Page 110 of Protecting What's Mine
“Understood.”
She grabbed the papers and returned to the kitchen. “Okay. Here’s your instructions. If you have any questions or have trouble changing the dressing, you know where to find me. Your prescription is ready at the pharmacy over on Main.”
He looked down at his bandaged arm then back at her. When he rose, he held out his hand.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, shaking it.
“Agree to disagree?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
She followed him to the front door. “Abner, sometimes family loyalty means letting your family figure things out for themselves.”
He paused and looked at her and then the deputy. “Maybe so. But even if you convince some of us, it don’t mean you’ll convince all of us.”
Deputy Tahir didn’t like that. But Mack took it for what it was. Not a threat but a warning.
“I understand.”
He started down the walk, the paper and a baggie of gauze and tape in one hand. He stopped and called out, “Don’t forget to bring your car in for that oil change.”
Abner pulled away from her house and made it around the corner before the BFD chief’s vehicle came to a screaming stop in her driveway. The very pissed off Linc didn’t bother turning off the engine or closing the door. He was too busy storming toward her.
“You might need those handcuffs,” Mack warned the deputy.
“Honey, you better believe it.”
“What in the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, rushing her.
“I was thinking the man was no threat and he had a wound that needed cleaned.”
Linc spun away from her and took a cleansing breath. Then another.
“Linc?”
He held up a finger over his shoulder. “Need a minute or I’m gonna say something stupid that you’ll hold against me.”
She understood and appreciated the restraint.
“I’ll wait,” she said quietly.
Deputy Tahir rolled her eyes at their antics.
Linc turned around and pressed his palms together in front of his chest. “Mackenzie.”
“Yes?”
“I would really appreciate it if you would walk me through your decision-making when it comes to bringing a Kersh into your house and letting him threaten you.”
There was a tic in his jaw that fascinated her, and he sounded as if he was being strangled.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” she began. His face softened a degree. “But it’s not your place—”
He was back to hard and angry and was shaking his head.
“Uh-uh. Nope. You don’t get to tell me that I don’t get to worry about you. I care about you, Dreamy.”
