Page 20 of Undercover Star
Chapter Six
The doctor was waitingfor them when the limo pulled into the secure car park under Matisse's apartment building. He was a round, jovial man, not given to drama, and Josh was grateful for small mercies. Dr. Cavour was equally brisk about dealing with the wound in Josh's side. Barely two inches long and not too deep, the cut didn't need stitches. Half a dozen steristrips did the trick just fine.
"I'm sorry they called you out for something so minor, Doctor."
"Better safe than sorry, Inspector. At least we didn't give the press the satisfaction of seeing Matisse drag you into the A&E. Which he would have. And he'd have made a total nuisance of himself, believe me."
The doctor sounded as if he spoke from experience. "You've seen it happen?"
"You bet. Matisse hates it when others take the heat for him. Remember that, next time." He closed his case and went to wash his hands, while Josh contemplated the idea of there ever being anext timeof anything between him and Matisse.
When Matisse came back into the living room after seeing the doctor out, he'd changed out of the blue and gold suit. The makeup was gone, too, and he'd pulled his hair back into a messy tail. His all-black getup — tight jeans and an even tighter muscle tee — made his pallor more pronounced.
"Are you okay?"
Matisse drew a deep breath, and when he spoke, he grated the words through his teeth. "I'm fine. I'm not the one who got stabbed."
"I didn't either," Josh reiterated. "It was a shallow slice. Didn't even need stitches."
"That isn't making me feel any better. I was trying to keep your thief from leaving. I was the one who— You shouldn't have stepped in front of me and—"
Thatwas what had Matisse worried? Josh needed a moment to remind himself of the doctor's words. "You're saying I should have let him stab you? Is that what I'm hearing? You didn't even know he had a knife. I know you can wiggle your arse with the best of them, but you wouldn't have gotten out of the way quickly enough and he'd have done real damage. To you, nitwit!"
"Yes, and it would've been fair. I was winding him up."
"Fair? Where the fuck was it fair that my boss roped you into my mess? And while we're having this discussion: Why the fuck didn't you tell me he was there? Before he took the fucking cross!"
Matisse flushed, all the way from his neck to his hairline. "I forgot I was wired. Okay?"
"You forgot."
"Yes, I forgot. I'm used to being watched. I'm so used to earphones, I don't even notice wearing them, but I usually don't talk. I didn't think—"
"That much is fucking obvious."
Matisse wanted to retaliate. Josh could see it. He braced for it, but Matisse swallowed the words. Wise of him, because Josh was seething. His gamble had paid off. The thief had turned up when Josh was right there and waiting. In four years, he'd never gotten so close to the man. He couldn't lose his momentum now. He simply couldn't. "Tell me what happened," he requested. "From the moment you saw him."
Matisse explained how he'd spotted the thief, leaving Josh impressed despite himself. He'd been standing post in the entrance hall and he'd not picked the man out among the mingling guests.
"He took the cross, turned around, and made for the stairs. I thought I could try to slow him down until you could come and arrest him. I came up on him like this." Matisse demonstrated the move with matchsticks on the coffee table. "I bumped into him and made him spill his champagne, so I could apologise and fuss and get him a new flute and—"
