Читать книгу Broken - Rebecca Zanetti - Страница 17

Chapter Nine

Wolfe kept his stance wide as Dana’s pupils widened and then contracted. Her curvy body settled in for a fight.

“Wolfe?” Mal said mildly, slumped in the chair, blood matting his left eyebrow. “You’re being an asshole.”

“I’m aware of that fact,” Wolfe returned, unable to move away from Dana. An invisible force kept him in place, his muscles tight, his chest heated. He didn’t like himself at the moment, and that regret could later join his constant guilt when he regained control. The fact that he’d gotten Mal shot was yet more proof that everyone around him was in danger, and that definitely included the angry journalist trying to stare him down.

Her nostrils widened and she reached for the bottom of his T-shirt, her gaze daring.

He began to step back, and she tightened her hold, the soft pads of her fingers brushing his bare abs. A jolt shot through him, and he may have growled.

She sucked in air and her delicate jaw tightened. She yanked him toward her with the cotton and pulled it up, giving him no choice but to duck his head so she didn’t choke him. Oh, the stubborn woman was asking for it. What, he had no clue—but everything in him wanted to give it to her.

The shirt came over his head, and then she gentled her movements, making a sound of distress as his wound was revealed.

The soft noise pummeled straight to his heart and he shut his eyes against an unwanted wave of warmth. As soon as he made sure she was safe, he had to distance himself. Completely, even though she was a good friend. Temptation was a killer.

Then she held a towel to his arm. Pain centered him, and he took a deep breath, opening his eyes to survey the wound. “The bullet cut along my bicep but didn’t go in.”

“You need stitches.” She gulped and then looked up. Her eyes were the color of a spring meadow against her suddenly pale skin. She wavered.

He grasped her arm just as Mal kicked out the adjacent chair, and then he settled her down. “You’re okay.” Sometimes he forgot that not everyone was accustomed to blood and bruises. “Honest. I’m fine.” After making sure she was steady in the chair, he glanced down at his arm, which ached but wasn’t that bad. “A couple of stitches should do it.” He didn’t even need Mal’s help with that. “First, are you sure you don’t want to go to the doc, West?”

Mal nodded. “Just stitch me up, slap a bandage on me, and I’ll tell Pippa it’s no big deal.”

Oh. He was worried about frightening Pippa. Of course. “Stitches are stitches, so what’s the problem?” Why not have a doctor do it?

Mal swallowed and the blood on his throat cracked. “There’s a difference between having to go to the hospital and just having you bandage it. She won’t worry this way.”

Man, Wolfe really didn’t understand women. “You’re messing with your pretty looks,” he warned.

“What’s one more scar on my face?” Mal sighed, his torso too wide for the quaint kitchen chair that had come with the house.

Wasn’t that the truth? Wolfe rolled his shoulders and tried to focus, when all he wanted to do was go for a long, hard run. He hadn’t given Pippa a thought when he’d reluctantly agreed to let Malcolm provide backup, and look what had happened. Steadying his hands, he reached for the stitching kit he’d put together in the first aid box, pausing to check on Dana’s color. Still pale. “You need to look the other way.”

She blinked, tried to argue, and then just turned to stare out the window.

Kat meowed and rubbed against Wolfe’s leg before jumping into Dana’s lap. Her smooth hands instantly started to pet him, and his purr filled the room.

As the kitten and the woman provided each other comfort, Wolfe painstakingly stitched up Mal’s skin on his forehead, trying to keep the ends as even as possible. Maybe the scar would be very small or even fade completely. His friend shut his eyes and breathed normally, his body relaxed the entire time. Finally, Wolfe spread antibacterial gel across the stitches and gingerly planted a bandage in place. “I did my best.” He stood back and made sure the bandage was even.

Mal stood, almost eye to eye with him. “I’m sure it’s perfect. Now let me stitch you—” He paused, swiveling back toward the sliding glass door.

A light footstep on his patio caught Wolfe’s attention. “Pippa’s coming.” He glanced at the bloody towels. “Go, now. I’ll take care of the mess.”

Mal paused for a second and then nodded, already moving to the door. “If you need me to stitch you up—”

“I don’t,” Wolfe interrupted. “A couple of stitches is nothing new.” Unfortunately, true words.

“Copy that.” Mal slipped outside, heading off Pippa, their voices quiet as they returned to their house. Wolfe shuddered. What had he been thinking to take Malcolm to that area of town?

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dana said, once again looking his way.

Sometimes he thought she could read minds. Nobody had ever seen him so clearly before, and that wasn’t a good thing. Her words were so blatantly wrong that Wolfe didn’t bother replying. Instead, he took Mal’s vacated seat and reached for another clean needle.

Dana audibly swallowed. “I can do that if you want.”

The woman would probably pass out. “That’s okay. Not my first time.” He took a lot less care with his skin than he had Mal’s, then slapped on a bandage and faced Dana. “The men in the truck were after you, not me, and I think you should lie low until we figure out why.” Risking her wasn’t an option.

She blinked. “You’re giving me orders? After being shot at—again?”

He stiffened, his skin prickling. The world was closing in and he was losing control. That could not happen. “Did you not hear me? They were after you.”

“Then I’m getting close.” Her chin rose. “That’s a good thing.”

