Walking the Edge by Sue Ward Drake

Author:Sue Ward Drake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2020-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Mitch tossed the key on the ornate dresser and fingered the lace window curtain aside. The rain had stopped, and the empty pavement below glistened in the streetlights. No gunmen lingered on the sidewalk, and no angry voices had followed them up the inn’s stairs. So far, so good. He turned to see Cath standing in the middle of the room.

He ran a gaze over her and came up empty. But something had seemed wrong earlier. “Where are you hurt?”

“I–I don’t think I am.” Cath stared at the canopied bed, shivering and dripping onto the Oriental rug.

He crossed his arms. “This is not the time to go all tough on me.”

She stared at him, shaking like a leaf. “Why d-do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Your breathing was labored a while ago. You’re stuttering now.”

“For gosh sake, Mitch.” She failed in her efforts to cross her arms over the vest. “We’ve been running since we jumped out of that car. And I’m soaked to the b-bone.”

“I’m not criticizing. Why don’t you take a shower and get warmed up?”

She unzipped her borrowed rain parka and struggled to pull her arms out. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Can you help me undress?”

Wired like he was right now, undressing her would lead to a heap of trouble. What was wrong with him? He had helped her suit up. He had seen her in a thin T-shirt. But since then he’d kissed her as if she were the last woman on earth.

“Please. I’m exhausted.”

He dropped her parka to the floor, followed that with the sweatshirt. Before he could discard the vest, his lungs stopped working. A bullet nestled in the back panel. He clenched his jaw. “You did get shot.”

“Where?” Cath reached a hand to her back and winced.

To hell with the niceties. He had to see the worst. Cath hugged herself again, and he lowered her arms. “Let me look at your back.”

A big, red welt rose beneath her bra clasp. No wonder she’d been gasping for air. “Are you still having trouble breathing?”

She shook her head, flicking drops of water from her wet hair.

He located his phone to call an ambulance. “You need an X-ray.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why?”

He led her over to the full-length mirror. “Look at your back. That swelling is going to make a pretty bruise, but you could have bruised ribs too. Do you feel pinched when you take a breath?”

“I can breathe now, but we can’t leave, anyway. Those gunmen could spot us.” She turned to assess the damage to her back, and he glimpsed the sheer triangles doing a terrible job covering her breasts. His nerves stood at attention down his chest, through his groin, all the way to his toes. As if Cath were his magnetic north.

He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and handed it to her. “Can you hold on to this?” He jiggled the terry cloth while focusing on the brocaded Victorian chair. “I’m going to get the shower going. Make sure the water’s hot.

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