Page 19 of Serve ’N’ Protect

The rest of their meal passed in relative silence. Every now and then she caught Markus looking at her, as if expecting her to launch into another monologue. Thinking about Hugh had pretty much sucked the life out of her.

By the time they were done, Markus’s eyelids were drooping and no wonder. It was nearly eight o’clock.

“Would you like me to take Ghost out for you?” she asked, carrying their plates to the sink.

“No, thanks.” He stood cautiously then unlocked the kitchen door to the backyard. Ghost scrambled up and shot out the door.

“You’re not worried about him out there all alone?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Right, I keep forgetting.” She scraped off their plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. “He’s a cop, too.”

She expected a one-word quip in response, but when she glanced over her shoulder, Markus had sat down again, his eyes closed. “As soon as Ghost is back, you’re going straight to bed.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She laughed softly. “I can see you don’t like being taken care of.”

“That’s not in my genetic makeup, either.”

Scratching came from outside the door, and she could make out the tips of Ghost’s ears through the glass panel. “I’ll get him.”

Minutes later, she followed Markus up the stairs. Ghost walked close beside him, periodically glancing up. Now that she knew he’d been a service dog, Cassidy understood the source of his attentive behavior. That, and it was obvious how much Ghost loved his partner.

Between Markus’s injury and her cane, it took a while before they hit the landing on the second floor. The back of his shirt had a damp spot, and she couldn’t be sure if it was perspiration from the exertion of climbing the stairs or blood.

“I’m going to look at your stitches before you lie down. You might have torn one of them.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m on the clock, and that’s what I’m getting paid for. Besides, Captain McMurray will have my head if I don’t.”

“You’re probably right.” Markus looked at her over his shoulder. “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

She uttered a dismissive sound as she followed him and Ghost down the hall. “After all the deep cuts and abrasions I had from the accident, not much makes me squeamish anymore. Besides, I already saw your injuries.” And they’d scared her to death. Not because of the blood. Because they’d come from a knife.

At the end of the hall, he turned right into a bedroom and flipped on the lights. Against one wall was a king-size bed with a tufted brown headboard. At the foot of the bed and sitting on the brown duvet was a folded cream-colored blanket. Two large bureaus sat against the side walls, while two bedside tables flanked the bed. On the nearest table sat a holstered handgun, similar to the one Matt had worn on his belt. To complete the homey ensemble, a giant flat-screen TV took up a big chunk of the wall opposite the bed.

Ghost sat on the rug next to Markus’s feet, watching as if he was waiting for a command to fetch something.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” she ordered, heading to the master bathroom for a clean towel. She flipped on the lights, momentarily awed by all the white marble and pretty beige crackle tile surrounding the shower and giant tub. After finding what she was looking for beneath the sink, she turned and was about to go back into the bedroom. Instead, she froze in the open doorway.

Markus had stripped off his shirt. Earlier, she’d been so consumed with getting him to the hospital that she hadn’t taken the time to look at him. Really look at him.

All those muscles she rightly assumed he had beneath his shirt rippled and bunched as he tossed the shirt onto the bed. That kind of body took years of discipline to achieve, let alone maintain. Once upon a time, she’d had that kind of discipline. The accident had pretty much obliterated both her willpower and her self-image.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Cassidy blinked. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” About the improbability that she’d ever be fit or feeling good about herself again. With a terrycloth towel draped over her shoulder, she clumped across the rug and sat beside Markus. “Let me look.”

Rather than unroll all the gauze wrapped around his waist, she gently tugged it aside, first examining the taped bandage on his back and searching for blood. As her fingers contacted his skin, he flinched. “Did I hurt you?”

His chest expanded as he inhaled. “No.”

Markus’s broad back glistened with perspiration, so she used the towel to wipe him dry. “So… Your job sounds pretty incredible. What’s it like working in the White House?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Like I said, I only patrol the outside.”