'How badly are you hurt'
'I'm actually waiting for your opinion and dreading what it might be. It happened about two weeks ago, so I'm out of danger-not stoically bleeding to death or anything. But I've got some marks on me. There's one that will be at least big and ugly forever, and might even make me limp.'
'Okay,' he said. 'I'm about through waiting in suspense.'
'I've been dreading your seeing me, and being disgusted or something.'
'Hold on to your drink.' He put an arm around her back and the other swung to the back of her knees. He scooped her up and carried her out of the kitchen, across the living room, and then to the stairway. He carried her upstairs to the bedroom and set her on her feet.
'The service around here is slipping,' she said. 'I almost spilled my drink.'
'Disrobe, please.'
'You have some nerve.'
'This isn't funny. Do it.'
She took another sip and set her drink on his dresser, then turned and unbuttoned her blouse, and took it off. She looked into his eyes, and kept looking at them as he bent lower to examine her stomach and ribs.
'Some bad bruises.' He turned her around so he could see her back, and gently touched the skin a few times. 'And what the hell Those are burns. How did you get burned'
'They heated some skewers, the kind you might use for shish kebab. They were trying to make me tell them where Shelby was.'
'Somebody tortured you Tortured you Who did that to you'
'Enemies of Shelby's, who didn't want him to escape.' She felt his arms circle her waist to come around and undo her belt. Her slacks fell to her ankles and she stepped out of them. She reached for her drink and took another sip, then put it back on the dresser.
'This is really something,' he said. From the sound of his voice, he had gone to his knees behind her. He unwrapped the bandage on her thigh. 'That's an exit wound. Who shot you' He turned her around again to look closely at the entrance wound in the front of her thigh.
She looked down at him. 'I can tell you he was no gentleman,' she said.
'Stop, Jane. I told you, this isn't striking me as funny.'
'Okay. One of the same men. They were pretending to be cops. When I realized they weren't, I tried to get away, so one of them shot me.'
'And who sewed you up and dressed this Some old mob doctor who doesn't report bullet wounds'
'He was young. His nurse was his girlfriend. I almost won her over to my side, but she was smitten with him, and a little stupid. The doctor was kind of angry. It was as if he agreed to treat a gunshot, and only after he got there realized it was likely to get him in trouble-that it wasn't an accident, and the victim wasn't going to be grateful for his work and for not reporting it.'
'You probably already realized this, but he did a pretty good job. Good closure, no signs of infection, no indication there's anything inside. You were also very lucky. The bullet didn't hit bone or sever the femoral artery. It was a clean through-and-through shot. I'm sure he told you that. It's just a question of the muscle having time to heal now.' He rewrapped the bandage. 'I want you to tell me who did this.'
Jane stared at him. She could see he actually intended to go find the men who had hurt her. 'You can't do anything to him, Carey. He's dead.' She paused. 'The other one is dead, too.' She didn't take her eyes off Carey. She could see that she must not let Carey know that the third one, Wylie, was alive. He lowered his eyes and glowered at a spot on the floor.
'You haven't told me what I want to know,' she said.
'What's that'
'I guess it's, `Do you love me''
'This is a lousy time to ask that question. I'm damned furious at you for putting yourself in the position to have this happen to you. But that doesn't change the situation between us-either the bad parts or the good. I love you.' He paused, as though he dreaded what was coming next. 'Anything I'm not seeing Is this the extent of it'
'Yes.'
He took a deep breath, irritated that he had to be more specific. 'Were you sexually assaulted'
'No. Maybe they would have, but they were very interested in finding Jim Shelby, and everything they did was intended to make me say where he was. Then I got away.'
'I guess you didn't tell them where he was.'
'No, he's still alive and relatively well.' She frowned. 'You still didn't really give me my answer.'
'About what'
She put her hands on his shoulders. 'Look at me. Do you think I'm ugly now'
'No. You're beautiful. I'm just upset at what you put yourself through. And I'm really angry. You don't have the right to marry somebody and then, whenever a stranger knocks on your door, run off and act like some kind of amateur police force. You told me that crap was over years ago.'
'Yes, I did,' she said. 'I thought it was. But then one day somebody comes to your door and says, `My brother, who is innocent, is about to be murdered in prison.' You have only two choices. All you can be is the person who decided to keep him alive, or the person who decided not to. For the rest of your life, that's who you'll be. I decided I would be the one who did.'
'No matter what it cost.' He looked at her from head to toe. 'Well, as I said, you're lucky this time. What you were apparently most worried about didn't happen. Your body is still beautiful and healthy, and with time, you'll be about the same as before.'
'Thanks, Doc,' she said. Then she waited for a few seconds, looked down at herself and then at him. 'Are you even just a little bit turned on'
He nodded, but grudgingly.
She unhooked her bra, shrugged it off, slipped her panties down and stepped out of them. 'Then I'd hate to have all this nakedness and hard liquor go to waste.'
He frowned. 'I'm sorry, Jane. I don't think this is a good time.' He walked to the door, then turned. 'Let's get a night's sleep, and then talk in the morning.' He walked down the hall.
After a few more seconds she heard him go down the staircase. There were the familiar sounds of Carey checking the locks on the doors and setting the alarm. She showered, brushed her teeth, and got into bed with the light on. She waited an hour for him to come back upstairs, but when she heard his tread coming back up, he went to one of the other bedrooms. She turned off the light and went to sleep.
Later, when the night was at its darkest and the birds in the trees outside the old stone house had not yet begun the predawn chirping, she was aware of him. He was standing in the doorway, silent and motionless. She said, 'If you're staring at me, you must have eyes like a cat.'
'I'm looking. Can't see you, though. You had sort of an intriguing idea before.'
'I thought you said it wasn't the right time.'
'It wasn't.'
'And now it is'
'If the offer is still open.'
'Always,' she said.
14.
Jane had been at home for ten days. She spent her evenings and nights with Carey at home in the big old stone McKinnon house in Amherst, New York. To her it was a bit like a honeymoon, a vacation from reality that had turned into a lazy enjoyment of the man she had married. This was not what she had intended in coming home, but she had felt that way the minute she had been in the kitchen with him the first night.
She knew the strength of her reaction to him and this taste of life was partly caused by the fact that she had never expected to be here again. After a few days with Wylie, Maloney, and Gorman, she had relinquished any thought of seeing Carey again. She had become like the old-time warriors, the Grandfathers. All she had hoped for was a chance to fight her enemies at the end-to snatch one of the tools of torture or an unguarded weapon and stab or slash until they overpowered and killed her. After she had become used to that idea and then escaped, even feeling the warmth of sunlight on her face had become a complex and delicious sensation. She had resigned herself
