She extended a warning hand and put a finger to her lips before Dwayne had a chance to speak and pointed to the kitchen.
“In there.”
When they stepped through the door, she whirled on him and whispered, “Amber’s asleep. Where in heck have you been all this time? I’m ready for a big dose of Prozac!” She raised an accusing finger. “You charge out of here shouting orders like I was one of your workmen,” another finger up, “leave me in charge of your child,” a third finger, “you don’t call,” fourth finger shook in his face, “because you left your phone here, you…oh, holy goats! You’re bleeding, Dempsey. Are you all right?” She touched his cheek.
“Yeah.” He blew out a breath and nodded. “Sorry. I need to sit down and get off my leg.”
Without waiting for her reply, he brushed past her. Marla pressed a hand against the back of her neck and dogged his limping steps. More than his face had been hurt. Something happened to his leg.
She hurried to the sink, wet the dishtowel in cold water, wrung it out, and pressed it against his cheek. “Were you in an accident?”
“No, a battle. We caught some losers red-handed, stealing our tools and equipment.”
“We?” Marla lifted the wet towel to look at the cut on his cheekbone. She sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth. “Who’s we?”
“Me, Cluny, Slim, and Jack. We got there just ahead of the cops.” He chuckled, and that brought on a wince of pain. “Miss Emmaline called them when she heard my car alarm, then she jumped into the middle of the fight and gave one of those bastards a good beat-down with a broom.”
“She did?” Her eyes grew wide with surprise. “Were those the men I saw? How’d they get in? Where was Hercules?”
“His handler brings him over just before dark. He works the night shift. We never thought anybody’d try to rip us off in broad daylight.” He grasped his left leg just below the knee. “Dammit! Will you do me a favor and grab those crutches by the front door?”
Marla pressed the towel against his cheek. “This town is going down the tubes. Did those thieves get arrested?”
“Youch! Take it easy.” He leaned back to ease up the pressure. “The cops took them in. All but a guy in a blue car who was probably their lookout. He hauled ass right after the fight started.”
“Sorry, you probably need a couple of stitches. Shall I take you to the ER?”
“No, it’s only a scratch. Just bring the crutches, please. I need to get my weight off this leg and take my pants off so I can have a look at it.”
“Keep the towel pressed there while I get them.”
When she retrieved the crutches and handed them over, he dropped the towel and struggled to his feet. She sighed with relief that the bleeding on his face had stopped.
Dwayne thumped down the hallway in the direction of his bedroom. She followed.
“I’m gonna drop my pants, Danaher. You might want to stay out.”
She huffed and stepped in front of him to open the bedroom door. “I’ve seen men’s underwear before, Dempsey. I have two brothers I practically raised on my own.”
“In case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m not your brother.”
“Shut up. I couldn’t care less about how you look in your underpants. I want to make sure I don’t need to get you medical help.”
“Your call.”
Leaning his crutches against the bed, his back to her, Dwayne unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them below his briefs.
Marla swallowed, Oh, my. Then she brushed off her reaction to step in for a closer look. Right the first time, he isn’t my brother.
He twisted around, sat on the bedspread, and pushed his jeans below his knees.
Sharp shock took her breath away when she gaped at the prosthesis attached to his left leg. “Dwayne…what hap—?”
“Daddy?”
Marla spun around to see Amber standing in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Skipper’s toenails tapped on the floor as he trailed behind.
“I’m here, squirt. Come on in.” He pointed to his pants. “Help me pull these pants off, Okay?”
“Are your toes itching again?” Amber knelt on the floor in front of him and scratched the toe of his empty boot. “I’ll scratch ’em for you.”
Marla’s head swam, her breathing rapid and shallow. Dwayne had part of his leg missing! When had that happened? How had she not known it before now?
“They don’t itch tonight, sweet pea. I just need you to help me get this contraption off.”
“What happened, Daddy?”
“I took a spill and it’s sore. I gotta get the pressure off, that’s all.”
Without realizing she’d moved, Marla knelt beside Amber and untied the leather thongs on his right work boot. “Do you have something to put on that?”
Amber jumped to her feet. “I know where Daddy’s feel-good goop is. I’ll get it.” She ran to the bathroom. Marla heard the opening and closing of cupboard doors. She returned holding a large jar. “Here it is.”
“Thanks, honey. I’ll unhitch my gear and you can help Marla pull Daddy’s jeans off.” He undid the fasteners on the prosthesis, then leaned back on his elbows and held out his leg so Marla could haul his right boot off.
Amber tugged the prosthesis free from his left pant leg, and then together they pulled on the hem of his jeans.
Dwayne exhaled. “Jeez, what a relief. This thing hurts like a son-of-a-gun.” He sat straight, hooked his hand under his right knee, twisted sideways, and lifted it so both of his legs rested on the bed. He tugged off the gel-sock covering the stump. It flamed red with an angry bruise slashed across the area above and below his knee where the brace had been attached.
He reached for the jar, but Amber held out of his reach. “I can do it.”
Marla’s heart banged against her ribs. She stared
