Present Danger (15 page)

She hesitated inside until he said tersely, “Bathroom.” Once there she flipped down the cover on the toilet and eased him onto it. Through a haze of exhaustion, he watched her divest herself of her coat and toss it out into the hall. She helped him out of his leather jacket and tossed it carelessly after her own. Then she swept aside a clutter of cosmetics, opened the medicine chest and began removing half its contents, lining the items up on the counter like tin soldiers on parade. Filling the basin with warm water, she dipped in a clean washcloth, wrung out the excess moisture, and gingerly cleaned the dried blood from his face. “I still think we ought to get you a doctor. There’s a gash over your eyebrow that looks as though it could use a few stitches.”

“Just slap a Band-Aid
^TM
on it,” he said without opening his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, big, tough man,” she snapped, angry that he was taking this so lightly. His face was a mess, and someone with more medical expertise than she possessed should be caring for him properly.

“I am tough, Aunie,” he reassured her, “and the guys who did this were professionals. They aim for the maximum amount of pain with the minimum amount of permanent damage. Help me outta this shirt will you? The collar’s getting soaked.”

She set down the cotton ball she had just soaked
in hydrogen peroxide and reached for his sleeve, efficiently unbuttoning and stripping the shirt from his shoulders. Her breath hissed in sharply. “Oh, James, look at you.” Her fingers skimmed lightly over the bruises on his chest and stomach. “Who did this to you?”

“I told you … professionals.”

“Yes, I heard you, but what does that
mean?”

He stared at her. He’d forgotten that she was innocent of the sort of experience he took for granted, and the sudden reminder made him feel lousy for exposing her to the dark realities that often comprised his life. Christ, he’d been rolling in filth for so long, he sometimes forgot that not everybody did. Aunie, however, was like no one he had ever known: so pristine and untouched. And right now she felt sorry for him because he was hurt. If she ever realized even a fraction of the things that he had seen or done, it’d make her sick. He’d make her sick. Tonelessly, he said, “That’s not important. It wasn’t meant for me, specifically. It was meant for Paul. I just got caught in the middle.”

Aunie didn’t understand any of this, but she held her peace and silently disinfected the cuts on his face. She pinched together the edges of the gash over his eyebrow and applied several strips of adhesive, hoping it would be adequate. On impulse, she leaned down and pressed her lips gently to the bandage.

James went very still. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing it better.” Embarrassed, she busied herself cleaning up.

James had been taking care of himself and everyone around him for so long now, he didn’t rightly know how to react to being mothered. He was tempted to point out several other areas that could stand kissing
better, but he feared it would offend or embarrass her. So rather than say the wrong thing, he decided to say nothing at all. But that little gesture made him feel good. It made him feel real good.

“I’ve got some pain pills left over from … well, left over,” Aunie said. “You want one?”

“Yeah.”

“Here.” She tipped the prescription bottle over his open palm. “You’re probably twice my weight, so it should be safe to take two.”

He washed them down with water and then she helped him to his feet. They were in her bedroom before he realized where she was leading him, but the instant he did he came to a halt. “I can’t take your bed.”

“Yes, you can. The couch is long enough for me, but it wouldn’t be for you. Don’t argue with me, James,” she commanded with credible authority when he showed signs of digging in his heels. “Just get in the damn bed. I’m not in the mood for an argument.” She left him upright if slightly swaying while she flipped back the covers.

He was too tired to argue. “I’ve got to call Bobby first.”

“Give me the number and I’ll call him. You get in bed before you fall on your face.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with uncharacteristic meekness, recited the number, and lowered himself to the mattress. “Tell Paul … watch his ass. They’re lookin’ for him.”

Aunie eased his jeans down his long legs, trying not to wince at
the
additional bruises she uncovered. She pulled the sheet and blankets up around his shoulders and tucked him in. Then, turning off the light, she left the room.

James rolled painfully onto his side, sliding his hand beneath the pillow to force it into the contour he desired. His fingers touched something satiny and he grasped it, pulling it forth. It was a neatly folded, cinnamon-colored satin slip—obviously Aunie’s nightwear. Feeling her pain pills beginning to take effect, he brought the slip up to his nose and inhaled. Then he gingerly raised his head, tucked it between his cheek and the pillow, and fell asleep.

