Page 6 of Up in a Blaze
I started the car, pulled out, and drove off while wondering if I was doing the right thing.
I could just drive him to the hospital and drop him off.
“Don’t even think about it,” the beast warned.
Scowling over at him for a moment, I cursed at him in French.
The man snorted before he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Henri. You?”
“Blaze.”
Rolling my eyes, I pulled into my driveway and looked around. It was late, and no one seemed about. When I looked back at the man, I said, “You could just say you would prefer not to tell me your name instead of lying.”
“I ain’t lying. Grandfather’s name was Blaze after the poet and writer Blaže Koneski.” He blinked slowly at me. “Why the fuck did I tell you that?”
“Relax, la bête. I do not spread secrets.” Just my legs, and if he wasn’t an asshole bleeding all over my car, I would have given him a chance.
Maybe.
“Let’s get you inside before you pass out.”
“I won’t,” he grumbled.
Muttering under my breath about the foolish, sexy man, I got out of the car and went around to his side to assist him. I searched our surroundings as we slowly made our way to the front door.
Once in the living room, I asked, “Can you stand there for a moment?”
When he grunted, I raced off to grab my sewing kit and first aid box, as well as the shower curtain in the downstairs bathroom that I yanked off its rail. I was not letting him ruin my couch.
I lay the curtain down on the seat and told him, “Sit.”
Surprisingly, he did without a word, and then he managed to lead me through removing the bullet, stitching him up, and covering his wound before he passed out.
Sitting back on my knees, I stared at the half-naked man before me. It had to hurt when I patched him up, but he hadn’t cursed at me or threatened me in any way.
I could call for help now. The police. An ambulance, since I wasn’t sure I did a good enough job. What happened if it became infected? How would he get antibiotics?
Should I pick the brain of my neighbor who had been on the force but had retired ten years ago?
Sighing, I stood and removed all the mess. Before I cleaned myself up, I placed a few towels down on the couch and kind of pushed and shoved Blaze down to pull the curtain out from under him. With a lot of cursing and grunting, I picked up his tree-trunk legs and placed them along the couch so he was lying flat.
Why did I help him?
I could have walked away.
Then again, I liked helping. I liked knowing I was able to do something.
Taking a smaller cushion, I placed it under his head and took the throw blanket off the back of the couch to rest over him.
“What am I thinking leaving a man in my house?” I asked myself. He could kill me. Obviously, he’d done something that someone didn’t like since they hurt him. With unease, I placed the curtain in the washing machine and grabbed a spare from the linen closet to hang.
I took one look at my guest before walking out of the room to lock the front door. Once upstairs in my bedroom, I showered quickly in my en suite. I would usually slip under the sheets naked, but I dressed in sleep clothes. I made sure my phone had enough charge in case I needed to call for help. Though, I already had a feeling I wouldn’t. He could have lashed out at any time or left, but there was some part of me that thought he wanted to stay. He wanted my help and company.
Or I could be reading it all wrong and die through the night.
After that charming thought, it took me a while to get to sleep. When I woke six hours later, I gasped, remembering my guest downstairs.
