Page 4 of No Lies No Promises

“Okay, listen carefully.” The operator remains calm, as if she’s done this thousands of times before. “Is there a tourniquet in your first-aid kit, the car, anywhere?”

Sure, lady, I never leave home without one. “That’s a negative.”

“Then we're going to make one. Tear off a wide strip of fabric. A shirt will do. Wrap it high around his thigh, above the wound. Find something rigid, a stick, screwdriver, anything you can twist. Tighten it until the bleeding stops. Even though it hurts, don't loosen it. Help is on the way.”

“Okay. I’m setting the phone down now.” After looking around for a clean, dry spot and finding none, I tuck the device into my bra, then pull off my top.

Black grime streaks Sean's face, but he still manages a grin. His eyes immediately settle on my tits, pointing through the thin fabric.

Men.

My eyes roll as Sean reaches for the blade in his ankle sheath. After I cut off a thick piece of cotton, he uses it to twist the improvised tourniquet.

Tears of relief mix with the rain—the same rain that hisses and steams when it strikes the burning vehicles on the road over our heads.

Holy shit. We almost ended up as charred hamburger meat.

When another explosion lights up the sky, I rethink the possibility of leaving the swamp.

Volume closer to normal, free hand cupping my cheek, his lips brush across mine. “At least my holiday balls are intact.”

“Don’t make me laugh, you idiot.” Unfortunately, once the giggles start, they turn a bit hysterical.

Entirely not my fault.

His gaze softens. “Listen, Lil, you need to know. I never saw her before in my life.”

“Doesn't matter.” Nearly believing his claim, sobbing while sitting in raw sewage, I hiccup and wipe a filthy arm beneath my runny nose.

“It does. I don't want you thinking I hooked up with someone else last December. I didn't. I wouldn't.” He sounds so sincere, but there is no way the suicidal truck-driver lady could've known about the holiday balls, unless he'd shared our joke.

“Babe, you don't have to lie. I get it.” I am so not having this argument, especially in a smelly trench after almost dying.

Sean groans, pushing himself upright. “I’m not lying.”

The 911 operator, whom I'd completely forgotten about, speaks from somewhere between my boobs. “Police are two minutes out… By the way, my vote is with him.”

Of course it is.

Muting her, I narrow my gaze at the man who says he’s ready to settle down. “So, you're telling me you've never had two one-night stands in a row?”

My partner blinks. “That's your question?”

“Be careful. You're hurt, and I'm topless. Neither one of us is at our best.”

The Marine veteran chuckles. “You ruined me, sweetheart. Only you and me forever.”

I want to trust him, I do. But jeesh, a woman committed suicide because he rejected her. That’s huge.

As welcoming sirens sound in the distance, my pocket vibrates. I can't believe my wet cellphone still works.

Wiping my hand on a tuft of grass, I read the text.

Jeff: Meet me for breakfast. I have something I want you to see.

Before I can delete it, Sean snatches the phone and shouts, “What the fuck? Are you cheating on me with Pearson?”

I glare bullets at him. “You've lost a lot of blood, so I'm going to let your question slide.”