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Slicker made just the slightest noise as Hudson inspected the wound. “No white stuff.”
“Okay. Then I’ll pack it and…shoot.”
“What?”
“I might be going into shock.”
“What?” Hudson stood up.
“I’ll be fine. Just…I’m starting to sweat, and my heart rate is going up.”
He was also breathing faster.
“If I pass out, then…well, call for help.”
“Are you going to pass out?” And then what? Hudson stood up.
“Put my feet up. And get me a cold cloth.”
Hudson dragged the man’s feet onto the bed. “Don’t die.”
“Still alive.”
He headed into the bathroom and got a wet cloth. Came back. “What’s this for?”
“My forehead.” He reached out and took the cloth. Opened his eyes. “Listen, calm down. I’ve just lost a lot of blood and overexerted myself. But we stopped the bleeding, and I’m going to be fine.”
“And if you’re not?”
The man pulled a pillow under his head, took a long slow breath. “Then I guess you’ll have a dead man in your bed.”
Hudson just stared at him. “Perfect.” He strode away and set the jump drive on the small desk. Stood, staring at the man through the big wall mirror. “Who are you?”
Slicker closed his eyes. “Just a guy from Montana.”
Just a guy…
Banging jerked his attention to the door. “Hudson Bly, let me in!”
Who knew his name? And it sounded female. And…familiar.
He glanced at the man who had opened one eye. Then the other. “Who is it? Do you know them?”
He went to the door and looked through the lock.
What did she want? “It’s…one of the officials from today’s game. A woman.”
He looked again. Really, what was Iris Marshall doing at his door?
“Go away, ma’am.”
“No.” She stepped closer to the door and seemed to put her mouth near the crack. “I saw you.”
He stiffened. She saw him? When? Where? “I was just out for a walk.”
“On the bridge. I saw you—”
He opened the door. Stood there. She stood a good foot shorter than him but possessed all the fierceness of a giant. At least, on the field.
