Sweet Vengeance (8 page)

"Sorry,"
he whispered.

Halfway
between her elbow and shoulder was a raw red wound about three inches long.

"You
lucked out.  The bullet only grazed you," he said as he held up her arm
and examined it.  "But sometimes this type hurts the worst because all the
damage is right along the top layers where your nerve endings are."

She
didn't feel so lucky when he poured sterile water on a gauze pad and began
cleaning it.  "Ah..."  She tried to breathe through the intense pain. 
She focused on his face instead of her wound, observing the stubble on his chin
and the way his haircut made each hair on the top of his head spike upward. 

"Almost
done."  He picked up a fresh pad and covered her wound.  He wrapped it
with a strip of gauze to hold it in place.  "Hold this."  She placed
a finger over the end of the gauze while he ripped off a piece of paper tape to
hold his handiwork in place.

"Are
you done?" she asked, releasing a huge sigh.  The pain had lessened now
that he wasn't messing with her injury.

He
smiled, looking into her eyes.  "All done."

"Thank
you."  She smiled in return and stood, vacating the corner of the bed for
him.  He brushed past her as he took a seat, his bare stomach skimming her
forearm.  She shivered from the close contact.

She
glanced at the supplies on the bed, suddenly nervous.  He might be an old pro
at this, but she had no idea what to do.  Bandaging a skinned knee, she could
handle.  But this?

She
followed his lead, taking the small pair of scissors and holding his arm away
from his body.  The skin beneath her fingers was smooth and in sharp contrast
to the hardened muscle that lay beneath.  "Here?" she asked, as she
slipped the edge of the scissors beneath his bandage.

"That's
good."  He watched as she began to cut, but then he tilted his head,
bringing his face only inches from her. 

She
bit her lip and tried to concentrate on her task.  "Please don't look at
me while I do this."  She glanced at him.  His eyes were serious and more
than a little unnerving.

"Why
not?  You're nice to look at."

Her
heart skipped a beat.  "Well, unless you want a cut to go along with your
gunshot wound, you'd better watch what I'm doing instead."

He
shifted his gaze back to his arm, and she finished cutting through the gauze
strip.  She pulled away the bandage and inhaled as her stomach lurched.  A
rolled, skinny piece of gauze hung out the end of an angry red hole in his
skin.  The gauze was soaked with blood.  She steadied herself, trying to
contain the horror she felt.  "Oh, God.  They really got you." 
Compared to his, hers looked like a paper cut.

"Yep. 
In and out.  You were definitely the lucky one."

"All
the way through?"  She lifted his arm, spying a second piece of gauze and
a similar hole on the backside of his arm. 

He
nodded.

She
swallowed her queasiness.  He'd taken care of her, and now she needed to do the
same.  She'd show him she was mature enough to handle whatever came her way. 
She started to remove the gauze and then stopped.  "Are you sure you don't
need a doctor to look at this?"

"Doc
Green took care of that last night.  After he patched you up, we visited his
office.  He took an x-ray to check for bone fragments and cleaned it up.  All I
have to do now is wait for it to heal."

"That's
good, right?  I mean, it's good that it passed through instead of getting stuck
inside."

"Yeah,
it might have meant surgery if it had become lodged against the bone."

It
didn't seem fair he should be hurt worse than her.  She tugged on one of the
rolled pads, pulling it from his wound, trying not to gag as she did so. 
"Don't these pads keep you from healing?"  It didn't make sense to
stuff something in a hole if you wanted it to seal up.

"The
wound has to heal from the inside out.  So each day, you'll stuff it in a little
less."

Each
day?  She wasn't sure she could do it even one time, let alone for days. 
"I have to stuff a new one back in?  Like just push it in?"  She
raised her eyebrows in a questioning look, ignoring the churning feeling in her
stomach.

"Get
it wet with the sterile water, put some ointment on it and push it in."

She
prepped the gauze and then looked at the disfigured skin that resembled an
angry belly-button.  Blood drained from her head and settled in her stomach,
leaving her woozy.  Biting her lip, she rested a hand against his bicep to
steady herself and pushed the gauze in with the other.  He didn't make a sound,
but she knew it had to be painful.  When she finished, he slowly lifted his
arm.  The muscles in his jaw worked as he moved his hand and rested it on the
back of his head to give her access to the other side of the wound.  He closed
his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. 

"Why
don't you take one of those pills your doctor left?"

"Don't
need 'em."

It
was obvious to her that he did.  Her hands were clammy as she repeated the
process on the underneath of his arm.  She started to push the fresh rolled
gauze into the wound as her stomach gave one final warning.

"Oh,
God."  She didn't look at Jase as she dashed from the room, barely making
it to the toilet before her lunch exited her body in a violent heave.  She
stood there for several seconds while her body purged itself.  When her stomach
finally calmed, she stood, inhaling a fresh gulp of air.  She felt much better.

But
the feeling was short-lived when she turned and found Jase standing in the
doorway.  Could she be more humiliated?  "Tell me you didn't see
that."   

"Are
you okay?"

"Yeah,
I'm okay."  Allie went to the sink to rinse her mouth and wash her hands. 
The reality of their situation slammed her, knocking her harder than Rudy
Pannucci's baseball bat had in second grade.  "It's just—" 

Jase
had taken that bullet for
her
.  She dried her hands and turned to the
man who stood behind her.  Why?  What kind of man did that for a stranger? 

"This
is my fault."  Tears stung her eyes, making it difficult for her to
continue.  He'd been shot trying to save her.  "You were hit because of
me."  Why would he do that—put his life at risk for her?  Would Joey have
done the same?  She couldn't say he would have. 

Jase
walked forward and grasped her wrist with his good hand, shaking his head. 
"No, none of this is your fault."

