Lover At Last(74)
“Doc Jane! Manny!” someone called out. “Get a medic!”
Blay wanted to scream at Qhuinn right then and there, but he was too terrified about Saxton’s condition to waste time on any what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-yous: The lawyer wasn’t moving at all. Grabbing the guy’s beautiful suit, Blay rolled him out flat and went for the carotid with his fingertips, praying he found a heartbeat. When he didn’t, he tilted Saxton’s head back and bent down to begin administering CPR.
Except then Saxton let out a cough and dragged in a trunkload of air.
“Manny’s coming,” Blay said roughly, even though he didn’t know that to be true. But come on, someone had to be on the way. “Stay with me….”
More coughing. More breathing. And the color started to come back into that handsome, refined face.
With a shaking hand, Blay pushed back the soft, thick blond hair from the forehead he had touched so many times before. As he looked into the fuzzy eyes staring up at him, he wanted to feel something soul defining and life altering and…
He prayed for that kind of reaction.
Hell, in that moment, he would have traded both his past and present for it.
But it was simply not there. Regret, anger on the male’s behalf, sadness, relief…he logged all of those. That was it, however.
“Here, let me check him out,” Doc Jane said as she put her black doctor’s bag down and knelt to the mosaic floor.
Blay shuffled back to give V’s shellan some room, but he stayed close, even though it wasn’t like he could do anything. Hell, he’d always wanted to go to medical school—but not so he could resuscitate ex-lovers because some cocksucking psycho had tried to strangle them in the front goddamn hall.
He glared up at Qhuinn. The fighter was still being held back by Rhage, like the Brother wasn’t entirely sure the episode was over.
“Let’s get you to your feet,” Doc Jane said.
Blay was right on that, helping Saxton up, holding him steady, heading him over to the stairs. The pair of them were silent as they ascended, and when they got to the second floor, Blay took them down into his room out of habit.
Shoot.
“No, it’s fine,” Saxton murmured. “Just let me sit down in here for a minute, would you?”
Blay thought about the bed, but when Sax stiffened as he headed in that direction, he settled for the chaise longue. Helping the male off his feet, he awkwardly stepped back.
In the silence that followed, violent anger hit him from out of nowhere.
Now his hands shook for a different reason.
“So,” Saxton said hoarsely. “How was your night?”
“What the hell happened down there?”
Saxton loosened his tie. Unbuttoned his collar. Took yet another deep breath. “Family tiff, as it were.”
“Bullshit.”
Saxton shifted exhausted eyes over. “Must we do this?”
“What happened—”
“I think you and he need to talk. And once you do, I won’t have to worry about being jumped like a felon again.”
Blay frowned. “He and I have nothing to say to each other—”
“With all due respect, the ligature marks around my neck would suggest otherwise.”
“How we doin’ there, big guy?”
As Rhage’s voice registered in Qhuinn’s ear, it was clear the Brother was checking to see if the drama was well and truly over. Not necessary. The instant Blay had told him to cut the crap, Qhuinn’s body had obeyed, sure as if the guy held the remote to his TV.
Other people were milling around, looking him over, obviously also waiting to see if he showed any inclination to race up after Saxton and resume the death-grip routine.
“You good?” Rhage prompted.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
The iron bars across his chest loosened and gradually dropped. Then a big hand clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Fritz hates dead bodies in the front hall.”
“But there’s not a lot of blood with strangulation,” somebody pointed out. “Clean-up would have been easy.”
“Just a floor polish afterward,” another guy chimed in.
There was a heavy pause at that point.
“I’m gonna go upstairs.” As the hairy eyeballs started again, Qhuinn shook his head. “Not for a repeat. I swear on my…”
Well, he didn’t have a mother, a father, a brother, a sister…or a young—although hopefully, that last one was a “yet” kind of thing.
“I just won’t, ’kay?”
He didn’t wait for any further commentary. No offense, but a plane crash and a homicide attempt on one of his few remaining relations was enough for the night.