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?”

labour.” He holds up palms… “It’s settled and she’s fine, but under the circumstances, for the sakes of both Elizabeth and Charlotte,

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 see for myself that you are

*****

pull my

at me. “Well, if it ain’t my old friend Capt’n

“Please don’t.”

smile from her place at the table.

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

over my shoulder. “You don’t have to cook for me,

me relax. I could do with some

Klempner turns, grunting as he

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

have done. Um, yes,

like that. Let me look…” She plucks at the top he's wearing, Michael's, and the fabric gapes open

are

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

says. “Let

tugging at the bottom hem,

Mitch hooks fingers

gash underneath; a wicked slice, six inches long, scored from shoulder to chest. At the edges, blood crisped dry resists,

a doctor. I’ll go get him…”

says, “They have

shakes his head then runs warm water into a bowl, dumping bowl, soap, clean rags and a tube of antiseptic cream on the

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

looks down at himself. “It looks worse than it is,” he comments.

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

two, silently, Michael fills another bowl with fresh

clean slit, starting shallow, but slicing deeper. Mitch slaps a pad of clean cotton over the top, pressing it in place with her

it with his

sits back, a 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? You look as if someone's been using

weighs in.

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

bloody circus show. Mitch, just dress it and then I can get some clothes on

my fleece. “Not in these

stitches,”

peels the cotton pad from Klempner’s reluctant fingers and peers close. “Stopped by the breastbone from going any deeper. It does need stitching, yes.” He presses pad and fingers back into place. “Back in

scratches at his forehead. “You telling

I shrug.

would stitch but keep to the edges. If it gets onto raw flesh, it'll hurt

Looks at the tube.