Who the hell was Eugene? Matt tuned in his senses but failed to hear any footsteps. A couple argued several blocks away about who should drive home. They both slurred their words, so neither should drive.
Matt released the woman and forced his feet to move toward his bike. He’d lost too much blood. “Do you mind if I park my bike inside? I’d hate for anybody to steal my baby.”
She chuckled. “In Charmed, Idaho? Nobody will take your big motorcycle.” Yet she opened the doorway wide. “You can park just inside to the left.”
He rolled the bike inside a small storage room holding toiletries and cleaning supplies. “What’s your name?”
“Laney.” She locked the door and gestured him toward a doorway. “Let’s get you that aspirin.”
He stalked through another storage room that held all types of alcohol to a bar. A sports bar with widescreens, pool tables, and dart boards. He glanced down at Laney. “You work at a bar?”
He’d figured her for a yoga instructor or a teacher. Not a barmaid.
She gently pushed him onto a wooden chair by a worn table. “I own a bar.” Her pretty pink lips turned down as she glanced at his demolished T-shirt.
“Oh.” He frowned. The woman was much too delicate to be closing a bar by herself. Whoever the hell Eugene was, he needed a beating for leaving her alone at night like this.“By yourself?”
She lifted a shoulder while walking behind the bar and returning with a first-aid kit. “My brother and I owned it together.” Her eyes remained down.
He understood that kind of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Laney.”
She blinked and met his gaze with those amazing green eyes. “Me, too.” Taking a deep breath, she straightened. “Let’s see what you did to yourself.”
He gingerly tugged off his shirt.
Her cheeks slid from rosy to stark white in seconds. Emerald flashed when her eyes opened wide. “You’re really bleeding.” Then her eyelids fluttered, and she swayed.
He caught her one-handed before she hit the floor.
What the hell?
Easily picking her up, he glanced around the bar. The booths were circular at an odd angle, and the chairs were hard. He could either place her on the bar or on a pool table. Gently, he lay her on a pool table, warmed by how nicely she fit against him. Indulging himself, he removed her hair clip and allowed the curls to tumble free.
He’d been without a woman much too long.
Now was not the time. Yet he couldn’t help taking a moment to appreciate her classic features. Delicate and soft women were a mystery to him and something he’d only seen on television. He believed they existed but definitely steered clear.
This one? This one needed protection, and he’d have a nice talk with Eugene when the bastard finally showed up.
For now, he’d lost enough blood. Flipping open the lid of the medicine kit, he frowned. Not what he needed.
Prowling behind the bar, he searched the low shelves. Ah ha. A rusty tackle box rested in the back. Inside, he found thick fishing line and flies with hooks. Bending one, he threaded it like a needle after pouring whiskey over it to kill germs. Then he took a swig of the alcohol, allowing the potent brew to slam into his gut and center him.
Minutes later, he’d successfully sutured both wounds. The one on his upper chest took twice as long as the wide gash along his ribs. The guy who’d stabbed him knew how to use a blade.
So did he.
He glanced at the pretty woman on the pool table. How long did a faint last, anyway? Then the phone behind the bar caught his attention. He slapped long pads across his wounds and reached for the phone to dial in a series of numbers.
“Swippy’s Pool Hall,” a man answered.
“Deranged Duck 27650,” Matt said.
Several beeps echoed across the line as it was secured. Finally, silence ensued.
“Where the hell are you?” his brother growled.
Matt wiped a hand down his face. Shane sounded worried. “I’m in place. Had some trouble in Texas, however.”
“What kind of trouble?” Shane asked, computer keys clacking across the line.
“Jumped by four men—well trained. They found me in Dallas as I was heading out here.” How had the damn commander found him in Texas? He’d only been there a week to gather intel on the woman he’d been searching for.
“No mention of a problem on any police forces or news outlets.” Shane sighed. “They covered the scene up quickly.”
Which meant the commander had new resources in the government. Terrific. “Are you sure the woman is here?” Matt asked.
“Yes. We finally traced her to Charmed, but we don’t know who she is. I’ve narrowed it down to a surgeon at the hospital, a veterinarian, or the coroner’s assistant.” Shane clicked more keys. “My money is on the coroner.”
The woman he hunted had been a top-rated surgeon before disappearing and hiding. Chances were she was still cutting into people. Most surgeons couldn’t let go of playing God. “I’ll boot up my laptop tonight and have you send me the files.” His gaze caught on a Help Wanted sign in the window. “I may have just found my cover while in town.”