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?”

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

as though waiting for me to argue. I don’t. “They are staying in the hotel for the next 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

*****

I pull my ingredients together. Prawns, ginger,

he gets a look at me. “Well, if it ain’t my old

“Please don’t.”

smile from her place at the

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

have to cook for me, James. I’ll be

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

Klempner turns, grunting as he

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

down at himself, seeming surprised. “Oh! Must have done. Um, yes, he did,

that. Let me look…” She plucks at the top he's wearing, Michael's, and the fabric gapes open at a clean slice. Mine is underneath and

these are soaked through with

unconcerned by the damage to himself. Quite the opposite. He seems gratified by her attention, eyes crinkling as

says. “Let me have a proper

pull them up, fingers tugging at the bottom hem,

hooks fingers

eyes, grimacing, as the sodden fabric peels away from the gash underneath; a wicked slice, six inches long, scored from shoulder to chest. At the edges, blood crisped dry resists, plucking at the wound as

looks. “That needs a doctor. I’ll go get him…” He makes as though to

then apologising with his eyes, says, “They have an annoying habit of wanting to know

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

is smeared in blood, red by the wound, black

looks worse than it is,” he comments. “My clothes... Sorry... Your

look calculated to swat flies then, starting at the outer edge, working in,

or two, silently, Michael fills another bowl with fresh water and

deeper. Mitch slaps a pad of clean cotton over the top,

her hand, replacing it with his

his chest. “Good God, Larry. What have you been doing the last few years? You look as if someone's been using

in.

a physique bare of any 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

and then I

of my fleece. “Not in

stitches,”

the breastbone from going any

“You telling me he keeps sutures in

I shrug.

it to Mitch. “Superglue. Use a dot wherever you would stitch but keep to the

the tube. Bites a lip. “Can you