wouldn't hurt her? "Not even a thorn like you. Now get up."
"Can't."
"You're pissing me off. You're really pissing me off."
She wrapped her arms around his leg, below the knee, and pressed her face to bare calf. "Don't yell at me." Her voice was a soft, pathetic whisper. "You're hurting my head."
His resolve crumpled. Acting or not, she'd gotten to him. He might even have to slay a few dragons for her. "Come on, sweet." It wasn't like him to throw words around, but the endearment just happened, just fell off his tongue as if it were something he said all the time. "Come on." Before, he'd grabbed her by the upper arms. This time he took one hand, then the other.
Sticky.
The palm of her right hand was sticky.
Blood.
She was hurt, and he'd been bullying her.
He bent and scooped her up, shifting her weight until he had a good hold, then strode in the direction of the house. Inside the kitchen, he maneuvered sideways, knocking the wall switch with his elbow, light falling full on her face.
Blood on her top.
He put her down. Where was she bleeding? He ran his fingers across her forehead, her neck. He looked up to find her staring at him.
Huge, dark, smudged eyes in an ashen face.
"Are we going to do it?"
He made a choking sound. "Not right now." He lifted one of her arms, then the other.
A gash. About four inches long, running from her wrist toward the bend in her arm. He looked up to find her watching him.
"Hello,” she said.
"Hi."
Her eyes went from his, to her arm, then back.
"You're bleeding," was his brilliant observation.
"Don't worry. I have excellent clotting properties." And then her eyelids fluttered closed.
Chapter 13
Everybody Hurts
Maxwell Fielding was staring at his reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink, struggling with the knot in his tie, when the phone in the hallway rang.
It turned out to be Eddie Berlin, a law unto himself.
Eddie was probably the only guy Max knew who wasn't a lot of hot air. Some guys might say they'd like to live all alone on an island, but Eddie did it. Hell, Eddie was the island.
Eddie got right to the point. "I need you to make a house call."
Max straightened from where he'd bent to answer the phone. "What's up?"
"Got your needle and thread handy?"
"I'm a shrink, not a surgeon."
"You've stitched people up."
Max would probably regret this. "So?" That question was an admission of the truth.
"I have somebody at my place who needs stitches.”
No way was Max getting involved in something like that. "Take him to the emergency room. That's what it's for."
"I can't." A pause. "You know that."
"Maybe this would be a good time to try."
"It's not. Believe me."
Max detected a hint of desperation creeping into Eddie's voice.
"It's my anniversary, Eddie." Max figured Eddie wouldn't care. Eddie and Joan had never hit it off. "Joan and I are going out."
"I need your help, Max."
Now that couldn't have come easy for Eddie. This had to be important. Had Eddie ever admitted to needing help from anybody?
Max let out a heavy sigh. "Joan is going to kill me. This better be worth my trouble.”
There was a thoughtful pause as Eddie considered Max's words. "She is."
~0~
Max winced as his Audi dragged bottom. He should have left it back at the beginning of the lane along with the other car. Why the hell didn't Eddie at least have some gravel put down so a person could get to his house? Dumb question. Like why would somebody install a moat. Only one reason.
Well, now there was somebody at Eddie's. A female. Probably one of the hookers who visited him occasionally. Max had lectured Eddie on that, too.
A tree branch scraped the top of his car. "This better be good," Max muttered, thinking of the look on Joan's face when he'd told her he was going to Eddie's. She didn't say anything. She'd said it all before.
"He's my friend," he'd told her more than once.
"He used to be your friend. People change. Your life has moved on while Eddie's has stayed right where it
"Can't."
"You're pissing me off. You're really pissing me off."
She wrapped her arms around his leg, below the knee, and pressed her face to bare calf. "Don't yell at me." Her voice was a soft, pathetic whisper. "You're hurting my head."
His resolve crumpled. Acting or not, she'd gotten to him. He might even have to slay a few dragons for her. "Come on, sweet." It wasn't like him to throw words around, but the endearment just happened, just fell off his tongue as if it were something he said all the time. "Come on." Before, he'd grabbed her by the upper arms. This time he took one hand, then the other.
Sticky.
The palm of her right hand was sticky.
Blood.
She was hurt, and he'd been bullying her.
He bent and scooped her up, shifting her weight until he had a good hold, then strode in the direction of the house. Inside the kitchen, he maneuvered sideways, knocking the wall switch with his elbow, light falling full on her face.
Blood on her top.
He put her down. Where was she bleeding? He ran his fingers across her forehead, her neck. He looked up to find her staring at him.
Huge, dark, smudged eyes in an ashen face.
"Are we going to do it?"
He made a choking sound. "Not right now." He lifted one of her arms, then the other.
A gash. About four inches long, running from her wrist toward the bend in her arm. He looked up to find her watching him.
"Hello,” she said.
"Hi."
Her eyes went from his, to her arm, then back.
"You're bleeding," was his brilliant observation.
"Don't worry. I have excellent clotting properties." And then her eyelids fluttered closed.
Chapter 13
Everybody Hurts
Maxwell Fielding was staring at his reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink, struggling with the knot in his tie, when the phone in the hallway rang.
It turned out to be Eddie Berlin, a law unto himself.
Eddie was probably the only guy Max knew who wasn't a lot of hot air. Some guys might say they'd like to live all alone on an island, but Eddie did it. Hell, Eddie was the island.
Eddie got right to the point. "I need you to make a house call."
Max straightened from where he'd bent to answer the phone. "What's up?"
"Got your needle and thread handy?"
"I'm a shrink, not a surgeon."
"You've stitched people up."
Max would probably regret this. "So?" That question was an admission of the truth.
"I have somebody at my place who needs stitches.”
No way was Max getting involved in something like that. "Take him to the emergency room. That's what it's for."
"I can't." A pause. "You know that."
"Maybe this would be a good time to try."
"It's not. Believe me."
Max detected a hint of desperation creeping into Eddie's voice.
"It's my anniversary, Eddie." Max figured Eddie wouldn't care. Eddie and Joan had never hit it off. "Joan and I are going out."
"I need your help, Max."
Now that couldn't have come easy for Eddie. This had to be important. Had Eddie ever admitted to needing help from anybody?
Max let out a heavy sigh. "Joan is going to kill me. This better be worth my trouble.”
There was a thoughtful pause as Eddie considered Max's words. "She is."
~0~
Max winced as his Audi dragged bottom. He should have left it back at the beginning of the lane along with the other car. Why the hell didn't Eddie at least have some gravel put down so a person could get to his house? Dumb question. Like why would somebody install a moat. Only one reason.
Well, now there was somebody at Eddie's. A female. Probably one of the hookers who visited him occasionally. Max had lectured Eddie on that, too.
A tree branch scraped the top of his car. "This better be good," Max muttered, thinking of the look on Joan's face when he'd told her he was going to Eddie's. She didn't say anything. She'd said it all before.
"He's my friend," he'd told her more than once.
"He used to be your friend. People change. Your life has moved on while Eddie's has stayed right where it
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