He took his time exhaling, trying to manage his emotions. From the second those bullets had crashed through the glass, and he’d realized he’d put another one of his team into danger, he’d been on edge. “You don’t want to argue with me today, sweetheart.” He gave her the full truth.

She stood and gathered the bloody towels. “The heck I don’t. Bring it on, Wolfe.” Her exit was stalled by her phone going off on the table. She sighed, lifted it up, and declined the call.

Oh, he was too close to losing it. Way too close. “Who keeps calling that you’re ignoring?” Focusing on this problem, for a moment, gave him a needed reprieve from the shit show his life had just become. “Dana?” He didn’t like the irritation in her eyes.

“Nobody.” She turned again, and the phone went off again.

Smoothly, he snaked out a hand and grabbed the phone from her. He was being an ass, but at this point, he just didn’t care. He pressed the speaker button and set the phone on the table.

Dana’s glare could melt concrete. “Hello?” she muttered.

“Dana. It’s about time you answered my calls.” The voice was male with what sounded like a Northern accent. Maine, probably.

She shook her head, her gaze leveling Wolfe. “I didn’t mean to answer. Stop calling me, and definitely stop calling my parents to find me. We’re done. Got it?”

Wolfe cocked his head. When he’d met Dana, she’d been home covering a story about river guides. Hadn’t somebody mentioned that she was just out of a relationship with a guy she never should’ve dated? Was this the guy? If so, he didn’t seem to be getting the hint.

The guy sighed loudly through the phone, raising Wolfe’s hackles. “Listen to me. I’m sorry about what happened, and I really would like to apologize in person. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven, Mike,” she said, shuffling the bloody towels to her other arm.

Wolfe sat back and crossed his arms. It was that easy? What the heck was happening, and what did good ol’ Mike do in the first place?

Even Mike seemed taken aback. “Well, okay. Thanks, then. When can we get together?”

Dana drew air in through her nose. “Never. You’re forgiven and all of that, but I’m not going back. So please move on and stop calling me.”

“Now that’s just silly,” Mike said, his voice turning charming. “I’m going to be at Sally’s wedding next weekend, and she wouldn’t have invited me if there wasn’t still a chance for us. Maybe I can finally meet your parents.”

Pink bloomed across Dana’s cheekbones. “Sally invited you because she doesn’t like me but loves drama. Don’t come.” At Wolfe’s raised eyebrows, her own rose. “Or come, if you want, but you have to know that I’m going to be busy and have no intention of going out with you again. Though I do wish you well.” The last was said on a rush.

Mike’s chuckle was like bone scraping bone. “Come on, Dana. You have to at least save me a dance.”

“No, she really doesn’t,” Wolfe said quietly. “Believe me. Her date won’t like it.”

Dana’s lips snapped together, and she whirled on him. “You just couldn’t be quiet, could you? Everything was going fine, and I was handling it, but you just couldn’t sit there.”

“Sorry,” Wolfe said, totally not sorry.

“Why do you do that?” She waved her free hand through the air. “You act like a boyfriend, but you’re not. You try to take over, but you know you shouldn’t.” The pink in her face blossomed into a lovely rose.

Wolfe uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, his own temper still barely banked. “I’m acting like a friend who doesn’t appreciate this asshat bugging you. Apparently, your attempts to ignore him haven’t worked, and I feel like taking a different tack. It’s a free world, you know.”

She sucked in air, her eyes widening. “My world is my world, and when I want your help, I’ll freakin’ ask for it.” Anger turned her stunning eyes a fascinating emerald.

“Um, excuse me?” Mike snapped through the phone line. “Who the hell is this?”

Wolfe and Dana both turned toward the phone on the table. Wolfe had forgotten the jerk for a moment. “Name is Wolfe and I’ll be Dana’s date for the wedding.” He knew he was pushing it, but no way would he leave Dana alone to fend off this guy. Plus, food at weddings was usually delicious and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for cake.

Dana sucked in air. “You’re crazy.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “Head injury makes a good excuse.”

Mike cleared his throat. “Uh, Dana? Are you in danger there with a guy with a head injury who thinks he’s a wolf? Should I call the police?”

Dana rolled her eyes so hard she had to have seen part of her brain. “I am not in danger and, yes, this guy is nuts, and frankly I believe he might be more wolf than man.” She tossed the bloody towels onto the table and lifted her chin. “I have not asked you to be my date.”

Wolfe stood then, gratified when she took a step back. “You don’t think I could get you to ask me?” His voice was grittier than he liked.

She visibly swallowed, tilting her head to meet his gaze. She was a good five-foot-eight, but he was over six-six, so there wasn’t much else the pretty woman could do. Except reach over and disengage the call, cutting Mike out of the equation completely. “If we’re going to have this fight, I don’t need a witness.”

“I like cake,” Wolfe returned.

Her chin lowered. “Don’t try to be cute with me, Clarence.”

He barely kept from wincing. The world had gotten way too out of control, and he couldn’t escape the sense of panic he’d felt when Malcolm had been injured. It had been Wolfe’s fault. Besides that, Dana’s orange blossom scent was too tempting in the small kitchen. “Okay. I need some alone time, and then we can argue about where you’re staying the night tonight.” Without waiting for a response, he strode into his office and shut the door, facing his whiteboard.

The dead stared back at him.