Cole clutched Hugo to her as the vet examined him. “Will he need stitches?”
“A few. And antibotics. Leave him with me overnight.”
“Only if you promise to take the best care of him. Anything he needs. He saved my life tonight.”
“He’ll have everything he needs, Officer Jamieson.” The vet patted her shoulder. “Now I insist you see about yourself, young lady.” He offered Scott a significant look over her head. “You’re bleeding all over my examining room.”
Scott had stood grimly to one side of Cole, arms folded, as Hugo was examined. Cole had insisted on bringing Hugo to the vet before she would even think about going to the hospital to be examined. But now that the vet had lifted Hugo out of her arms Scott saw with a surge of alarm that the front of her tee was soaked with blood that couldn’t be all Hugo’s.
“Damn, Jamieson. You’re hurt.”
He jerked off his windbreaker and wrapped it around her before picking her up in his arms and carrying her out to his truck.
Cole, released from worry about Hugo, snuggled in against him. “I like it when you get all angry alpha male.”
“Shut up. You’re woozy with blood loss. I can’t take advantage.” His voice was light but his expression was grim.
Scott drove to the emergency room with the same urgency he had driven to her rescue, one arm holding Cole tight against him while his cherry top flashed red through the night.
*
“Superficial wounds.” The ER doctor held Cole’s chart in his hand. “Officer Jamieson has lost blood and is in mild shock. We’re keeping her overnight but she’ll be fine.”
Scott nodded, his eyes hooded and expression nonactive. “What else?”
“We did a bit of suturing. Luckily we were able to pull in a plastics doc to do her cheek and the nose. It isn’t broken but she may want to see him again if it doesn’t heal to her liking.”
Scott swallowed. “Did he … are any of the wounds X’s?”
“Excuse me?”
Scott made two crossing slash marks with a finger.
“No, nothing like that. There’s a superficial cut down her sternum and one on her…” He paused. “Are you family?”
“Yes. Husband.” Scott doubted any of Cole’s colleagues standing nearby, who had rushed to hospital for moral support, would contradict him.
“Very well.” The doctor pulled him aside from the others before extracting a photo from the file he carried. “It looks worse than it is.”
Scott saw with the professional, detached part of his mind that the cuts on Cole’s exposed chest were superficial. Her battered face had been cleaned up. He knew the bruising and swelling would subside. But the primitive, protect-my-mate instinct was harder to convince. “Was the suspect also brought here?”
“Yes. The police brought him in first, about an hour ago. He’s suffering from a crushed leg, exhaust-pipe burns, and two serious dog bites.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping he was really hurt.”
Scott turned and walked away from the gaping gaze of the dedicated caregiver.
*
“I’ll look like Frankenstein in a bikini.”
Scott’s eyes lit up. “A bikini. There’s an image.”
Cole rolled her head on the pillow away from him, toward the window of her hospital room. After a moment, a sound suspiciously like a sob broke the silence.
“You’re not crying?” Scott’s stomach hit the floor. He came around on the other side of the bed. “Cole?”
She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
“Cole!” Her eyes opened.
He was standing over her, still wearing his clothes from the night before. He wore a navy T-shirt stained with her blood, a weary expression, wary gaze, and a heavy stubble. He scrubbed his face with a hand. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. But, dammit, I don’t care if you look like you’ve been trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I didn’t fall for a few unblemished inches of skin.”
“I’m not being vain.” Cole sucked in her lower lip and winced. It was twice its normal size.
Scott moved in beside her bed and took her hand. “You’re the most unvain person I know. Undies choice aside.” His heart did a flip when that drew a small smile from her. “So, you’ll have a few scars. Tiny scars,” he amended when she frowned. “The doctor said a plastics guy did your face. No scarring there.” He crossed his fingers out of her line of sight. “You brought down a bad guy. Helped catch puppy-mule drug smugglers. You deserve to have some proof of your courage. Would you rather have a tattoo?”
Cole watched with quiet eyes that intensified as he held her gaze. He knew she was seeing him as she first had, like he was the best man in the whole world. It scared him to see that. It was something he couldn’t live up to. But he was going to try. So help him God, he was going to try.
“You’re a good man, Agent Lucca.”