Page 79 of Dirty Love

He leads me around the car and repeats the same effort with Wilson, although his treatment is less kid-gloves, more you’re-paying-for-this-coat-you-bleeding-jerk.

The whole time, they’re grinning at each other.

No shock there.

The coats might be unusual for Vegas, but maybe we’re recent arrivals from North Dakota. And they work—nobody gives us a second look as we head upstairs.

We go to Wilson’s room, and Tag heads up to my suite to get my stuff.

“What’s going to happen?” I ask Wilson as I help him out of his coat, and then remove my own.

He winces as he checks himself out on the bathroom mirror. “Depends what kind of a case they have on Spencer. They’ll both be charged with kidnapping. There might be some organized crime charges as well.”

“And the stuff you set up?”

He shrugs. “Most of it will fall away. They don’t care about illegal gambling when there are bigger charges to lay.”

From the hallway, the click of the lock sounds, and I jump.

He shoots me a worried look. “It’s just Tag.”

I nod. Gonna be a while before I can hear that sound again.

He raises his voice as his colleague moves my stuff in. “Tag, I could use a pair of scissors in here. And tweezers.”

“Got the whole med kit for you.” Tag appears in the doorway.

Two big guys and a lot of blood. The bathroom is suddenly very small. “I’m going to lie down on the bed,” I say weakly, and Wilson moves to follow me. “I’m fine. Just…let him doctor you up.”

I stretch out on the bed and let my head swim as I listen to them talk about steri strips and antibiotic ointment versus stitches.

“Let me see the rest of you,” Tag says, and Wilson laughs.

“Get the fuck out. I’m fine. Tabitha can help me.”

“I’m not sure she’s in any shape to do anything,” his partner says.

I scowl. Screw that. I push off the bed and peel off my own torn shirt before stopping in the bathroom doorway. “I heard my name?”

Tag does a double-take at my tits.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Jason’s seen the entire thing. Ask him about my tattoo.”

“Don’t ask him about anything,” Wilson says, pulling me in as he shoves Tag out. He’s half-naked, and he looks like Bjorn Ironside, the kid on Vikings who grew up between seasons two and three in a serious way. Bloodied and muscled and perfect, his baby face all fierce and possessive. “What?”

“You look like the guy on Vikings,” I say with a small smile.

“Ragnar?”

As the bathroom door closes, I hear Tag laughing. “Pretty sure she means the blond kid, but sure, Ragnar!”

I lean in and whisper, “The blond kid is super hot.”

He shakes his head. “Okay.”

“Not as hot as you…Right. Focus, Tabitha. You called for a shield maiden to help you bathe?”

He grins. “I sure did.”

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