Killshadow Road. Пола Грейвс

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СКАЧАТЬ why was she unconscious?

      He checked her head, ignoring the way her curls tangled around his fingers as he gently probed her skull for any sign of a head injury. He felt no bumps, no cuts or abrasions, nothing to suggest she’d taken any sort of blow to the head. He sat back on his heels and observed her for a second.

      She appeared thin. Thinner than he remembered, certainly. Her skin was naturally fair, but the darkened shadows beneath her eyes gave him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

      “Rigsby?”

      Her eyelids fluttered open. “Hi.”

      He smiled. “Hi. Can you stick around this time and tell me what happened?”

      “I’m tired.” Her eyes started to close again.

      He gave her a light shake, earning a grimace of displeasure from his patient. “If I’m going to do what you asked and not call a doctor, I need you to give me a good reason for my restraint.”

      Her eyes snapped open again, meeting his steadily for the first time. “Darcy.”

      “Rigsby.”

      Her lips curved slightly at his dry response. “Of all the cabins in all the Podunk little mountain towns...”

      “You had to fall headfirst into mine.”

      “I knew you lived here.” She made the admission as if she was a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know who else to trust. Not even sure I can trust you, but I need help, so...”

      “How bad are the gunshot wounds? Can you tell?”

      “I don’t think it hit anything major.” She tried to rise, grimacing with the effort.

      He helped her into a sitting position. “Define major.”

      She looked up at him through a tangle of auburn curls that had fallen over her forehead. “No internal organs or major blood vessels compromised.”

      “Are you certain?”

      “I’ve been running through the woods for six hours and I haven’t bled out yet.”

      Six hours? She’d been in this condition for six hours? “Do you know who shot you?”

      She shook her head no. “Not a clue. Which is why I can’t trust anyone.” She pushed her hair back with one shaky hand, meeting his gaze. “I’m hoping I can trust you.”

      “You can,” he said firmly. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

      She looked down at her side, her lips curling in dismay. “That’s gonna leave a scar.”

      “Never knew you to be vain, Rigsby.”

      She looked at him from beneath a furrowed brow. “Been so long out of the DSS that you’ve forgotten what battlefield humor sounds like?”

      He didn’t feel like smiling. “Why would someone be shooting you, McKenna?”

      She made a face at his use of her first name. “I was looking into something. For the FBI. I guess I got too close.”

      “Too close to what?”

      She looked down at her bloody hands. “Do you think we could get me cleaned up a little before I undergo the post-mission debriefing, Agent Darcy?”

      “I’m not with the DSS anymore.”

      She slanted him a look of pure irritation. “Yes, I know.”

      “Keeping up with my career, Rigsby?” He helped her to her feet, keeping his hands on her arms until he was sure she wouldn’t topple over if he let go. “I’m touched.”

      She pulled her arms free of his grasp and took a staggering step back before she regained her balance. “Purgatory is in my new jurisdiction,” she said coolly. “I was assigned to the Knoxville Field Office a few months ago.”

      “After the incident at the Tri-State Law Enforcement Society conference?”

      “As a matter of fact, yes.” She tugged the edge of her bloody sweater down to cover her wounds, wincing. “I really need to sit down.”

      Muttering a soft curse, he crossed to where she stood and picked her up, tightening his grip against her weak struggles. “Stop fighting me and I’ll let you go soon enough.”

      He carried her through the narrow hallway into the cabin’s main bathroom and set her on the counter of the long double-sink cabinet. She looked around the spacious room, one ginger-brown eyebrow cocking upward. “Nice digs.”

      “It came with the job.” Most of the men and women who worked for Alexander Quinn had no idea that he owned about half the real estate in the foothills just east of Purgatory, including almost fifty rental cabins that brought in a generous income beyond his profits from The Gates. While the security and investigation agency was doing remarkably brisk business for a new company, the kind of high-tech services The Gates offered weren’t inexpensive. But Quinn was a wealthy man in his own right, and if he had chosen to funnel his own money into the company, who was Darcy to question his wisdom?

      “Looks like one of those tourist-honeymoon cabins.” She nodded at the ridiculously large claw-foot tub. “Is your bed heart-shaped?”

      “You’ll see for yourself once you’ve cleaned up and rehydrated.”

      “I could kill for a strong cup of coffee.” She winced again as he tugged the hem of her sweater up to take another look at her wounds.

      “We’ll start with water and see how that goes.” He opened the drawer of the sink cabinet and pulled out a clean washcloth. “First, we need to clean your wounds and get them disinfected.”

      “Don’t suppose you know a crooked pharmacist we could bribe for some antibiotics?” she asked as he turned on the hot-water tap and let the water soak the washcloth.

      “Sadly, no, though I could probably throw a stick in any direction and hit a methamphetamine dealer.”

      “We call ’em ‘meth mechanics’ or ‘meth cookers’ around here,” she said, a smile in her voice despite the obvious pain creasing her forehead. “I will say you’ve lost a little of your accent since the last time I saw you.”

      “Perish the thought.” He wrung some of the excess water from the washcloth before adding a dollop of antibiotic hand soap to the rag. “Not quite Betadine, but—”

      “Ow!” She sucked in a harsh breath, making him feel like a brute.

      “Sorry,” he murmured, trying to take it easier on her.

      “No, don’t be gentle. The cleaner you get it, the less likely I’ll end up in a hospital on an IV.” She twisted to give him better access to her injury, moaning a little as he washed the ragged edges of the bullet wounds.

      “You’re likely to end up hospitalized no matter what I do,” СКАЧАТЬ