appeared even darker than when he’d first put it on. But the blood on it had dried. So had the blood on her head and face, though it didn’t hide the multiple bruises where her cousin had repeatedly punched her. She winced a few times in her sleep but that was the only sign she was in any pain.
When they reached the house and Zé was about to carry Max inside, she suddenly sat up, eyes blinking the sleep away.
“Are we home?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
The driver opened the door and Max immediately got out without needing Zé’s help. As she stood in front of the house, waiting for him, she tilted her head one way, then the other. Each time a sound like a shot went off and Zé gazed at her, half-in and half-out of the limo.
“Was that you?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, the dried blood crinkling.
Max started toward the house and Zé followed her inside, where she walked straight to the kitchen. By the time Zé joined her, she stood in front of the sink with the water running.
He waited off to the side, ready to help when she needed it, and watched her remove the T-shirt on her arm. She handed it to him and slipped her arm under the faucet, letting the water beat down on the skin. Zé cringed, imagining the pain she was feeling. Until the blood washed away and he saw there was no more than a raised scar on each side of her arm.
“It’s still healing,” she explained when she saw him staring. “On the inside. The scar will fade some over the next few days, though.”
With the blood on her arm gone, she stuck her head under the running water. When she’d washed the blood off, she wrung her wet hair out and finger-combed it off her face.
“How do I look?” she asked when she was finally done. Somehow, she was grinning. He didn’t understand how she could be grinning.
“Not as horrifying as I would expect.”
He motioned to the kitchen table. “Sit up here. I’ll put something on the other wounds.”
There was a first-aid kit under the kitchen counter. He pulled it out, opened it, but ended up doing nothing but gawking into it for a few seconds.
“What’s wrong?” she finally asked.
“Did you know your sister put several knives in here?”
“That was me. In case we’re ever held hostage. I figure if they need to keep us alive, they’ll probably let one of us use the first-aid kit.”
Zé was about to ask why she would plan for such an event. Why she would even think like that.
Then he remembered how he’d met her . . .
Zé dug under the tactical knives—there were three—and pulled out some bandages, alcohol swabs, and a cold pack for the swelling. He placed them on the kitchen table next to Max’s leg and moved so he stood right in front of her. Using his forefinger, he lifted her chin so he could examine the wounds on her face. But she was staring at him in that way again.
“You’ve gotta stop,” he said, attempting to avoid her gaze.
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me that way. I’m trying to take care of you here.”
She placed her hands on his hips and pulled him closer, spreading her knees so he could press up against the table. And her.
“Now you’re torturing me?” he asked.
“Don’t mean to.”
“Liar.”
Her hands slid under his T-shirt, dragging her fingers against the skin.
“You want me to stop?”
“I want you to get better.”
She frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
“You were beaten by your own cousin tonight. Remember?”
“That was, like, an hour ago.”
The sentence was so ridiculous Zé could do nothing but laugh. But then Max pulled him closer and lifted her face to his.
He knew they should wait another day or two. More time for her to recover.
Max wasn’t waiting, though.
* * *
Max appreciated that Zé was trying to give her some time. And, if she were anyone else, she’d probably need it.
It wasn’t what she wanted, though. She was tired of waiting. She was tired of being interrupted. So she did the only thing she could think of.
She grabbed his dick.
It was through his jeans but she knew that wouldn’t matter. And she was right. He was already hard. So her hand on his dick made him groan; his eyes closed, head dropping forward.
“This isn’t fair,” he growled.
“I never promised I’d be fair,” she replied, tightening her grip. “I don’t want fair, Zé. I want