He could feel Dylan’s baleful stare on his profile. Holding on tight as he took turns sharply, she didn’t distract him by talking until they were a couple of miles away from their starting point. “You realize that the doctor in front of my name doesn’t designate me as a physician of medicine.”
“Of course I know that, Dr. Reede.”
“God knows what was on that knife, Mitch. You need to go to an emergency care center.”
“No can do.”
“You’re trying to be tough? A hero?”
“If I wanted to be a hero, I’d be back there hunting down that son of a bitch with the switchblade.”
“Surely we’re far enough away by now that—”
“I’m not going to an emergency center with a knife wound. The facility would be obligated to report it to the police.”
“You’re the police.”
“Right, so what would be the point? Please just drop it. It takes too much energy to argue.”
She stopped arguing, but, still obviously frustrated, turned her head away. Then, “There! There’s a drugstore.”
It would be impossible to miss. The familiar chain store was lit up brighter than the Las Vegas strip.
She said, “Pull over. I’ll go in and—”
“Try again.” He blew past the store.
“I could get some bandages, antiseptic, pain relievers. I could—”
“You could call any-damn-body.”
“I won’t. I’ll leave my phone with you.”
“You could borrow one.”
“I wouldn’t. I swear.”
He glanced at her but didn’t let up on the accelerator. “On security cameras you’d be seen buying first aid stuff for somebody who just might have a fresh knife wound.”
“Nobody is looking forme.”
He gnawed the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on that. There was plenty to talk about on that subject, but later.
She said, “Isn’t it a little late for you to be concerned about security cameras? This vehicle has probably been picked up by dozens of them by now.”
“It has a blurred license plate, and there aren’t any cameras at that defunct business where I left it, which is one of the reasons why I chose that spot.”
Having had that argument shot down, she resorted to pleading, “Mitch, please. You’re bleeding.”
“It looks worse than it is.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my guts aren’t spilling out.”
“The cut should at least be cleaned.”
“It’ll keep for a while.”
