Chapter Five

  The farther away she got, the easier Cady found it to breathe, and her nerves settled enough for her to focus on the task at hand. Her eyes strayed often to the form lying across the back seats, but she didn’t initiate any conversation with him, figuring he needed to rest, not answer the zillion questions churning around in her mind. This was so not where she’d though the evening would take her!

  Once well away from the scene, she focused more on trying to find an elusive parking space near their apartment. There was a parking garage under the building itself, but it was too much to hope that he could afford one of the spaces – they had been known to command the same price as a studio apartment. Still, she had to try it after circling the block twice with no luck. After feeling around on the sunshade, she found a small square box and aimed it at the gate, tapping her toes in excitement when it started to roll up.

  “We’re here!” she called out with undisguised relief.

  Ethan didn’t stir, but moaned slightly when she pulled him out of the car. Somehow she managed to get him up to the fifth floor (thank God their building had an elevator!) and into his apartment. Barely able to keep him upright, she looked for a good place to set him down.

  “Bedroom,” he murmured, and she took it as a good sign that he seemed to know where they were. The layout of the apartment mirrored hers, one open living room/kitchen space and two bedrooms. The first door they passed was locked, but the master bedroom door stood open, his queen sized bed tidily made.

  Worry puckered Cady’s forehead once she set him down and watched the blood instantly seep out to stain his bed. “Do you have a first aid kit or something?” she asked, looking around for something to staunch the flow of blood. What little medical knowledge she had could fit into a thimble, but common sense told her they had to get pressure on the wound and the knife needed to come out. Well, what he really needed was the ER, but seeing as how that didn’t seem to be an option, her own limited know how would have to do. “Ethan?” she prompted when he didn’t answer. “First aid kit?”

  “Bathroom,” the single word escaped his lips.

  Cady found the adjoining bathroom easily, already knowing the floor plan. Dropping to her knees in front of the single sink, she pawed through the cabinet before spotting a gray Tupperware container filled with medical supplies. Grabbing the whole thing, she brought it back to the bedroom.

  “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got in here,” she said aloud, digging through the kit. Gauze, scissors, Band-aids… mostly suited for smaller wounds, but she’d have to make do. “You know we have to take that knife out,” she said softly, her eyes darting to his face to see if he could still hear her.

  “S’too bad, starting to get used to it,” he replied, though his eyes were still closed. Surprised he had the strength to joke, she took it as a good sign and tried to keep things light.

  “Let me know, I could try to work around it. It might be a nice place to hang your keys. Could make it tough to go through metal detectors, so you’ll have to drive everywhere from now on,” she chattered, peeling back the sodden layer of his coat and cutting away the shirt with the scissors she found in the kit.

  “Drive…” he wheezed, and she realized it was a laugh cut off by a grimace of pain.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to make you laugh,” she winced in sympathy. “Try not to talk unless you have to.” Once she got a better look at the wound, she started to think she was in way over her head though. “That’s going to soak right through the gauze,” she blanched.

  “Towel… over gauze,” he instructed, sounding like he’d done this before. There would be plenty of time to think on that later, for the moment Cady was too busy steeling herself for having to inflict more pain on him in his current state.

  “Towels, gotcha. I’ll be right back, don’t move a muscle.”

  “Be right here,” he promised, his eyes opening briefly to scan her face before sliding shut again.

  Cady was back in two shakes with a stack of fluffy white towels under her arm. And then it was go time. No more lame attempts at humor, no more pleas to call for a real doctor, she had to suck it up and pull the damn thing out. “We’ll do this on the count of three,” she warned, receiving his curt nod. Carefully, she placed the gauze near the wound and held the towel in position.

  “One…” You can do this… “Two…” The hand poised over the knife started to shake, and she made a tight fist and released it. “Three.” The last word came out barely a whisper as she pulled the knife out as straight as she could manage, letting it clatter to the floor in her haste to get the gauze and towel over the wound. Ethan made no sound except for a series of short, staccato breaths like he was in childbirth. At least until she applied pressure with both hands and he let out a howl of pain.

