Hot Revenge Box Set 2

James

And now, for the first time, I push the door, quiet as I can, looking in.

Mitch is there, a pad on her lap, sketching. She sits by Charlotte; sleeping, so pale.

No, not pale; pallid.

What they did to you…

But she’s clean and warm and comfortable. And by the side of the bed, within touching distance, also sleeping…

Cara…

My daughter…

And in a chair by the window, a hawk-eyed nurse.

What’s been happening?

Mitch smiles, holding up her pad: a half-drawn sketch, in pastels, of mother and baby. Then she looks me up and down, pulling a face.

?

I mouth silently. “What?”

She nods me to the mirror and I see myself.

Oh, My God…

Even though I changed, brushed my hair, I can’t let Charlotte wake up to see me like this. Or Cara…

The eye is not a pretty sight. It’s not so swollen now and it’s beginning to open again, but the colour, a kind of reverse rainbow in blue, green and sickly yellow, is enough to put anyone off their… milk… There’s not too much I can do about the bruising, but at the least, I should clean myself up.

I stoop, kiss Charlotte’s cheek. She stirs, mumbling something soft. I can’t make out the words, but sleeping, her lips are curving.

I stroke Cara’s tiny face, and eyes-closed, she blows a bubble.

Then, with a nod to Mitch, I turn to leave. And Michael’s there. He too holds the pair in his gaze, then with a tap to my chest. “Let’s let them sleep.”

Mitch follows us out, picking up a baby monitor en route and popping it in her pocket.

*****

A hot shower and I feel more myself. Then Richard snags me, bullying me through to where the doctor I saw is waiting.

“I’m sorry… What’s happening?”

the circumstances, for the sakes of both Elizabeth and Charlotte, and considering Charlotte’s feelings regarding hospitals

few weeks and are on 24/7 call should we need them. Meanwhile you…” He levels a finger at me… “…are going to let Doctor Polinski examine that eye. Along with any other damage you might have taken last night. I can see for myself

*****

I pull my

my work area and Hmmms, then grins as he gets a look at me. “Well, if it ain’t my old friend Capt’n Bluebeard.” He elbows me in the ribs. “Oohhh, Aaarrr!” Then, slaps his forehead as I wince. “Sorry, James. I

“Please don’t.”

a smile from her place at the table. “It suits you. Kind of…

rides up my sinuses and I try to rub my nose, then realise my damn eye

over my shoulder. “You don’t have to cook for me, James. I’ll be happy

helps me relax. I could do with

Klempner turns, grunting

moving like that?” She looks closer. “You're bleeding. Did

seeming surprised. “Oh! Must have done. Um, yes,

Let me look…” She plucks at the top he's wearing, Michael's, and the

are soaked

of panic on her face. Klempner watches her, apparently unconcerned by the damage to himself.

off,” she says. “Let me

tugging at the bottom hem, then hisses, eyes rising

me.” Mitch hooks fingers under, then

the edges, blood crisped dry resists, plucking at the wound as she peels away the garment. But liquid blood, dark

takes the briefest of looks. “That needs a doctor. I’ll go get him…” He makes as

No doctors, thank you.” Klempner calms, then apologising with his eyes, says, “They have an annoying

runs warm water into a bowl, dumping bowl, soap, clean rags and a tube of antiseptic cream on the table. Then he rummages through drawers

bloody tops removed, Klempner's naked chest is smeared in

looks down at himself. “It looks worse than it is,” he comments. “My clothes... Sorry... Your clothes... soaked up

then, starting at the outer edge, working in, she wipes and cleans, squeezing the cloth

Michael fills another bowl

but slicing deeper. Mitch slaps a pad of clean cotton over the top, pressing it in place with her hand. “It needs

hand, replacing it

set to her eye. “You behave as though you've done this before…” She halts in mid-sentence, staring at his chest. “Good God, Larry. What have you been doing the last few years?

weighs in. “Or

scars, slices and punctures. Some deep

bloody circus show. Mitch, just dress it and

pick up what’s left of my fleece. “Not in these clothes, you won't. I'll get you something

stitches,” insists

by the breastbone from going any deeper. It does need stitching, yes.” He presses pad

telling

I shrug.

hands it to Mitch. “Superglue. Use a dot wherever you would stitch but keep to the edges. If it gets onto raw flesh, it'll hurt

wound. Looks at the tube.