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He was staring at me, lovely brown eyes narrowed into suspicious squints. "You're trying to get rid of me. Why?"
My head hurt. I couldn't think of a good lie. I didn't think he'd buy a bad one. "How much do you trust Stephen?"
The question seemed to throw him off balance. "I trust him."
His first reaction was to say yes, I trust him, but he hadn't thought about it first. "No, Richard, I mean do you trust him not to talk to Jean-Claude or Marcus ?"
"I wouldn't tell Marcus anything you didn't want me to," Stephen said.
"And Jean-Claude?" I asked.
Stephen looked uncomfortable, but said, "If he asked a direct question, I'd have to give a direct answer."
"How can you owe more allegiance to the Master of the City than to your own pack leader?"
"I follow Richard, not Marcus."
I glanced at Richard. "A little palace revolt?"
"Raina wanted him in the movies. I stepped in and stopped it."
"Marcus must really hate you," I said.
"He fears me," Richard said.
"Even worse," I said.
Richard didn't say anything. He knew the situation better than I did, even if he wasn't willing to do the ultimate deeds.
"Fine, I'd planned to tell Jean-Claude that you proposed."
"You proposed," Stephen said. His voice held a lilt of surprise. "Did she say yes?"
Richard nodded.
A took of delight swept over Stephen's face. "Way to go," His face fell into sadness. It was like watching wind over a grassy field, everything visible on the surface. "Jean-Claude is going to go ape-shit."
"I couldn't have said it better myself."
"Then why tell him tonight?" Richard asked. "Why not wait? You're not sure about marrying me anymore. Are you?"
"No," I said. I hated saying it, but it was the truth. I loved him already, but if it went much further it would be too late. If I had any doubts I needed to work them out now. Staring into his face, smelling the warm scent of his aftershave, I wished I could have thrown caution to the wind. Falling into his arms. But I couldn't. I just couldn't, not unless I was sure.
"Then why tell him at all? Unless you're planning to elope and didn't tell me, we have some time."
I sighed. I told him why it had to be tonight. "You can't go with me."
"I won't let you go alone," he said.
"Richard, if you are Johnny-on-the-spot when he finds out, he'll try to kill you, and I'll try to kill him to protect you." I shook my head. "If the shit hits the fan, this could end up like Hamlet."
"How like Hamlet?" Stephen asked.
"Everybody dead," I said.
"Oh," he said.
"You'd kill Jean-Claude to protect me, even after what you saw last night?"
I stared at him. I tried to read behind his eyeballs to know if there was anybody home I could really talk to. He was still Richard. With his love of the outdoors, any activity that would get you messy, and a smile that warmed me to my toes. I wasn't sure I could marry him, but I was positive I couldn't let anybody kill him.
"Yes."
"You won't marry me, but you'll kill for me. I don't understand that."
"Ask me if I still love you, Richard. That answer's still yes."
"How can I let you face him alone?"
"I've been doing just fine without you."
He touched my forehead, and I winced. "You don't took fine."
"Jean-Claude won't hurt me."
"You don't know that for sure," he said.
He had a point there. "You can't protect me, Richard. Your being there will get us both killed."
"I can't let you go alone."
"Don't go all manly on me, Richard. It's a luxury that we can't afford. If saying yes to marriage is going to make you behave like an idiot, it can be changed."
"You took back your yes."
"It's not a definite no, either," I said.
"Just trying to protect you would make you say no?"
"I don't need your protection, Richard. I don't even want it."
He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. "If I play the white knight, you'll leave me."
"If you think you need to play the white knight, then you don't know me at all."
He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me. "Maybe I want to be your white knight."
"That's your problem."
He smiled. "I guess so."
"If you can drive the Jeep back to my apartment, I'll take a cab."
"Stephen can drive you," he said. He volunteered him without even wondering what Stephen would say about it. It was arrogant.
"No, I'll take a cab."
"I don't mind," Stephen said. "I'm due back at Guilty Pleasures tonight anyway."
I glanced at him. "What do you do for a living, Stephen?"
He laid his cheek on his forearm and smiled at me. He managed to look winsome and sexy at the same time. "I'm a stripper," he said.
Of course he was. I wanted to point out that he'd refused to be in a p**n ographic movie, but he still stripped. But taking your clothes off down to tasteful undies was not the same thing as ha**ng s*x on screen. Not even close.
23
Lillian was a small woman in her mid-fifties. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and neat in a no-nonsense style. Her fingers were as quick and sure as the rest of her. The last time she'd treated my wounds, she'd had claws and greying fur.
I was sitting on an examining table in the basement of an apartment building. A building that housed lycanthropes and was owned by a shapeshifter. The basement was the makeshift clinic for the lycanthropes in the area. I was the first human they'd ever allowed to see the place. I should have been flattered, but managed not to be.
"Well, according to X rays you don't have a skull fracture."
"Glad to hear it," I said.
"You may have a mild concussion, but a mild one won't show up on tests, at least nothing we have the equipment for here."
"So I can go?" I started to hop down.
She stopped me with a hand on my arm. "I didn't say that."
I eased back on the table. "I'm listening."
"Grudgingly," she said, smiling.
"If you want grace under pressure, Lillian, I'm not your girl."
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said. "I've cleaned the scrapes and taped up your forehead. You were very lucky not to need stitches."
I didn't like stitches, so I agreed with her.
"I want you to wake up every hour for twenty-four hours." I must not have looked happy, because she said, "I know it's awkward, and probably unnecessary, but humor me. If you go to sleep and are injured more severely than I think you are, you might not wake up. So humor an old rat lady. Set the alarm or have someone wake you every hour for twenty-four hours."
"Twenty-four hours from the injury?" I asked hopefully.
She laughed. "Normally I'd say from now, but you can do it from the time of the injury. We're just being cautious."
"I like being cautious." Richard pushed away from the wall. He came to stand with us under the lights. "I volunteer to wake you every hour."
"You can't go with me," I said.
"I'll wait for you at your apartment."
"Oh, no driving for the night," Lillian said. "Just as a precaution."
Richard's fingertips touched the back of my hand. He didn't try to hold my hand, just that touch. Comforting. I didn't know what to do. If I was going to say no, eventually, it didn't seem fair to flirt. Just the weight of his fingers was a line of warmth all the way up my arm. Lust, just lust. Don't I wish.
"I'll drive your Jeep to your apartment, if you agree. Stephen can drive you to Guilty Pleasures."
"I can take a cab."
"I'd feel better if Stephen took you. Please," he said.
The "please" made me smile. "All right, Stephen can drive me."
"Thank you," Richard said.
"You're welcome."
"I would recommend you go straight home and rest," Lillian said.
"I can't," I said.
She frowned at me. "Very well, but rest as soon as you can. If this is a mild concussion and you abuse yourself, it could worsen. And even if it isn't a concussion, rest will do you more good than gallivanting around."
