Nightingale by Jennifer Estep Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’t need to shoot a crossbow bolt through the bathroom wall—or into my foot. I set the weapon down and continued with my superhero stripping.  
    I managed to peel Talon’s pants down his legs and almost wished I hadn’t when I realized he’d gone commando. But I needed to get him warm and cleaned up, and I didn’t think he’d appreciate me soaking his costume in water. Next came the shirt—part of which was stuck to Talon’s bloody shoulder. I tugged gently at first, trying to pry the leather off the crusty wound without causing him any more pain, but it wouldn’t come free. In the end, I had to yank the stiff, sticky fabric away from the bullet holes in the front and back of his body. The superhero let out a low groan, but didn’t wake up. Probably for the best.  
    I also pulled Talon’s toboggan off his head. I stared at his hair, a rich shade of chestnut shot through with maple highlights. He wore it short in the back and a bit fluffed out on top, or maybe that was because I’d yanked off his winter hat. For some reason, I’d always pictured Talon as more of a Nordic type, with shocking, white-blond locks and icy blue eyes to match.  
    I laid the toboggan with the rest of Talon’s clothes just outside the door so they wouldn’t get wet. The boots, pants, and weapons were fine, but the blood-soaked shirt was beyond help, especially with two bullet holes in the left shoulder.
    I turned back to the naked superhero in the tub, my gaze examining his body from head to toe. Yeah, I knew it was wrong, but I leered at him. Only a little. Piper would never forgive me if I didn’t. Believe me, Talon had plenty of assets to admire. Washboard abs, strong, corded arms, good pecs. I’d never believed in love at first sight. But lust? Certainly.
    In addition to the hard body, Talon had plenty of scars; small, slightly puckered holes I took to be old bullet wounds; thin slashes from knives, swords, or other sharp weapons; even a burn mark that looked like a triangle on his right shoulder. Other nicks and scrapes dotted his torso like weird white freckles.
    I traced my fingers over the triangle burn. Then, I laid my palm against his chest, right over his heart. Hot tingles surged up into my arm at the touch, and I sighed with pleasure. With my supersensitive skin, I was almost always cold, no matter how many layers I wore, but Talon radiated heat, even though he sat naked in my chilly porcelain tub. Good. That meant he wasn’t suffering from hypothermia as I’d feared, although I still needed to get him cleaned up.  
    I moved my hand, examining the superhero’s old wounds. I had some experience with first aid, having patched up numerous folks at my events. Kids mostly, who’d gotten too enthusiastic about their playing and ended up with bloody knees. But the more I looked at the scars, the more I realized Talon wasn’t just a G-man superhero. He was also a regular guy—one who’d gotten hurt more than once keeping others safe. One who was hurt right now. One who needed my help.
    So, I quit leering. I turned on the tap, wincing as the faucets squeaked, and let the water get warm before stopping up the tub. I also put some Epsom salts into the mix. They always helped me relax after a long day at the office. Maybe they’d help Talon too—and hopefully drown out the lingering stench of blood clinging to his skin.
    Now came the ultimate question—to remove the visor or not?
    I stared at the visor covering Talon’s eyes and most of his face. The cobalt lenses reminded me of a pair of wraparound aviator sunglasses more than anything else, although they were tall and wide. The design matched the bird on his suit, with its outstretched wings and claws. Right now, the visor was the only thing preserving Talon’s anonymity. I’d stripped everything else away.  
    Piper wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have yanked his visor off first thing to see who Talon really was. She would have done it before she even