Bob picked up the phone on the first ring. “Jimmy?” His voice sounded anxious.

“It’s Aunie, Bob. James is here.”

His pent-up breath sighed out gustily. “He okay? I’ve been worried ever since Paul showed up.”

“No,” she said in agitation. Reaction was beginning to set in. “He’s not. He’s been badly beaten and he wouldn’t let me take him to a doctor. He said the men who beat him were professionals, as if that makes any difference, and …”

“If he said he’ll be okay, he’ll be okay, Aunie. He’s tough.”

“Dammit, don’t you tell me that, too! You should see him, Bob. He’s black and blue all over, and they just threw him out of the car like so much garbage, and it took me forever and ever to get him into the house and up the stairs, and
then
he didn’t have his keys, because his brother has them …”

“He at your place?” Bob interrupted her in a calm voice.

“Yes. I cleaned him up and put him to bed. He wanted to call you but I wouldn’t let him.”

“What’s your phone number?”

She recited it to him.

“What’s his message?”

“He … he said to tell Paul to watch his rear end because they’re lookin’ for him.”

If Bob hadn’t been so worried he would have grinned at her wording. It was doubtful Jimmy had ever said
rear end
in his life.

As it was, however, he was worried. “Paul got away from me,” he reluctantly admitted. “He was kickin’ himself for leaving Jimmy with those thugs and went back to find him.”

“And you let him go? What am I gonna tell James, Bobby?”

“I didn’t exactly have an option,” Bob informed her dryly. “Paul is an addict, Aunie, and addicts are wily folk. He told me he was goin’ to the can, but when I went to check up on him I discovered he had slipped out the back door.” He sighed. “How much did Jimmy tell you about what happened tonight?”

“Nothing. Not a darn thing, except that the men who beat him were professionals.”

“Yeah, that’s Jimmy. He’s not one to share his problems—he always has to handle everything himself. Well the fact is, girl, Paul called him to be rescued after tryin’ to rip off his dealer, which is about the stupidest thing an addict can do. He didn’t even do a good job—he dropped his stash trying to get away. From what he told me, they apparently called in their heavy artillery to teach him an object lesson, but he got away and they were left holdin’ Jimmy instead. Drug folks are not noted for their tolerance.”

“But if James had nothing to do with it …” Aunie protested.

“We ain’t talkin’ about the kinda people you’re gonna find in the silk-stockin’ neighborhood you hail from,” Bob told her flatly. “They were told an example
needed to be made and they had a bird in the hand, so to speak, so they did their job.”

“Well, that stinks.”

“Yeah, that it do.” He sighed. “About the only positive thing you can say about tonight’s mess is that before he gave me the slip, Paul was seriously talking about seekin’ help to kick his habit. He’s been through rehab four times already and he’s always gone back to the stuff. But it’s been a long, long stretch since the last time he even tried to go straight. Last couple years, he’s turned a deaf ear to anyone who suggested rehab, so this is a good sign.” Or it will be if he doesn’t get his head kicked in first, he qualified to himself but did not say aloud. No sense in freakin’ her out.

“Y’know,” he said instead, “it’s mostly because of me ‘n him that Jimmy didn’t get to be a kid for very long. Paul knows it as well as I do, but this’s the first I’ve seen that maybe it bothers him as much as it’s been botherin’ me.”

“But if he goes back there and those men are still around, they’re goin’ to beat him, Bobby.”

“He’s two years older than Jimmy, girl; that’s just a chance he’s gonna have t’ take. Hell, he’s a thirty-six-year-old man who’s still lettin’ his kid brother take his punishment for him, and I think it’s finally stuck in his craw. High time, too. If Jimmy wakes up, you tell him nothin’. He’s got an overblown sense of responsibility, which Paul and me encouraged ‘cuz it suited our purposes to have him take care of us. But this is one time we’re gonna handle things on our own. Now that I know Jimmy’s safe with you, I’ll go lookin’ for Paul. You see to it the kid gets a night’s rest and I’ll call tomorrow to fill him in, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks for calling, Aunie, and thanks for takin’ care of my brother. Good night.”

“Bobby!”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

He laughed. “You’re okay, kid. I will take care, all right? Night now.”

“Night.”