She
sniffed.  "You were hurt trying to save me."

"I
did save you, but if we're going to start casting blame, then let's start with
Joey who put you there in the first place.  Or blame me.  Flying bullets are
part of my life.  Sooner or later one is going to catch up with me.  If not
yesterday, then maybe tomorrow."

"No." 
Allie couldn't stand the thought of another bullet piercing his skin.  She put
a hand on his cheek.  "No.  What if the next one kills you?"  She
shook her head, tears falling, as she tried to stop the flow of her emotions. 
"No more deaths."

He
took her hand from his cheek and shook it.  "Suck it up, Allie.  I can't have
you falling apart until after you get me bandaged up."

He
was right.  "Okay," she answered with a shaky breath.  She needed to
"man up" and finish the job.  She followed him back into the bedroom,
and with unsteady fingers, she stuffed in the wetted pad, put more dry pads on
top of it, and wrapped the whole thing in gauze.  It didn't look as neat as
Jase's, but it was clean and sterile. 

She
grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.  Jase gathered up the supplies, wrapping
the clean items in the towel and taking the used bandages gently in his other
hand.

Allie
put a hand on his chest to keep him from leaving the room.  "Jase, I can't
stand the thought of someone else shooting at you."

His
dark eyes widened with interest.  "I'm not thrilled with the idea, either."

"Then
stop.  Walk away...and live.  Nobody says you have to live this kind of a
life."  It was the same thing she'd told Joey. 

Jase
took a step back.  "It's what I do, Allie.  I don't expect you or anyone
else to understand."  He turned and dropped the used bandages in a
wastebasket near the bed.  "I made my choices a long time ago."

"But
you can make different choices if you want."

A
dangerous look crossed his face.  "I don't want to.  I have my
reasons."

The
sound of footsteps in the hall made them both jump.  Jase slipped a gun out of
the back of his jeans and swiveled toward the door faster than she could blink.

Allie
swallowed her scream.

"Jesus,
Max.  Do you have a death wish?"  Jase lowered his gun with a disgusted
sigh.  He cast a quick glance at Allie, and she tried to hide the tremble that
shuddered through her body. 

"Maybe,
I do."  Max leaned against the doorway in a careless stance, surveying the
bedroom and its occupants.  He took a bite out of a red apple, eyeing Allie
with a none-too-friendly look.  He studied her with his icy blue eyes as though
he was looking for the one thing that would take her down. 

Allie
buried her fear.  She'd learned situations could become more dangerous if the
aggressor sensed vulnerability.  If Max thought he'd have a fight on his hands,
maybe he'd back off.  She straightened her spine as well as her resolve and
took a step toward Jase.  She hadn't asked to be put in this situation and
didn't deserve Max's hostile treatment.  Most of all, she wasn't about to let
Max know he scared the shit out of her. 

Allie
was pretty certain Max had snagged the apple from the load of groceries Jase
had brought.  It was obvious Max felt completely at home in Jase's place—safe
house—wherever they were.  And although he seemed to follow Jase's command, he
wasn't intimidated by his boss.  After all, it had only been an hour since Jase
had kicked him out of the house.

Max
continued to stare at her.  "Sorry to disturb your touching scene." 

"Ever
heard of knocking?" Jase replied.

"I've
never had to knock before."  Max shifted his cool gaze to Jase.

"Now,
you do."  Jase placed himself between Max and her, blocking Max's probing
gaze. 

"Your
enemies aren't going to bother knocking."

"What
the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The
tension between the two men was tangible, and Allie wished she could see Jase's
face.  There was obviously more communication going on than just the words
being spoken.  If she could read their body language or facial expressions, she
might be able to pick up more information.  She remained still and silent, her
gaze wandering the length of Jase from his spiky dark hair, down his rigid
muscular back.   She hated causing problems between him and his men, but had no
idea how to prevent it.

"There's
rumors," Max said.  "Stuff the guys are repeating.  Stuff from the
streets."  Silence followed Max's statement, and Allie could picture them
fighting a silent battle, Jase with his dark, powerful looks and Max with his
glacial expressions.

Finally,
Jase broke the silence.  He looked over his shoulder to her.  "Max and I
have some things to discuss.  We'll take it downstairs."  He gestured
toward the bed.  "Why don't you rest for a while?  It'll help with the
healing.  I'll come get you when dinner's ready."

What
could she say?  Allie knew when she wasn't wanted.

She
sat on the bed with a frustrated huff.  She hated being shut out, but being
away from Max's visual daggers was a relief.  She fell back onto the pillows. 

She
closed her eyes, enjoying the softness of the bed.  She had to admit, it beat
her earlier idea of creeping through the rough streets, trying to find her way
home safely.

*       
*        *

Jase
made it to the kitchen before he turned on his friend.  "What is wrong
with you, man?  You're intimidating the hell out of Allie.  Not to mention, the
information you're giving me is completely screwed."  He exploded with
frustration.  "Last night, you failed to give me vital info on Joey
Pagano, and now you're talking in code." 

Max
remained calm as he walked to the fridge and removed a bottle of Bud.  "I
was about to ask you the same thing."  He set his apple down on the
counter and twisted off the beer cap.  It hissed in answer.

"I
should kick your ass right now."  Jase grabbed the bottle from him before
Max could take a sip.  "There's nothing wrong with me.  I'm not the one
who barged in and scared the shit out of our guest."  He took a large
swallow of beer.  God, he'd needed that.

Max
took another bottle out of the fridge and opened it.  "Your guest, not
mine.  And I didn't scare the shit out of her.  I scared the shit out of you
because
you
were too caught up in the sweet little thing you had
standing next you."  He pulled out a bar stool and sat at the counter. 
"You didn't hear me coming, and you're pissed because you've realized
you're not invincible."