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?”

premature labour.” He holds up palms… “It’s settled and she’s fine, but under the circumstances, for

should we need them. Meanwhile you…” He levels a finger at me… “…are going to let

*****

kitchen, I pull my

my old friend Capt’n Bluebeard.” He elbows me in the ribs. “Oohhh, Aaarrr!” Then, slaps his forehead as I

“Please don’t.”

place at

when I can take the bloody thing off.” The tang of onions rides up my sinuses and I try to rub my nose, then realise my damn eye is watering

have to cook

enjoy cooking. It helps me relax. I could do with

enough.” Klempner turns, grunting

with her eyes. “Larry, why are you moving like that?” She looks closer. “You're bleeding. Did Baxter get

“Oh! Must have done. Um, yes, he did,

at the top he's wearing, Michael's, and the fabric gapes open at a clean slice. Mine is underneath and

these are

by the damage to himself. Quite the opposite. He

these off,” she says. “Let me

at the bottom hem, then hisses, eyes

me.” Mitch hooks

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

looks. “That needs a doctor. I’ll go

you.” Klempner calms, then apologising with his eyes, says, “They have an annoying

clean rags and a tube of antiseptic cream on the table. Then he rummages through drawers before producing gauze, bandage and

Klempner's naked chest is smeared in blood, red by the

than it is,” he comments. “My clothes... Sorry... Your clothes... soaked up the blood and

look calculated to swat flies then, starting at the outer edge, working in, she wipes and cleans, squeezing the cloth into

silently, Michael fills another bowl with

the blood cleaned, the wound can be seen as a clean slit, starting shallow, but slicing deeper. Mitch slaps a pad of clean cotton over the top, pressing it in

her hand, replacing it with his own, face

mid-sentence, staring at his chest. “Good God, Larry. What have you been doing the last few years?

weighs in. “Or

trace of flab, apparently constructed from whipcord and leather, Klempner’s chest is crisscrossed with scars, slices and punctures. Some deep and red, some fine white lines. Trying not to be obvious about it, I steal a look to the rear. His

a bloody circus show. Mitch, just dress it and then

of my fleece. “Not in these clothes, you won't.

needs stitches,” insists

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

his forehead. “You telling me he keeps

I shrug.

dot wherever you would stitch but keep to the edges. If it gets

the tube. Bites a