"I'm particularly fond of the 'snotty attitude,' " Siana said, then slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles.
"Did you see his face?" Mom whispered, grinning. "Poor man."
Poor man, indeed.
"He deserved it," I groused, sitting up and trying to find the left armhole in the gown.
"Just be still; I'll do it," Mom said.
"Don't move your arm at all." That was from Jenni, who had moved around behind me. "Let Mom thread the gown up your arm instead."
Mom did, being very careful around the huge bandage, though it was so thick I doubt I could have felt anything through it anyway, even if Dr. MacDuff hadn't numbed my arm before he started stitching. Jenni pulled the gown's edges together in back, and tied the little strings.
"You aren't going to be able to use that arm for at least a couple of days," Mom said. "We'll pick up some of your clothes and take you home with us."
That was what I'd already figured, so I nodded. A few days of being coddled by my parents was just what the doctor ordered. Well, he hadn't, but he should have.
By the time Cynthia returned with forms for me to sign, a list of instructions, and an aide with a wheelchair, Dad and Wyatt had also returned. Wyatt may not have been in a better mood, but at least he wasn't scowling at everyone.
"I'll go get the car," Dad said when the aide appeared with the wheelchair.
Wyatt stopped him. "I'll get my car. She's going home with me."
"What?" I said in surprise.
"You're going home with me. In case you've forgotten, honey, someone is trying to kill you. Your folks' house is the first place anyone would look. Not only is it not safe for you, are you willing to endanger them, too?"
"What do you mean, someone's trying to kill her?" Mom demanded fiercely. "I thought it was a random-"
"I guess there's a slight chance the shooting could have been random. But she witnessed a murder last Thursday, and her name was in the paper. If you were a murderer, what would you want to do about a witness? She'll be safe at my house."
"The killer saw you, too," I said, thinking fast. Saw you kissing me. "What makes you think he wouldn't track me to your place, too?"
"He wouldn't know who I am, so how could he find out where I live? The only way he'd even know I'm a cop was if he hung around afterward, and trust me, no one was there."
Darn it, he made sense. I didn't want to endanger any of my family-or Wyatt either, come to that-so the last thing I should do was go home with them.
"She can't go home with you," Mom said. "She needs someone to take care of her until she can use her arm."
"Ma'am," said Wyatt, steadily meeting her gaze, "I'll take care of her."
Okay, so he'd just told my family we were sleeping together, because we all knew that "taking care of" meant bathing, dressing, and so on. Maybe I had shouted in front of all his men that I wouldn't sleep with him again, but that was different. For me, anyway. This was my parents, and this was the south, where of course such things went on, but you generally didn't announce it to the world or your family. I expected Dad to take him by the arm and lead him out again, for another little talk, but instead Dad nodded.
"Tina, who better to take care of her than a cop?" he asked.
"He has a list of transgressions two pages long," she replied, indicating her doubt that he was capable of taking care of me.
"He also has a gun."
"There is that," Mom said, and turned to me. "You're going with him."
Chapter Twelve
"You know," I said as Wyatt drove me to his place after stopping to get my prescriptions filled, "this guy saw your car, and it has 'cop' written all over it. Who else drives a Crown Vic-I mean, who under the age of sixty drives a Crown Vic except for cops?"
"So?"
"You kissed me there in the parking lot, remember? So he might very well figure we have a thing, you're a cop, and work it from there. How hard can it be?"
"We have over two hundred people in the department; narrowing down which one I am could take time. Then he'd have to find me. My home phone number isn't listed, and sure as hell no one in the department would give out information on me or any other member. If anyone wants to contact me about work, they call this," he said, tapping his cell phone. "And it's registered with the city."
"All right," I conceded. "I'm safer at your place. Not totally safe, but safer." Someone was trying to kill me. Despite my best efforts not to think about it just yet, the hard truth of that was pushing in on me. I knew I'd have to come to grips with it pretty soon-say, sometime tomorrow. I'd been sort of expecting it... not really, but the possibility had been in the back of my mind... but I hadn't factored in the shock of actually being shot. That was totally unexpected.
Just like that-boom!-my life had gone out of control. I couldn't go home, I didn't have my clothes with me, I was in pain, I felt weak and shaky, and God only knew what would happen to my business. I needed to get that control back.
I looked over at Wyatt. He was driving out of the city proper; we had left all the streetlights behind, so his face was lit only by the dash lights, and I shivered a little at how tough he looked. This whole situation with him was out of control, too. I'd tried my best to put on the brakes, and instead here I was, going home with him. He'd seen an opportunity and grabbed it, though I was really surprised, considering how pissed he'd been about my list.
Who would have thought a little thing like that would annoy him so much? Touchy, touchy. And here I was, totally at his mercy. There wouldn't be anyone else around-