Home > Twice Bitten (Argeneau #27)(16)

Twice Bitten (Argeneau #27)(16)
Author: Lynsay Sands

“Who stabbed you and where?”

Wyatt’s question drew her attention back to him and she grimaced. “It was during work. I was checking out a tip and encountered a mentally ill man. He attacked his wife and then stabbed me when I rushed to help her.”

“I meant where on your person were you stabbed?” he said grimly. “There was blood on your car seat.”

“Oh.” She grimaced, but admitted, “He stabbed me in the lower left side of my back, and slashed my left leg.”

His gaze immediately slid to her side, but of course he couldn’t see anything through her clothes and jacket. Even if she’d been sitting there naked there wouldn’t have been much to see. When she’d got up that evening the wound had healed to the point that it was a large, dark, ugly scar. She’d needed more blood for the healing to continue. Elspeth could feel it happening again now that she’d had more blood. It was like someone was repeatedly jabbing her with a handful of needles in the spot. Most unpleasant, and she was holding herself very still to try to keep from flinching or otherwise give away that she was in pain.

“And you aren’t in the hospital because . . . ?” he asked dryly.

“Because it was just a flesh wound, a scratch, really,” she lied. Actually, it had been pretty bad. Were she mortal she would have bled out within minutes. Fortunately, she wasn’t mortal.

Elspeth glanced at Wyatt and saw that he was shaking his head. Scowling, she asked, “What?”

“I didn’t realize your job was so dangerous,” he admitted, his gaze on his glass as he turned it on the countertop. “Gran made it sound like your position was mostly analytical. A desk job.”

“It is,” Elspeth said, and glanced toward G.G., wishing he’d hurry. The sooner she finished this next drink, the sooner she could get Wyatt out of there. It would have been easier if she could have slipped into his thoughts, rearranged them, and sent him back to his grandmother’s without recalling any of this, though. That idea made her turn to peer at him again to try to do just that. Nothing. She just kept coming up against a black wall of nothing. Either the man was brain dead, or—

Elspeth shied away from the “or” and smiled in gratitude at G.G. as he returned with her blood. Aware of the man beside her and the time crunch, Elspeth downed half of it at once, careful not to come away with a blood mustache afterward.

“But you got stabbed,” Wyatt pointed out. “How did you get stabbed working a desk job?”

“There are some days when stuff happens and I end up going out on calls. This morning was one of those days,” Elspeth said vaguely, and cast a pleading glance G.G.’s way, hoping he’d change the subject. He did. Just not to a subject she liked any better.

“So, what are you going to do about your mother?” he asked abruptly.

“Her mother?” Wyatt asked G.G. with interest and then turned to Elspeth. “What about your mother?”

“Nothing. She’s just a little overprotective,” she said firmly, and scowled at G.G. as she picked up her drink.

“Martine is more than a little overprotective,” G.G. told Wyatt as Elspeth drank. Apparently, he hadn’t got the silent message behind the scowl, she decided as he went on, “She’s a control freak and almost obsessive-compulsive about keeping her daughters near her. They’ve all led very sheltered lives.”

“She’s not that bad,” Elspeth countered, which was an absolute lie. Martine Argeneau Pimms wasn’t almost obsessive-compulsive about keeping her daughters near her. She was full-on, certifiably obsessive-compulsive about it.

“Really?” Wyatt asked G.G., apparently believing him over her, which was kind of ironic when you thought about it. He trusted the big tattooed bartender with a Mohawk over a clean-cut woman he believed worked for the police. Go figure.

Maybe he had trust issues with women, Elspeth thought.

“Oh, yeah,” G.G. told him. “Martine wouldn’t let them out of her sight for a minute as kids. All three girls were homeschooled until university. Never let out of the house. Never allowed friends.”

“We had our cousins,” Elspeth argued stiffly.

“Whom you saw once every couple of years or so,” G.G. said dryly.

“How do you know that?” Elspeth asked with surprise.

“Julianna,” G.G. said at once and then grinned and added, “Did you think you were the only member of your family to skip uni classes at least once a week and slip away to The Night Club to hang out with other im—club members?” he finished, catching his own slip with a grimace.

“Damn,” Elspeth breathed. It had never even occurred to her that her sisters might skip classes. It should have, she supposed. Elspeth had made a practice of signing up for an extra class every term. She’d show her mother her schedule once she got it, and then cancel the extra class. Her mother would think she was in university during that time, while she was actually at The Night Club chatting with G.G., or at a movie, or just shopping, taking time for herself. However, when G.G. had asked how she’d managed to slip away from her mother the first time they’d chatted, she’d simply said she was supposed to be in class.

She didn’t explain it now, either, but set her empty glass on the bar top and glanced to Wyatt as she slid off her stool. “We should go. You have to pick up flowers for Meredith.”

“He can go, but you’re not going anywhere, Elspeth,” G.G. said firmly, and then, picking up her empty glass, he added, “You’re looking better, but you need at least two more of these before you go anywhere.”

“Fine,” she snapped, a bit irritated at all this bossing about. It was like being with her mother. That thought made her scowl at Wyatt as she said, “I’ll have two more. But you should go before Meredith worries.”

“I called and explained things before I came in here.” He smiled like the cat that caught the canary and said, “I can keep you company while you have your power drinks.”

That brought a soft chuckle from G.G. as he moved to the other end of the bar to fetch her another “drink.”

Elspeth hesitated, wanting to just walk out and leave, but in the end, she sank back onto her stool. G.G. was right. She was feeling better, but still cramping and achy. Two more of the twenty-ounce glasses should see her right.

“Those power drinks really seem to be working,” Wyatt commented now, peering at her face. “You are looking a little better. You have more color in your cheeks. Maybe I should try one of those drinks myself.”

Elspeth’s eyes widened with alarm, and then she asked abruptly, “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation. When she gaped at him, Wyatt shrugged and said, “Look, Gran’s already been burned once by a tenant who was supposed to be a friend, and she nearly fell for that iTunes scam too. Now there’s you, who already have a key to her apartment.” Scowling, he added, “And then . . .” He paused briefly, several expressions flashing across his face, and simply said, “Once I saw the blood on your car seat I was suspicious, and followed you to make sure you weren’t up to no good.”

Elspeth stared at him. Between the expressions that had crossed his face and the way he’d hesitated, she suspected he was leaving out something. Had he overheard the argument she’d had with her mother in front of the house?

“Elspeth up to no good?” G.G. asked with amusement as he returned to place two tall blue glasses in front of her this time.

“He thinks I’m after his grandmother’s money,” Elspeth explained quietly as she picked up one of the drinks.

G.G. snorted at the suggestion. “Elspeth’s family has money. Loads of it. Besides, like I said, she’s led a pretty sheltered life. I think your grandmother’s money is safe.”

Wyatt considered G.G. briefly and said, “So, a beautiful young creature like Elspeth is really just friends with my very sweet but very old grandmother because . . . ?”

Elspeth blinked and blushed. Did he really think she was beautiful? Aware that G.G. was grinning at her reaction with amusement, she raised her glass and hid her red face by chugging down the blood he’d just brought her. Chugging was better. Elspeth wasn’t especially keen on the taste of blood. She preferred consuming it from the bag where you just popped it on your fangs and let them do the work of sucking in the red liquid. That way you didn’t have to taste it at all.

   
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