“Didn't you tell me to put that in?”
She shook her head. “I'm sure I— Maybe I did. I was so tired.”
“That's an understatement. You were exhausted.”
“It's hard to remember. It looks right. . . .”
“I can take it out.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Let me think about it.”
“Whatever you say.” He took the sketches from her. “I'll set them up against the wall. I put your camera over on that chair. I'd like you to take some shots of the sketches before we turn them over to Galen.”
She nodded. “Good idea.” She moved across the room. “I still think we should give the sketches to Leopold. You may trust this Galen, but I don't.”
“Well, then you'll have the photographs, won't you? Galen has contacts in areas that Leopold doesn't know exist. Logan has had him working on gathering information since your friend Sarah's shooting.”
“Then I assume he's a criminal too?”
“Not exactly.” He finished setting up the sketches. “No Leopold. Lester's demise will make things very difficult for me with the authorities. It doesn't matter that he was a scumbag and a murderer. It wouldn't matter that he tried to kill you. I'm the one who'd land in jail for a year or two while I waited for the courts to get around to me. They don't understand vigilante justice.”
“Neither do I.” She focused on the first sketch. “You could have called the police instead of killing Lester.”
“Too much red tape. People get killed wading through red tape.”
She shook her head.
“Look at it this way. Suppose you could have run across an associate of one of those kamikaze pilots in the ruins of the World Trade Center. Would you have called the police and trusted that the courts would kill him for you?”
Smoke, tears, pain, and helpless rage.
She took the picture. “It's not the same thing.”
“Anything that strikes at the heart is always the exception to the rules we make for ourselves. Remember how you felt in that moment?”
“Every day. Every minute.” She took the final photograph and turned away. “I'm finished. You can package the sketches to give to your friend.”
“Does that mean you're resigned to letting me help you get these assholes?”
“It appears you've already gotten one of them.”
“That's an evasion.”
She met his gaze. “I'm not resigned to anything. I don't trust you. You told me I'd find a use for you and I did. If you had let me go, Leopold could have arranged for me to have a session with a police artist. I don't owe you anything.”
“I didn't say you did. I'm the one who has a debt to pay off.” He shrugged. “And it makes me uncomfortable. The sooner I get rid of it, the better.”
“Take me back to Denver and we'll call it even. I don't want your help and I certainly don't want your company.”
“Do you suppose you can put up with it while I check that wound? You can't do it yourself yet.”
She opened her mouth to tell him no and then closed it. She sat down in the chair and opened his shirt that she wore as a pajama top. “Why not? You're responsible for it.”
“That's what I like, a heart full of forgiveness.” He unwound the bandage and lifted the pad. “The doctor did a good job. Very neat stitches. Couldn't have done better myself.”
“You're a doctor as well as an artist?” she asked mockingly. “Amazing.”
“Don't be ugly. I'm a man of many talents. I wouldn't have liked the job of extracting the splinters and cleaning out this wound, but I've had enough battlefield experience to sew you up.”
She wished she hadn't let him touch her. Her flesh was tingling beneath his fingers. Not as it had in the stairwell at the hotel. There was no comfort, no security this time. It was . . . sensual . . . disturbing.
He must have felt the tension, because his gaze shifted to her face. His hands became still for an instant before he put a clean pad on the wound. “Looks like it's healing pretty well now.” He wrapped the bandage over her shoulder. “Be sure you keep taking those antibiotics and pain pills.”
“Of course. I'm not a masochist.” She buttoned up the shirt. “I'm going to get well as quickly as I can.”
“So that you can avenge yourself on me as well as the bad guys?”
“It's hard to distinguish between you.” She moved toward the bedroom. “I'm going to take another nap. Wake me when Galen gets here.”
“I will. I wouldn't cheat you of the opportunity to meet him. He's truly an original.”
And so was Judd Morgan, she thought as she closed the door. Hard as a diamond and just as brilliant, every facet shimmering with power and deception.