Page 343 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Bren.” She looks up at me and her eyes widen as she sees the blood. “Let me?—”
“I’ll take care of this, Em,” Mac interjects. “Could you let your daddy know that Bren’s okay but I’m going to take her upstairs and get her in a bath? If you could make us some hot chocolate with a spoonful of sugar in it, I’d really appreciate it.”
Emily nods and hands the roll of paper towels to Mac. Eyes popping, she scurries back down the hallway.
Mac kneels next to me and guides my right hand to his shoulder. “Hold on to me, sweetheart. This will only take a second.” I hear a metallic snick and feel a tugging on my Docs, but I can’t see what he’s doing as he bends over my feet. He balls up a wad of paper towels and presses them against my heel as he eases the Doc off my right foot. Then he does the same with the left. He swishes each boot in the bucket before he towels them off and sets them in the row of shoes by the coat rack.
“Okay, talented shoes taken care of. Let’s get you upstairs.”
“I love you more than those shoes right now,” I say, hearing my voice as though someone else is speaking. It definitely wasn’t me telling Mac I love him.
Mac chuckles. “Glad I rank above the shit-kickers at last. Let me take your coat.”
He slips it off my shoulders and I have a disoriented moment where I can’t figure out how the jacket got back on me. I’m sure I took it off to fight. Did I put it back on? When? Then Mac’s sliding his arm around my shoulders again and guiding me upstairs and I stop worrying about my jacket.
He undresses me while the bath fills. There’s more blood on my baby blue sweater, which pisses me off. I love that sweater.If there’s blood on my yoga pants, I can’t see it against the black fabric. “Am I bleeding?” I ask Mac stupidly.
He strokes my cheek as he helps me take off my bra. “Not that I can see, sweetheart. Did you make the motherfuckers bleed?”
I nod. “I think I tore his ear. It was a good kick. Kru would have been happy with me. And I never let my guard down.”
“Good job, girl. Do you want to call him and tell him what happened?”
Do I? Somehow that seems better than telling Mac. Kru won’t ever think I’m a victim. “Yes, Sir.”
“Okay, let’s get you in the bath and then you can give him a call. Do you have his number in your phone?”
I nod. It’s respectful to let him know when I’m coming to class and I always text him first.
“Good girl.” Mac takes my hand and helps me step into Logan’s huge, claw-footed tub. Like so much of Logan’s house, the thing is dated but not really an antique. Although I’d never tell Logan, his house makes me feel comfortable. Being around antiques gives me an attack of the clumsies. I stay clear of the library and smoking lounge at Blunts because they’re full of vases and spindly little tables and glass cases that look like they’ll flinch and shatter all by themselves at the first loud noise. Nothing at Logan’s house looks or feels breakable. It’s all old but sturdy.
“I like it here,” I tell Mac.
“I do, too, sweetheart,” Mac says, kneeling next to the tub. He strips off his T-shirt in that hot guy, over the head motion, and I drool dazedly over his shoulders and chest while he lathers up a sponge and begins drizzling hot, soapy water over my throat and chest.
I slump back against the end of the tub. It’s padded. Comfortable, just like the rest of Logan’s house.
Mac cleans my face then rinses out the sponge before running it down my arms. He cleans off both hands and I see the first and second knuckles of my left hand are dark red and puffy.
While I’m staring at my bruised knuckles, there’s a knock on the door. “Mac, it’s me.” Logan’s voice.
“C’mon in.”
Logan walks in, carrying two steaming mugs and with a huge, blue terrycloth robe folded over his arm. He sets everything down on the counter around the sink and leans a hip against it.
“Need any help?” he asks softly.
“Nope,” Mac says. “She’s coming around slowly. Just shock and an adrenaline crash, I think. None of the blood’s hers but she needs an ice pack for her hand when you have a minute.”
“No problem. Who d’you think I should be calling?”
“Not sure yet. Bren wants to call her kickboxing Kru and tell him what happened. Might have a better idea after that.”
“Okay. Anything else you need?”
“I think we’re good here. Maybe another hot chocolate with a shot of whiskey in it if she doesn’t perk up, but let’s get the first one in her. The sugar alone might bring her around.”
“Right-o,” Logan says. “Shout if you need me.”
