I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The living room was dark, but I could see weak sunlight peeking around the edges of my window shades. I blinked my eyes and saw pale hands hovering over me and felt a sharp pinch in the back of my hand. Cool fingers stroked my forehead, and Dick’s face appeared over me.
He was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Those vibrant green orbs were practically glowing with anger and worry and despair. With one arm, he pulled me up on the arm of the couch and propped me against some pillows so I was in a sitting position. He held a glass of water to my lips.
“Come on, Red. Come on, sweetheart. We need to get some fluids in you any way we can.”
“Fluids?” I rasped. I forced my eyes open and saw an IV pole standing next to my couch. I followed the lines from the bag of saline and another of donor blood to the IV ports in the backs of both of my hands. An empty IV bag marked Human Donor Blood lay discarded on the floor.
Dick Cheney had put IV lines into both of my hands. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“’M fine,” I told him, batting my hands at the water he was trying to force into my mouth. When I turned my head away, I felt the pull of medical tape against my skin. A fresh new bandage the size of a postcard had been applied to the bite on my neck. A smaller bandage had been taped over the cut and the bites on my wrist.
“Yeah, you’re a regular Chuck Norris. Come on, baby doll, please drink for me,” he pleaded.
I stared at Dick, doubtful expression in place. But maybe a glass of water would make the freeze-dried squirrel taste in my mouth go away. I nodded and let him lift the glass to my lips.
The water was positively ambrosial—clean, just the right temperature, and somehow a little minty. I gulped the whole thing in five seconds flat, prompting Dick to pick up a second glass and press it on me. While I was drinking, he rubbed soothing circles on my back. The tension lines in his face gave way with every mouthful of water I swallowed, but he still seemed pretty pissed off.
I noted that the donor bag was marked AB negative. I had no idea how Dick managed to get a pint of my rare blood type, much less several, but I would never criticize his shady connections again. God bless Dick’s criminal underbelly. Sitting beside me, he carefully arranged my legs over his lap and pulled a thick fleece blanket up to my shoulders.
“You can’t ever do that to me again, Andrea. Do you understand?” he demanded, his voice cracking a bit over my name. He never used my real name. This was very bad. “When I broke in here, you barely had a pulse. Your blood pressure was next to nothing, and your breathing was so shallow I had to double-check it against a mirror. Damn it, you could have died. You can’t do that to me. I just lost Gilbert. I can’t lose you, too.”
“Dick—”
“You scared the hell out of me,” he said. “Did you even realize that your shirt was soaked in your blood? I had to cut it off to clean you up.”
I glanced down. I appeared to be wearing nothing but my lacy white camisole, which was crusted in rusty red stains. And my couch, which was a lovely periwinkle color, was smeared with the same coppery smudges. This was not a good night for my stain-removal budget.
“Damn, I really liked that blouse.”
Dick did not look impressed with my glibness.
I grimaced. “I’m sorry. It was a new client. She didn’t know the limits. And I don’t know if Sophie realized how much she took.”
“Sophie was there?” He seethed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “And what did she do when she saw that you were damn near drained?”
“She dropped me off at home.”
Dick’s nostrils flared. “Really?”
I nodded, even though the motion made my head ache. “Thank you for taking care of me,” I said.
“Well, hell, what else was I going to do?” he scoffed. “I wasn’t going to let you go gentle into that good night—not when you have plenty of insults stored up for me.”
“We don’t ever have to tell Jane about this, OK?” I said, forgetting my drained brain’s assurance that Jane was the one to call. “She’s been dropping hints about how risky my job is. I’ve basically handed her this I told you so on a silver platter.”
“I won’t tell her, Red, but I happen to agree with her. I don’t think your job is safe. I know you like your clients, but if this is the risk, it’s not safe. It’s just not.”
I nodded. “I’ll consider it.”
“Thank you.”
“Why didn’t you just take me to the hospital?” I asked.
“No time,” he said. “I barely had time to call my contact at the blood bank and have him meet me here.”