You’re hurt. Gabriel, where is it? Where are you hurt?” His silence unnerved her. Jessica felt around his body, but she couldn’t find anything that could have weakened him so much--unless it was something internal. The thought galvanized her. “We have to get you to a hospital.”
“No,” he said and pushed away from her.
“Yes.”
“No,” he said emphatically. “You can ... take me ... home.”
He sounded like he was just before passing out. She couldn’t blame him. He’d run off three men nearly as big as he was, and from the sound of them, they’d been insane. She didn’t have time to be impressed. They had to leave before the thugs had a chance to come back. “I’ll take you home. But first we have to catch a cab or something.”
“My car is out front,” he said, and leaned into her for support.
Jessica stood under his arm and they hobbled their way to his car--an old Camaro, its color indistinguishable in the faded dark.
She followed his directions, and he fell asleep as she drove up the Ponchartrain Expressway, getting off once they’d passed the fair grounds. A wooded area came into view, and she stopped at the first house as he’d instructed: a sprawling two story Victorian with a gazebo and porch swing on one end, interconnected with the porch curving around the house.
Jessica didn’t stop to admire the house, pulling the Camaro onto the lawn along a roughened patch of dirt until she neared the front entrance. She stopped the car and switched it off, giving Gabriel a concerned glance before she got up and went around to help him.
He came awake as she opened the door and got out on his own, but Jessica fussed and continued to help him walk. It was just like a man to try and be macho about serious injuries. She didn’t know about his, but she wasn’t about to take any more chances than he was already forcing her to take.
The front door was unlocked, which she found oddly trusting considering the state of this day and age, but she pushed it open and went through. A long, wide hallway shot straight through, past the narrow staircase, to the back door, and large rooms parted off from each side.
“Dere’s d’livin’ room,” Gabriel said, pointing to the right tiredly.
Jessica shuffled to it, feeling on the wall for the light switch. She found it easily enough, flipped the lights on, and guided him onto a worn, leather couch facing an old TV. He collapsed on it, closing his eyes and throwing an arm above his head. He was wearing the same basic outfit she’d seen him in before: Jeans and no shoes or a shirt. Blood smeared his chest and throat, and she knew she had to clean him off to properly to assess the situation.
Jessica left, in search of a bathroom or a kitchen. She found the kitchen in the back of the house on the left. A small cupboard above the sink revealed clean dish rags, and she pulled several out and wet them before returning to Gabriel.
She stopped in the doorway, watching him a breathless moment as she waited to see the rise and fall of his chest. Breathing a silent thanks, she went in and dropped onto the hardwood floor on her knees, leaning over his chest as she slowly wiped the blood away.
There were no wounds anywhere, not even the beginnings of bruises. She kept wiping at him until she’d cleaned his chest, then moved up to his throat and face.
Gabriel slept through her ministrations. Still, she found nothing, no wounds to explain his weariness. She changed rags and cleaned his arms and hands. His knuckles were only slightly reddened, when she’d expected to at least find them split open. She frowned down at him, wondering how he could be unscathed after a fight like that.
Some residual blood clung to a patch of skin bared by a rip in his jeans, and Jessica wiped it away, flushing as she realized how close she was to his groin. She looked back at his face to see if he’d woken up, and nearly choked when she saw him watching her with a hungry look to his
“No,” he said and pushed away from her.
“Yes.”
“No,” he said emphatically. “You can ... take me ... home.”
He sounded like he was just before passing out. She couldn’t blame him. He’d run off three men nearly as big as he was, and from the sound of them, they’d been insane. She didn’t have time to be impressed. They had to leave before the thugs had a chance to come back. “I’ll take you home. But first we have to catch a cab or something.”
“My car is out front,” he said, and leaned into her for support.
Jessica stood under his arm and they hobbled their way to his car--an old Camaro, its color indistinguishable in the faded dark.
She followed his directions, and he fell asleep as she drove up the Ponchartrain Expressway, getting off once they’d passed the fair grounds. A wooded area came into view, and she stopped at the first house as he’d instructed: a sprawling two story Victorian with a gazebo and porch swing on one end, interconnected with the porch curving around the house.
Jessica didn’t stop to admire the house, pulling the Camaro onto the lawn along a roughened patch of dirt until she neared the front entrance. She stopped the car and switched it off, giving Gabriel a concerned glance before she got up and went around to help him.
He came awake as she opened the door and got out on his own, but Jessica fussed and continued to help him walk. It was just like a man to try and be macho about serious injuries. She didn’t know about his, but she wasn’t about to take any more chances than he was already forcing her to take.
The front door was unlocked, which she found oddly trusting considering the state of this day and age, but she pushed it open and went through. A long, wide hallway shot straight through, past the narrow staircase, to the back door, and large rooms parted off from each side.
“Dere’s d’livin’ room,” Gabriel said, pointing to the right tiredly.
Jessica shuffled to it, feeling on the wall for the light switch. She found it easily enough, flipped the lights on, and guided him onto a worn, leather couch facing an old TV. He collapsed on it, closing his eyes and throwing an arm above his head. He was wearing the same basic outfit she’d seen him in before: Jeans and no shoes or a shirt. Blood smeared his chest and throat, and she knew she had to clean him off to properly to assess the situation.
Jessica left, in search of a bathroom or a kitchen. She found the kitchen in the back of the house on the left. A small cupboard above the sink revealed clean dish rags, and she pulled several out and wet them before returning to Gabriel.
She stopped in the doorway, watching him a breathless moment as she waited to see the rise and fall of his chest. Breathing a silent thanks, she went in and dropped onto the hardwood floor on her knees, leaning over his chest as she slowly wiped the blood away.
There were no wounds anywhere, not even the beginnings of bruises. She kept wiping at him until she’d cleaned his chest, then moved up to his throat and face.
Gabriel slept through her ministrations. Still, she found nothing, no wounds to explain his weariness. She changed rags and cleaned his arms and hands. His knuckles were only slightly reddened, when she’d expected to at least find them split open. She frowned down at him, wondering how he could be unscathed after a fight like that.
Some residual blood clung to a patch of skin bared by a rip in his jeans, and Jessica wiped it away, flushing as she realized how close she was to his groin. She looked back at his face to see if he’d woken up, and nearly choked when she saw him watching her with a hungry look to his
Similar Books
