Calculated in Death

look.”
    Now she smiled. “You just want to get me naked.”
    “My life’s work,” he said as he walked to her. He could see in her eyes it was more than “not very.” “As it is, I’ll tend to that myself.” He started to draw her sweater up and off, heard her hiss of pain.
    “Okay, ouch. Just a second.” She pressed her hand on her shoulder, trying to re-angle, decrease the twinge.
    She saw the change in his eyes, that flash of ice blue heat, and knew he thought—as she did—of McQueen.
    “The same shoulder?” he said gently.
    “It figures, doesn’t it? It’s—okay, it’s ouch, but mostly just sore.”
    “I’ll cut the sweater off.”
    “The hell you will. This is that cashmere stuff. And I like this sweater.”
    “Is that so?”
    “Yeah, that’s so. I can like a sweater. It’s soft, and it’s warm, and we’re not hacking it up. We’ll just go easy, okay?”
    “All right then.” Keeping his eyes trained on her face, he brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “Relax now, loosen up and relax, and let me do it.”
    She breathed, shut her eyes, let him carefully lift the wool. Not bad, not bad—shit, shit—okay, better.
    “See? No hacking, and—” She followed the direction of his gaze, looked down at herself and found herself mildly stunned by the bruising blooming across her chest above her tank.
    “Wow, colorful. I think the kid’s head plowed into me. He came at me like a mortar. Pow! Skull meets tits. Tits lose.”
    “Have a seat, let me get your boots off.”
    She did, watched him. His cool tone told her he was very, very angry, and much too worried. She could pin his response on her previous injuries. Not enough time between bouts, she decided. The only way she knew to offset his reaction was playing it light, playing it easy.
    “I like sexy undressing better than you thinking about tranq’ing me unconscious and hauling me to the health center undressing.”
    “I considered just that.”
    “Come on. What kind of reward is that for making a really excellent catch?”
    He met her eyes, and she saw him relax, just a little. “You’ve been hurt worse.”
    “That’s what I said—thought.”
    “Pants next.”
    She smiled again. She still hurt, but some of the aches and twinges were buried under a layer of cotton from the blocker. “I will if you will.”
    “It pains me to refuse such a generous offer.” He just unhooked her trousers, drew them off. “You’ve more bruises here and there.” He stroked his hands over the back of her head, carefully. Then relaxed a bit more when he found no knots or lumps. “But from watching the mini-vid all over the media, I’d say you’ve worse on your ass.”
    “It’s kind of numb right now, but yeah. Tits and ass took the brunt.”
    “Two of my favorite parts. Up you come.” He held her upright, and gently for a moment, brushing his lips over her temple.
    Just banged up, he told himself. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last.
    “Have you seen the vid?”
    “No. Kind of unnecessary as I was there.”
    “I think you need to see it.” Gently, he drew her support tank up, bit back a curse at the trail of bruises over her ribs. “Two seconds later, or if you’d misjudged the—I suppose I’ll say arc and velocity—that little boy would have more than some bruises.”
    “It was so damn fast. That fucker? The way he moved—speed, agility. He scooped the kid up with one hand, elbow-jabbed the father with the other arm, did a smooth half pivot, hurled. He’s played ball, Roarke. Serious ball at some point. And he’s strong. I figure the kid for a solid twenty-five pounds.”
    “Twenty-seven, according to the parents in an interview.”
    “Twenty-seven, and he hurled it like the kid weighed two. Some of that’s adrenaline, but it’s serious, solidly strong.”
    He’d slipped off her underwear and stood studying her ass.
    “What? How bad?” She craned her neck, tried to see for herself.
    “There’s one here that looks a bit like Africa, another that resembles Australia. Then there’s a small chain of islands.”
    “Great, I’ve got a world map on my ass.” She managed to turn, get a reasonable look in the mirror. “Jesus. It is a world map.”
    “You’ve not much meat back there.”
    “Are you complaining?”
    He traced his fingers over her, featherlight. “Only about its current state.”
    “It’ll be better when I soak it, and the rest of me in a hot jet tub.”
    “It’s ice you