could even put your hands in the air and wave ’em around like you just don’t care.”
Ellie barked out a laugh, the jovial sound appearing to have surprised her as much as it had him.
“Um…” Ellie’s dark brows furrowed in the center even as she continued to grin. “I mean, I like dancing.” A tiny shrug. “But what does that have to do with—”
“In my experience, there are two sure-fire ways to reduce stress and put you in a better mood. One of those is dancing.”
“And the other?”
Shit. You really should’ve thought this one through.