Aunie rifled quietly through her dresser drawers in search of a nightgown. Somehow, her favorite sleep slip had made its way out from under her pillow and was now caught beneath James’s cheek. There was no way she could extricate it without waking him, for what wasn’t pressed into the pillow by his face was tangled in his long fingers.

She had stealthily removed the second pillow from the bed, located a nightgown and blanket, and was tiptoeing from the room when the phone rang. Whispering a curse, she dove across the carpet to snatch up her bedside extension before it could awaken James. Kneeling alongside the bed, she brought the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

A second later she replaced the receiver in its slot. James stirred restlessly and she rose up on her knees to check him. She brushed his hair off his face and retucked the blankets over his shoulders. Then she gathered the items she had dropped when the phone rang and rose to her feet.

“Who was that on the phone?” His husky voice, coming out of the dark, startled her and she whirled to face him, her hand clasped to her breast.

“No one,” she whispered. “That is … I don’t know. They hung up.”

“Probably a drunk,” he said groggily, “else a twelve-year-old with an extension in their room.”

“Probably.” She approached the bed. “How are you feelin’?”

Like I’ve been run over by a truck, he thought, but a healthy sense of machismo prevented him from admitting as much out loud. “Okay. Kinda thirsty.”

“Want a glass of water?”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

She left the room and returned moments later to find him struggling to sit up. “Let me help you,” she said, hurrying to his side. Setting the water on the nightstand, she slipped an arm around his back and eased him to a sitting position. His skin was warm where her bare arm met his bare back. She arranged his pillow and slipped her arm free, twisting to retrieve the water glass. She handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he murmured and drank thirstily. To divert herself from watching the smooth glide of his throat muscles, Aunie looked around for her slip, but it was nowhere in sight. She shrugged. It must have slipped beneath the covers when he was struggling to sit up.

He handed her the empty glass and grunted with pain as he lowered himself to a prone position once again. She was pulling the covers up when the phone rang again. “Oh for heaven’s …” She snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

Click.

“Damn!” It took an effort not to slam it back into its cradle.

“Maybe you’d better unplug it for the night,” James suggested.

“Yeah, maybe I should.” She squatted down to do so.

“What time is it?”

“Around three-thirty.”

“Did y’ get hold of Bobby?”

She was glad his back was to her so he couldn’t see her start of nervousness. She’d always been an awful liar. “Yes. He said for you to get all the rest you can, and that he would handle everything at his end.”

“Good.” James sighed, exhaustion pulling at him. “Good night, Aunie.”

“Night, James.” She gathered her items and left the room.

He waited a few moments, then delved down under the blankets with his right hand. Pulling out her satin slip, he raised up his head enough to slide it back between his cheek and the pillow. Then, with a sigh, he closed his eyes.

Moments later, he was sound asleep.

Aunie debated unplugging the living room extension of her phone but decided against it. As long as it didn’t disturb James’s sleep she thought she could put up with a few nuisance calls if she had to. As he’d suggested, the caller was most likely a drunk or a child playing games. In any case, Bobby might try to contact her, and if he did, she wanted him to be able to get through.

Wearily, she picked up the coats she’d tossed in the hallway earlier and hung them in the closet. She made up a bed for herself on the couch, then shimmied out of her dress and draped it across the arm of the chair. Yawning with enough force to make the joints of her jaw creak, she pulled off her pantyhose and panties, donned her nightgown, and padded down the hall to the bathroom. She washed her face,
brushed her hair and her teeth, then returned to the living room. Flopping down on the couch, she pulled the covers up, hesitating only a moment before she snapped off the light. With James in the apartment, she didn’t think it would bother her to sleep in the dark.

Which was a rather amazing concession, considering the shape he was in. If push came to shove,
she
could probably whip him tonight.

Still, there was something reassuring about the presence of a man who could take in stride the beating he had just endured. That kind of toughness was beyond her comprehension. What sort of life must he have led … he and his brothers, too; for, as though they were everyday events, Bob had talked about things that up until tonight she’d half believed only existed in the movies. He’d talked about addiction, stealing, rehab; about examples being set, strong-arm men and … Lord, she couldn’t even keep it all straight. Despite her experience with Wesley, she thought her own life must have been pretty damned sheltered in comparison. She didn’t half comprehend matters the Ryders took for granted.