“Fox?” I asked, worried thathe was injured. There was a bright red cut oozing blood along his cheek.
I got the feeling that’d happened whenI smashed the vase. It’d shattered, and it didn’t seem unlikely that a shardhad hit Fox.
“Hello, darling,” he said,letting his head fall back against the wall and then wincing. I whimpered,wanting to help but not surehow.
Fox grabbed my hand,squeezing it tight, and the panic started to recede. He was okay. Okay enoughto hold my hand, at least.
“My hero,” he said with atiny smirk, eyes closed. “I’m gonna feel this later.”
“I’ll get you some ice,” Ioffered moving to stand.
“Call the police,” he said. “BeforeVincent wakes up and tries for round two. I’m in no shape to do anything aboutit.”
“You’ve had worse,” I jokednervously.
Fox chuckled. “I have,” heagreed. “Think I might’ve come out of this with a new scar, though.”
A twinge of guilt made mystomach twist. That was my fault. This wasallmy fault.
But Fox was still here. He’d come back. He’djumped in to defend me.
Maybe…
Maybe that meant he didn’t mind.
I got my phone out of mypocket, hesitating for a moment. “It’s gonna be a hot scar,” I said, working up thecourage to dial the number. What if they arrested Fox, too? “Very heroic.”
“Make the call,” Foxinsisted. “I’ll be okay, even if he does rat me out for breaking into his car.I’ve got a way with cops.”
“You know,” I said, finallydialing 9-1-1 and squeezing Fox’s hand back. “I believe that.”
“Hey, Fox?” I added while Iwaited for the call to connect. “If you go to jail, I’ll bake a file into acake for you.”
“Do you know how to bake acake?” Fox asked, laughter in his eyes.
I shrugged. “I’ll learn.”
TWENTY-SIX
FOX
My head was spinning. Thedent I’dleft in the wall suggested it had every right to spin, and that it wasn’tlikely to stop soon.
At least I was bundled up onthe couch, blanket around my shoulders, cup of tea in hand, and Quinn safe.
The cup of tea wasundrinkable, but it was the thought that counted, and I was damned well goingto drink it anyway.
Despite Vincent being awakeenough to scream that he was going to have me arrested for breaking into hiscar, the police had left me be.
Possibly because of the uglybruise spreading across my neck.
Well. Whatever it took toget out of trouble, I supposed.
“That cut’s still bleeding,”Quinn said as he sat down beside me. He’d stuck a series of band-aids along thelength of it to stop the blood dripping down my face.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
Doc would’ve wanted tostitch a cut like that, but he also would’ve had to get Gray to sit on top ofme while he did it.
