“Because you weren’t in any state to consent. You should have evidence in case you want to file suit against me.” Of course, he’d just confess if she wanted.
Her brows drew down. “You need to knock it off.”
What the heck? “Huh?”
“We were both drugged, both participated, and that’s the end of it.” She looked small and vulnerable with the sheet wrapped around her body. “If you’re not filing suit, neither am I.” She sighed. “Truth be told, I would’ve not only consented but probably initiated something tonight, even if we hadn’t been drugged.”
“That doesn’t matter. Somebody drugged us, and that’s criminal,” he reminded her, feeling it to his gut.
“I know.” She turned for the bathroom, pausing at the doorway, not facing him. “Unlike the other night, I don’t see any evidence of condoms. Um, I’m clean. Had a checkup last month and haven’t been with anybody for eons.”
“Ditto,” he responded. “Totally clean.” Another thought occurred to him, and his chest pounded. “Are you, well, on . . .”
“No. My mom beat breast cancer in her early forties, and the doctors have advised me to stay away from hormones just in case. I’m not on the pill or any other form of birth control.” She moved into the bathroom and shut the door.
* * *
Dana sat at Wolfe’s kitchen table, thumbing through Candy’s notebook, once again. “Maybe ‘dialysis’ means some sort of corporate espionage? Theft?” The symbols and weird words kept blurring in front of her eyes, and the over-the-counter painkiller wasn’t working on her headache. She’d slept with Wolfe the night before and could only remember bits and pieces.
Worse yet, he was like a thundercloud—full of anger and barely contained violence, pacing back and forth in the living room. He’d showered as well and dressed in his usual jeans and faded T-shirt, his wet hair a little spiky.
Even though she trusted him, she was still feeling vulnerable after being drugged. She remembered making the move with Wolfe, and images of her participating with him, but everything was so fuzzy. Whoever had drugged them would pay, for sure.
The back slider opened, and Malcolm delivered a couple of sandwiches. “Pippa made extra for lunch.” His sharp gaze took them both in. “How are you two doing?”
“Fucking great,” Wolfe growled, peering out the front window.
“Dana?” Malcolm asked, setting the plate down.
The smell of fresh turkey wafted closer. “I’m fine,” she said, lying only a little.
“Good. What can I do?” Mal asked.
Wolfe stopped moving. “Would you mind scrubbing down the Chevy and getting rid of it? Leave it somewhere it’ll be found, but stay away from cameras.”
Mal’s expression smoothed out. “Love to. I’ll take care of it.” He was gone within a second, making a quick exit.
The kitten jumped onto Dana’s lap and snuggled in with a soft purr.
“Finally.” Wolfe let the curtains drop and yanked the door open.
Roscoe was the first through the door, making a beeline for Dana to scratch his ears. She leaned over and petted the pooch, wanting all of a sudden to bury her face in his fur. She cleared her throat.
Angus followed, along with the British guy and then a gnarled bald man, around sixty years old, wearing a white lab coat and holding an old-fashioned doctor’s bag.
“Ah, shit,” Wolfe muttered, slamming the door. “You brought Doctor Crazy?”
“You said to keep it quiet,” Angus replied, moving toward Dana and halting a few feet away. “Are you all right?” Concern glowed in his deep green eyes.
She forced a smile, trying not to freak out any more than necessary. Nope. “I’m fine. Wolfe is blaming himself, and he needs to stop it right now.”
Angus sighed. “This is Dr. Georgetown, and he often does work off the books for us.”
The doctor gave a half bow. “Happy to be of service.” He shoved wire spectacles up his nose. “Angus filled me in on the way here, even though the British chap drives like a bat out of, well, heck.”
Jethro eyed the sandwiches. “It’s not my fault Force can’t find his truck and you all needed a ride.”
Angus flushed. “My truck is in the shop.”
