When we finally got to my apartment, I grabbed Rose’s bag out of the car and hurried her into the apartment. I opened the door and knew the place wasn’t exactly company ready. But fuck it, I wasn’t meant to have company over right now either.
At least my room was cleaned up thanks to Tommy and Aton’s other goon.
Fucking Tommy.
I thought about him under the hood, setting up wires and explosives.
“This is my place,” I said. “I don’t know if we’re actually safe here. But it’s better than being out on the street.”
“I guess.”
I dropped Rose’s bag and walked toward the table. I took off my leather jacket and dropped it on the table. I made a line for the bathroom and took off my shirt.
My shoulder felt worse than it actually looked. There was a good chunk of skin cut, oozing blood, but there wasn’t a bullet lodged inside me. I probably needed stitches, but my career choice didn’t come with a health plan. There was living and there was dying. That was it.
I grabbed a towel and touched my shoulder, wincing. It damn stung like hot fire. I wetted the towel and dabbed the wound. One thing about being a fighter I always had bandages hanging around. I opened the bathroom sink cabinet and grabbed bandages, tape, and some antibacterial spray that was going to hurt like fuck.
I put everything on the sink and looked at my reflection.
You damn fool, Wes. You goddamn fool.
I grabbed the antibacterial spray and bit the cap off. I spit it into the trashcan.
“Nice shot.”
I turned and saw Rose standing in the doorway.
Christ, she was naturally beautiful. She didn’t need blood red lipstick, hairspray, or anything fancy to wear. Standing right there with her hair let down, no makeup on, and in a t-shirt and jeans, she was driving me damn mad.
I saved her and I had no clue why. I had no reason why. Now we were both in trouble.
“What?” I asked.
“Let me help,” she whispered. “I know what to do.”
“You have experience with bullet wounds?”
“Actually, I do. And knife wounds. And fighting wounds.”
I raised an eyebrow. Who in the hell are you, sweetie?
I dropped my hand from my shoulder and stood there, leaning against the sink. Rose stepped into the bathroom and touched my arm. I felt my dick ache in my jeans. Had I really been reduced to this? One picture of a beautiful woman and I suddenly become some kind of vigilante savior. Worse yet, Aton wanted Rose’s car to explode. He wanted her dead. But she wasn’t dead. She was alive, in my bathroom, and she was opening a bandage to put on my shoulder.
“Do you want me to sit down?” I asked.
“That would be nice,” she whispered.
I stepped to the side and sat on the toilet. Now I had Rose looking down at me. Her hair falling forward, letting me catch a little smell of her bed, of sleep, hints of her shampoo. She carefully put the bandage on the sink. She wiped my arm again and my shoulder jumped.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “You didn’t pull the trigger.”
“Why were you there?” she asked.
“To check on you.”
“Still doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Maybe it’s not supposed to,” I said.
Rose looked at me. We had a couple seconds of complete silence. Staring at each other. Goddamn, it was half soothing to have someone in my apartment with me. Not just some woman for a quick go in bed and then to sleep off a few shots of whiskey. It was someone who could understand a little about my life.
“Why would your car get blown up?” I asked. “What did you do?”
Rose grabbed the antibacterial spray. “This is going to sting.”
She pressed on the top of the bottle and it sprayed all over my shoulder.
“Fuck!” I yelled and jumped up.
The spray hurt worse than getting shot. I moved forward and slammed my hand against the wall. Every muscle in my body flexed as I sucked in a breath, waiting for the pain to subside.
“I thought you were a fighter,” Rose said. “You had to have worse than that.”
I looked back at her. “Thanks for that.”
She grabbed my wrist and pulled at me. I sat back down, feeling my heart beating in my damn shoulder.
“You ignored my question,” I said.
“I know.”
“So we’re not going to get anywhere? I put my ass on the line…”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
I put a hand to her waist and pushed. She grabbed my hand but didn’t move it away. I reached up with my other hand, my shoulder burning in pain, and I touched her chin.
“I know who wanted you dead,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have done what I did for you. I now have a target on my back because of you.”
Rose swatted my hand from her face. She curled her lip at me. “Oh yeah?”
She grabbed the bandage and slapped it to my shoulder, sending pain through my entire body. She ripped at the medical tape and wrapped it around my arm. She leaned down, bit the tape, then patted my shoulder. More burning. More pain.
“There,” she said.
She turned to move and I grabbed her again. She tripped and fell back onto my lap. My hand slipped around to her stomach. I didn’t mean to do that, but I wasn’t going to fight it.