Shirlee McCoy - Defender for Hire

Now, it just felt like another pit stop.

“I didn’t say he was a serial killer. I said he was trouble,” Dana protested, glancing over her shoulder again. Obviously, the guy had her spooked, but Tessa had dealt with a lot worse than troublesome patients in her life.

“I’ll holler if I need help,” she joked as she walked down the narrow hall.

Her smile fell away as soon as she was out of Dana’s sight. She didn’t feel like joking. She felt like going home, packing her things and leaving town. She was tired of moving, though. Too many places, too many faces, all of it fuzzy and muddied by her constant need to outrun the past.

She wanted to put down roots, but maybe that dream—the one she’d been holding on to since her parents had passed away when she was ten—had died with Daniel.

She knocked on the door to room one, pushing it open without waiting for a response.

“Good morning—” She glanced at the chart as she stepped into the room. “Seth. I’m Tessa Camry.”

“Ma’am.” One gruff word, tinged with a hint of Southern charm.

She looked up from the chart into the most amazingly blue eyes she’d ever seen.

Seth’s face didn’t match his voice. There was no charm there, not even a hint of a smile. Just dark blond hair, those blue, blue eyes and a faint scar that ran from his ear to under his chin. Another scar edged his hairline, deep purple and much newer than the first one.

Dana had been right. He looked like trouble, but Tessa couldn’t pinpoint why. Aside from the scars and the unusual color of his eyes, he was average—average build, average features, nondescript hair. Better than average muscle tone, though. She could see that in the corded strength of his shoulders and biceps.

She looked at the chart again. Better to focus on that than her new patient’s bulging muscles.

“You’re a friend of Darius’s, right?” she asked, hoping she’d get more out of him than another ma’am.

“We’re coworkers,” he explained.

“So, you’re in the private security sector?” She met his eyes and was shocked again by the vivid color of his irises.

“That’s right.”

“You work as a bodyguard?”

“I work as whatever my boss asks me to be. Until my shoulder heals, that’s desk duty.”

He didn’t smile, but she had the distinct impression that he was amused—by her or the conversation or whatever situation had put him on desk duty.

She took a seat in one of two chairs next to the exam table and motioned for him to do the same. “I take it you’d like to get back to a more active job. Let’s come up with a plan to make that happen.”

“The sooner the better,” he murmured, dropping into the other chair, his legs stretched out so that his feet were almost touching Tessa’s.

She didn’t shift away, but she wanted to. At first glance, she’d thought Seth was average, but the more she studied him, the more obvious it became that he was anything but that.

Maybe Dana had been right. Maybe he was going to be trouble.

She frowned, thumbing through his paperwork and reading the information he’d provided. There wasn’t much. A shoulder injury that had required extensive surgery and therapy. A concussion. He’d marked a level seven pain in the affected shoulder and shaded a pain-point indicator through the shoulder and up into the neck, but he hadn’t specified a cause for the injury.

“Were you in a car accident?” she asked, glancing up and straight into his eyes. Blue flecked with silver and rimmed with thick gold lashes.

“No.”

“Sports injury?”

“No.”

“I could spend the rest of the day guessing, or you could just tell me what happened and save us both some time.”

He smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes.

“You know, Tessa, I think we’re going to get along just fine,” he said, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “Here’s the deal. I was in Afghanistan. My convoy was attacked and my shoulder got blown to bits. I came back to the States, had surgery and then rehabbed for a year.”

“How long ago was that?” Tessa asked, making a production of taking notes because she didn’t want to look in his eyes again. He was way more than she’d thought when she’d first seen him. Way more...interesting. Today of all days, she didn’t want to notice.

Shouldn’t notice.

“The first injury? Two years ago. I completed rehab a year ago and started working for Personal Securities Incorporated six months after that.”

“When did the reinjury occur?”

“A couple of weeks ago. One of my clients was attacked, and I stepped in.” He shrugged as if it hadn’t been a big deal, but Tessa had a feeling it had.

“Did you have an X-ray or MRI?”

“Both. Everything is clear. My doctor thinks it’s just pulled muscles and inflammation from old scar tissue.”

“Let’s check your range of motion. Go ahead and sit on the table.”

He nodded, moving silently and easily, his white T-shirt skimming firm muscles and a flat abdomen. He wore black gym shorts and running shoes, and his left knee was crisscrossed with scars and swollen above the patella.

“Looks like your knee is bothering you, too.”

“If we tried to fix all my problems, we’d be here for the rest of the day. How about we just concentrate on the shoulder?” His tone was easy, but there was an edge of steel in it.

“It’s all connected. If one thing is out of alignment, the rest of the body suffers.” She put a hand on his elbow, maneuvering his arm in the damaged socket. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes.” He didn’t wince, though, and there was no hint of pain in his voice or eyes.

“Mind if I take a look at the surgery scar?” She rolled up his sleeve, but could see only the edge of the scar, still deep purple and angry-looking.

“This doesn’t look two years old.”

“I’ve had two surgeries since the first one.”

“You should have mentioned that before we started.” She frowned and jotted a note in his file. “When was the last surgery?”

“Eight months ago.”

“Your surgeon?”

“Guy on the East Coast.” He offered the name, and she jotted that down, too.

“Okay. Let’s work through a few exercises, see how far we can push things without making them worse.”

“Sounds good.” He flashed a smile.

Despite the quick grin, Tessa had the feeling that Seth was assessing her. Whatever conclusions he was coming to, he kept them well hidden as she worked him through a series of exercises.

Thirty minutes later, sweat beaded his brow and his muscles were taut with effort, but he didn’t say a word about pain or discomfort. He seemed determined to push through whatever he was feeling.

“That’s good.” Tessa put a hand on his arm, stopping him before he could begin another rep. “We don’t want to overstress the joint or cause more pain than you’re already in.”

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re not. You’re pushing too hard. That’s only going to lengthen the recovery process. Lie down.” She patted the exam table. “I’ll have Dana come in and start some heat and stimulation while I print out exercises you can do at home.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?” Seth asked, standing up and stretching despite her instructions.

His question surprised a laugh out of her.

“More than one person. I took it as a compliment every time.”

“This should be an interesting relationship, then.” He used the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow and, without a smile, aimed his blue eyes straight at her. “I need to run. We can try heat and stim next time.”

She didn’t argue. Seth had to make the commitment to his recovery, and he had to be the one to follow through on it. “That’s fine. I’ll want to see you twice a week for at least a month. Why don’t you set that up with Dana? I’ll print out the exercises and meet you up front.”