“You’re awake,” Patrick said. “The nurses said to call them if you woke.”
Laura crept closer and traced an uninjured part of his cheek. “What happened?”
Dallas frowned, his brow knitting in fierce concentration. “Someone jumped me.”
A short, dark-haired nurse bustled past the curtain surrounding his bed, and Laura retreated to join Patrick.
“He looks terrible,” she whispered. “Have you rung Quinn?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d wait until I’d seen Dallas again and could tell Quinn more about his injuries.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Ring him anyway. If it was me I’d want to know,” Laura said.
Patrick picked up his phone. “Me too.”
“No phones in here please,” the nurse said in a crisp voice. “You have five minutes, and then you’ll have to leave. Mr. O’Grady needs rest. You can visit him tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Laura said, bowing to the nurse’s authority even though she wanted to protest.
Dallas caught her hand when she neared the bed. “Stay with Patrick in apartment. Safer.”
“All right,” she promised.
“You’re going make me consort with the enemy,” Patrick said with a note of horror.
“Yeah.” Dallas tried to smile, and that reassured her.
“Did you see who did it?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah. Told the cops. Never seen them before. Bit hazy.” Dallas yawned and winced as the move pulled his facial cuts.
“Time to leave,” the nurse said.
Laura squeezed Dallas’s hand and stooped to place a careful kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She had a job the next day, but she’d ring the agency as soon as she arrived at the apartment and leave a message on the machine. They’d understand, given the circumstances.
“See you tomorrow, bro,” Patrick said.
Laura didn’t sleep. It wasn’t that the couch was uncomfortable. It was fine, but her mind wouldn’t let go of her worry for Dallas. By six, she gave up the pretense and rose, dressing to start a pot of coffee. She felt grungy and in need of a shower but didn’t like to make free with the bathroom.
Halfway through writing a note for Patrick, he appeared dressed in jeans and a T-shirt poking fun at the Australian Wallabies. His dark hair stood up in its usual disarray and combined with the dark stubble on his cheeks, he resembled a roguish pirate. Laura bet the girls begged for his attentions.
“I was writing you a note. I need to go back to the house to get some clean clothes and a few things for Dallas.”
Patrick poured them both a cup of coffee before answering. “I’ll take you. We can grab breakfast too.”
Laura frowned at him. “I can—”
“Dallas would expect me to look after you.”
Stung at the unspoken implication, she ruffled up like a kitten under attack. “I can take care of myself.”
“Hell. I didn’t mean you were helpless. What I was trying to say is that Dallas likes to take care of his women—ah,woman,” he said on seeing her fierce scowl. “He’d want me to offer my help. Besides, I’m at a standstill with the Clare pub. All I need to do is check on the building alterations and do a couple of interviews later this afternoon.”
“What about here?”
“Gloria is in this morning, and I guess between the two of us, we can take care of tonight.”
