“Head wounds bleed,” she said in battle weary tones; the voice of experience.

That’s al I heard because it was then that I fainted.

Eddie was sitting by the bed when I woke up.

“Hey there, Cariña,” he whispered.

“Don’t tel anyone I fainted,” I whispered back.

His eyes smiled even though his lips didn’t.

“They must have thought I was a lunatic, ranting about Dad with blood running down my face.”

“I don’t expect they thought much of anything except bein’

glad you were alive to rant.”

I figured he was right.

He helped me sit up and then took off to go to the waiting room to tel everyone I was okay while I fil ed out forms (I was praying, since I was on an unplanned, unscheduled vacation, that Smithie stil had me insured…

told you he took care of his girls, probably no other strip joint had good insurance).

Then Eddie came back.

“You should know, someone told Duke and Tex and they were both out there. Your Mom too. I told ‘em you were fine, I’d take care of you and sent them home. You can talk to them tomorrow.”

I pushed back the alarm of Mom knowing I’d been grazed by a bul et and focused on feeling grateful. Grateful I had friends who would sit around in the waiting room of a hospital to hear news of a graze and grateful that Eddie took care of them so I didn’t have to. Because I was grateful, I found his hand and I gave it a squeeze. He one-upped my squeeze by bringing my fingers up and brushing his lips against my knuckles.

The gesture was so intimate, my bel y curled and the oxygen burned in my lungs.

It was then, Detective Marker arrived.

Eddie stood with me while Detective Marker talked to me, again.

The only good news Jimmy Marker gave me was that Shirleen was okay. She sustained a blow to the head. She was taken to Presbyterian/St. Luke’s Hospital and admitted for observation only, a minor concussion.

“Do you know where Dad is?” I asked Detective Marker.

He looked at me.

“Usual y that’s my line,” he returned, trying to joke.

I stared at him.

He sighed, looked at Eddie, then back at me.

“We got witnesses who say he was taken by Slick, he was alive but looked injured. No word, no sign. We’re lookin’ and we’l keep lookin’,” he promised me.

I felt his words slice through me like a knife.

Eddie’s hand went into my hair and, very gently, he pressed the uninjured side of my head against him.

“I’m okay,” I lied, looking up at him.

He looked down.

“You’re so ful of shit.”

That got him a grin.

* * * * *

He took me to his place, helped me undress and stepped into the shower with me. He turned me away from the spray and used the showerhead on me, and, careful to avoid the dressing at my temple, he shampooed the blood out of my hair. We patted ourselves dry, I combed out my hair and Eddie put me to bed na**d and held me tight. After awhile, his warmth seeped into me and I started to feel safe again.

“I’m worried about Dad,” I whispered as if I was admitting to a grave sin. “I know I shouldn’t be but I am.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he replied, his voice gentle and, I swear, maybe even a little bit affectionate (or maybe even a lot).

I lay there awhile, suddenly feeling even warmer.

“Eddie?”

“Sí, mi amor?”

“I’ve got to tel you something and you have to promise me you won’t get mad.”

He was silent.

“Promise?”

He sighed. “You’re kil in’ me,” he muttered.

I pressed into him. “You have to promise.”

“I promise.”

He may have promised but he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

I told him what happened, in detail, with Vince and Mace.

He listened without making a single noise but his body got more and more tense.

Then I told him about the kiss and he went total y stil .

“It was just… not what you think… it was, I don’t even know what it was. Mace told me not to say anything but—” Eddie interrupted me.

“Mace’s sister was murdered while Mace was forced to watch. Got her head blown off. Shot to the temple.” It was my turn to go total y stil while I felt my blood run cold.

Eddie went on, “Probably not fun to relive and probably worth a kiss from you when the ending was different.” I couldn’t help it, it was the flashbacks that kept entering my head, it was the ugly knowledge of why Mace was pissed off al the time, I burst into tears.

Eddie stroked my back and spoke softly to me in Spanish until, final y, I stopped crying and the adrenalin subsided. I started to get drowsy and snuggled deeper into him.

Right before I fel asleep, he said quietly, “Tomorrow, we need to have a chat.”

“I thought we were chatting,” I mumbled, half-asleep.

“This isn’t a lyin’-in-bed-naked-after-getting-a-gunshot-wound-to-the-head kind of chat. This is a wide-awake-and-listen-to-Eddie kind of chat.”

Dear Lord.

Not another one of those.

I suppose if I could survive being held at gunpoint, I could survive a listen-to-Eddie chat.

On that thought, I fel asleep.

Chapter Twenty-One

The G-word Turns into the W-word

(Um...Eek!)

The alarm went off, Eddie touched a button and rol ed into me.

I tensed, waiting for him to throw back the covers and drag me out of bed.

Instead he pul ed my back to his front and asked softly,

“How’s your head?”

I did a ful -body scan. My knees hurt, my head hurt and my entire body felt stiff. On the other hand, I was breathing and not locked in a scary, sideways refrigerator at the morgue so I figured I was feeling pretty good.

In answer I said, “I cannot believe I have to get shot for you to hit the snooze button.”

His body went stil .

“Can we make a deal?” he asked, his voice stil quiet.

I wasn’t awake enough to make a deal with Eddie but was also not feeling like arguing.

“Maybe,” I said, thinking that was a good compromise.

“The deal is that was the last joke we’l make about you gettin’ shot.”

My breath caught and I held it.