Midnight Pursuits by Elle Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page B

restlessly on the blood-and-sweat-soaked mattress, batting at his hands as he tried to remove her shirt.
    â€œHey,” he said gruffly, “hey, it’s me. It’s Ethan.”
    She didn’t respond. Just kept fighting him, even as her eyes stayed closed and her fists were too weak to connect with anything solid.
    Pinning her arms down took no effort at all, but made it difficult to get her out of the shirt. A minute later, he finally succeeded in ridding her of the garment, only to discover that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
    His stint in the Marines made it easy to act like a soldier rather than a red-blooded man. Ignoring her nude state, Ethan effortlessly lifted Juliet into his arms. She’d stopped struggling, her slender body limp and motionless as he carried her to the bathroom and lowered her into the tub. Once her body was submerged, he soaked a hand towel in the water and ran it over her forehead to cool her face.
    He kept her in the bathtub for almost a half hour, his knees digging into the uncomfortable linoleum floor as he stayed at her side, running the cloth over her face. The water and antibiotics must have done the trick, because he could see the flush leaving her olive-colored cheeks, feel her skin getting cooler beneath his touch.
    When he was satisfied that the fever had lowered, albeit slightly, he left her in the tub and went to the closet by the door, where he grabbed a fresh set of linens and proceeded to strip the bed of the bloody sheets and bedspread.
    A few minutes later, he deposited Juliet between the clean sheets and covered her with the thin blanket he found in the bottom drawer of the pine dresser.
    She didn’t rouse the entire time, but he wasn’t worried about her state of unconsciousness. She needed rest, first and foremost, while her immune system battled the infection.
    Fuck, he needed rest too, he realized when he felt his eyelids drooping. Sighing, he unzipped his parka and tossed it on one of the two armchairs by the curtained window. He removed the shoulder holster that housed his twin Sig Sauer pistols, but held on to the Glock that had been tucked in the waistband of his cargo pants. As he sank into the second armchair, he caught sight of a black duffel bag sticking out from beneath the bed. Juliet’s gear. Val had already checked it out, commenting that the woman traveled with a shit ton of firepower.
    As an afterthought, Ethan quickly got up and dragged the bag over to his feet. Just in case Juliet came to, forgot who he was, and decided to surprise him with a bullet to the chest. He made a mental note to peek at the contents of the bag later, but first, he had to get some sleep.
    He needed to be firing on all cylinders when Juliet woke up. He got the feeling men underestimated her, too dazzled by her gorgeous face and delectable figure, but Ethan knew that even injured, Juliet Mason posed a serious threat. He had no intention of letting her weakened condition lull him into a false state of security.
    Which was why he kept a tight grip on his Glock even as he drifted into much-needed slumber.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Juliet opened her eyes to find a very familiar man sleeping in the chair across the room. She squinted, blinked, tried to orient herself. Tried to make sense of why Jim Morgan’s man was in her hotel suite.
    Where the hell was Isabel? Now that the fog was slowly lifting from her brain, she remembered the SOS call she’d made to her colleague, but she couldn’t recall whether she’d actually spoken to the blond chameleon. No. No, she hadn’t. She’d spoken to . . . Ethan Hayes.
    Goddamn it.
    Why had he come?
    And why was he pointing a gun at her?
    Okay, it wasn’t pointed
at
her. The sleek gray weapon was resting on his thigh, with his right hand casually draped over it. But he was armed nonetheless, which kind of irked her.
    She swallowed repeatedly, hoping to bring moisture to her