When I started to walk away, his hand gripped my wrist. Fear, no terror, shot through me, and I nearly yanked my arm from his hand.
“You’re a good person,” Brody murmured, his voice thick from the narcotic pain remedy I gave him. “I’m glad to know you.”
My fears faded at his words, at his hand that failed to hurt me. I gently peeled his fingers from my arm and placed his hand beside him. “You’ve had a tough night,” I said, my voice low. “Get some sleep. Everything will appear better when the sun comes up.”
***
I was wrong about that.
Brody groaned in pain, sweating when I got up not long after dawn, thrashing on my sofa. “Christ, it hurts.”
“Your feet?”
Kneeling, I pulled the blanket from him, examining his bandaged appendages, seeing only the oily gauze with no swelling, no blood. I lightly touched his bandages and felt no excessive heat emanating from them.
“Everything hurts,” he muttered thickly. “Shit.”
“Lie still,” I ordered covering him back up. “I think you got an infection. But not from your burns.”
Sure enough, my hand on his brow told me of his fever. His skin, bright and sweatless, worried me. I needed to cool him down while figuring out where his infection originated. His lungs? Maybe. For that, I should get him to a hospital.
“No hospital,” he declared when I said as much, his eyes bright, burning. “I’ll be okay.”
I sighed heavily. “Are you allergic to any antibiotics?”
“Don’t think so.”
I stood up, then went down the short hall to the bathroom. I’d hoarded various medicines, including antibiotics, for a just in case. And here was my just in case. I selected penicillin, another Vicodin, then took them into the front room. After shaking thepills into his hand, I fetched him water, and watched him drink thirstily.
He held the glass out. “May I have more?”
“Sure.”
Brody downed two more glasses of water before lying back and closing his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me, Lindsey,” he murmured. “May I ask another favor?”
I folded my arms and feigned an imperious expression. “And that would be what exactly?”
His eyes shot open. His jaw dropped. “Uh.”
“I’m kidding. What do you need? Clothes?”
“If you don’t mind running to my house.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s sooo far away.”
This time, Brody caught onto my humor. He grabbed my hand and planted a kiss to my knuckles before I grabbed my hand back. “My angel.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever.”
Two sedans sat parked in front of Brody’s house. I frowned as I crossed the lawn to his property and found the front door wide open. The acrid scent of smoke and ash wafted from the house’s interior. “Hello?”
Two dudes in business attire poked their heads from the front room where the fire started, their brows hiked in identical queries. In fact, they even looked alike. Smooth brown hair brushed back from their brows, black suits, white shirts, blue ties.
“Who are you?” I asked, tense. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“And who are you?” the dude on the left inquired. “Where’s Mr. Sheffield?”
The other opened his wallet, holding out an ID and a badge. “Arson investigation, miss. I’m Lieutenant Carlson, this is Lieutenant McAdams.”