  “I’m sorry, so sorry,” Cady repeated, eyes tearing slightly in sympathy. “Just try not to move,” she added unnecessarily, as if he didn’t already know that. Though it might have been a blessing for him to pass out, she was glad he was still conscious. It was a good sign that he hadn’t lost too much blood, wasn’t it? Feeling like she was in way over her head, she held steady on the towel until the bleeding showed signs of slowing. It was bad though, really bad. What he needed was stitches, and probably not only on the surface.

  “I really think we should get you to the hospital,” she said softly.

  “No, the worst is over. Now that it’s out, I’m already feeling better,” Ethan replied, and his voice did sound stronger.

  “I think you’re overestimating the body’s ability to heal,” Cady shook her head. “And there’s the chance of infection, not to mention internal damage to your organs.”

  “It’ll be fine,” he insisted stubbornly. “But I need you to do a couple of things for me.”

  “You mean besides keeping you from bleeding to death?” she snorted. “Sure, what is it?”

  “I need you to get the duct tape from the hall closet, and the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge.”

  “Are you sure a tea party is what you need right now?” She raised a single brow.

  He gave something between a cough and a laugh. “You were right about infection, the wound has to be cleansed. The tea has… antibacterial properties.”

  “Do you have any booze? That would probably work better.” At least it always did in the movies. “I could run next door and see what we have on hand,” she offered.

  “No, thank you. The tea will be fine.”

  “Oh, and the tannins, I getcha.”

  He stared at her blankly.

  “The tannins in the tea, they promote blood clotting, I get it.” At least she remembered reading something to that effect.

  “Right,” he said slowly, and she had the impression he wasn’t sure what she was talking about. That explained the need for tea, but duct tape? It took her half a moment to figure out what it was for, but then it made perfect sense.

  “Sure, I can get you those things, but do you think you can hold on to this by yourself?” she asked doubtfully.

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.” Picking up his hand and placing it over the towel, she rose and scurried off to get the items he needed, her sandals sliding on the scuffed hardwood floor. The duct tape was harder to find than she would have liked, and she slipped it over her wrist like a bracelet, then headed for the kitchen to grab the pitcher of tea.

  This was going to be messy.

  “Are you still with me, Ethan?” she asked, finding his eyes closed again when she returned.

  “Yes.” Ethan reached blindly for her, and she grabbed his hand, sitting on the bed beside him. His eyes opened, the pupils large and dilated, nearly swallowing the bright blue irises. “You’ll have to pry the wound open and wash it out good. Don’t worry about hurting me, you have to make sure you get it all out.”

  She didn
’t like the sound of that one bit. Was he worried about cross contamination from Claudio’s blood? Somehow she didn’t think tea would be enough. “Get what all out?”

  “The rust.”

  “The knife was rusty?” Cady kicked at it with the edge of her sandal, but it was too crusted with blood to tell. “Why would you carry a rusty knife?”

  “Not important.” He let go of her hand to wave it away. “Can you do that? Clean it out well? Use gauze to swab it clean if you have to.”

  Ick. “Yeah, I can do that,” she pledged, with more confidence than she felt. Grabbing another of the towels, she placed it by his side to catch the worst of the runoff from the tea. “We’ll go on three again,” Cady decided, glad when his head tilted back again and his eyes slid shut. She didn’t want to have to look him in the eye when she hurt him again.

  This time she didn’t hesitate on the count, pulling the bloody towel aside and pouring the cold tea across the wound. It had already started to clot, and the tea washed away crusty chunks of blood and worse, the wound bleeding freely again. How was this a good plan?

  Ethan’s body tensed as the cold liquid hit him, and his breath came in controlled pants again as he fought through the pain. The liquid fizzed in certain places, almost like hydrogen peroxide, but the more she poured on, the less it bubbled. True to her promise, Cady pried open the wound, watching carefully as she poured more tea over it. If there were flakes of rust in there, she couldn’t see them, but she kept pouring until two thirds of the pitcher was gone.

  “There, I think that’s good.” She took in a long breath, pressing a fresh square of gauze to the wound. The towels were a soggy mess, and she tossed them on the floor where they landed with a wet slap.

  “Thank you,” he groaned, his voice sounding very far away and she thought he might pass out.

  “Ethan? Are you still with me?” she prompted. “I need you to sit up if I’m going to get this tape on.” Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to get enough pressure on the wound. She had to wind it around his torso, similar to taping broken ribs. “Ethan, can you hear me?”

  His eyes popped open again, a little too widely. “Cady?”

  “I’m here,” she reached for his hand again. “Did you understand me? I need you to sit up a little, can you do that?” If not, she’d have to figure something else out.

  “Yes,” he groaned again, pushing himself up. Not quite ready for the movement, she grabbed the roll of duct tape, which still hung around her wrist like a loose bracelet.

  “Good, you’re doing great,” the encouraging words slipped out, and Cady continued the litany of praise while she applied a fresh piece of gauze and tape, winding it around him carefully. Luckily, he was not a hairy man. His chest was smooth and muscled; it wouldn’t be too painful to remove the tape when the time came. “There now, it’s over. Lie back and rest,” she said with gentle pressure at his shoulder when she was done.

  “I need to drink first,” Ethan protested, his hand weakly reaching for the pitcher of tea.

  “Oh, sure,” she nodded. “Do you want me to get you a glass?”

  “No, thank you.” His fingers closed over the handle of the pitcher. “This is fine.” Cady helped him, holding the bottom steady while he drank and drank.

  “Thirsty, huh?” she commented when he fell back against the pillows. There was maybe an inch of the tea left in the pitcher. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip as she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. “Are you sure there isn’t someone I can call… someone who can take care of you?”

  His eyes opened again, but she wasn’t sure he saw her. “No, thank you.”

  That seemed to be his default answer. “Ethan… tea aside, if you’ve damaged something internally…”

  His hand sought hers again, finding it unerringly. “The worst of it is over, I’m sure of it. All I need now is rest.”

  “If you say so,” Cady replied dubiously, continuing to chew on her bottom lip. Besides the stab wound, there were a network of older bruises across his torso, some fresher than others, as though he’d been in multiple fights. Who was this man? All at once she remembered the stab wound through his other hand, and muttered few choice curse words.

  “What is it, what’s wrong?” His head lifted off the pillow.

  “No, shhh, relax. I just realized we forgot to do something about your hand. That’s got to be at least as bad as this wound.” Maybe worse. The knife had gone completely through the center of his palm.

  “It’s fine.” He made a fist around the strip of bandage he’d already tied there, dropping it out of her reach.

  “It can’t be fine, you completely skewered it. Let me see your hand.”

  Ethan held the hand away stubbornly, meeting her gaze, exhaustion warring with stubbornness. “It’s fine.”

  “Alright, it’s fine,” she allowed, giving up. “Don’t blame me if your hand turns all gangreney and diseased and you have to have it cut off.” She picked up the remnants of the medical supplies tossing them into the plastic container. “What do I know? I’m just the person who patched you back together again.”

  “It’ll be fine.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice this time, and when she looked up at him, the remainder of a smile tilted his lips, though his eyes slid shut again. Watching him with his eyes closed, Cady took the opportunity to study him, now that she wasn’t scrambling to take care of him.

  Obviously he took care of himself, as there wasn’t a spare ounce on him. His chest was broad and well muscled, tapering to the ridges of a toned abdomen, a light dusting of golden hair trailing from his navel and disappearing into the top of his jeans. His arms and shoulders bulged with quiet strength, even in repose, and the cut of his jaw was lean under the facial scruff. He was older than she was, at least twenty five or six, but that was the usual for guys she ended up meeting in clubs. Had she thought before he wasn’t conventionally handsome? He wasn’t the pretty boy type, but there was something about him. Overall, not bad… not bad at all.

  His bed was a sticky mess of drying blood and tea, his skin worse. She thought about cleaning him up better, but decided to let him get the rest he so badly needed. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she rose from the bed, but his hand chased after her, calling her back.

  “What is it? Do you need something?” she asked softly, when he didn’t speak at first.

  “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

  “Me?” Cady blinked in surprise that he’d be worried about her with how messed up he was. “No, I’m fine. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping without nightmares for a while, but yeah, all things considered, I’m okay.”

  “Good.” He relaxed, grip loosening, his voice becoming lighter, floating. “Good.”

  Lips curving into a soft smile, Cady held onto his hand a bit longer. “I’m glad you’re okay too,” she replied, watching him drift off.