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“Look,” Parker said to both of them, “I have a concussion and I’ve been shot. I need medical attention, a hot shower, and copious amounts of painkillers. At this point, I don’t care what’s on the watch, but I do care if Lydia dies. How do you know her?”
“We used to work together.”
Gus came to, blinking and sitting up like someone had jerked him awake. He swore a blue streak, then peered at Moe, Parker, and Romalov, before realizing another person had joined the party. “Lori? What the hell are you doing here?”
She sighed, lowering the weapon. “You couldn’t stay unconscious for another minute?”
He gained his feet, rubbing his head. “Did you meet with Lydia?”
“Wait.” Parker glanced back and forth. “You know this woman and Lydia Charmaine?”
He groused as he came to his feet, rubbing his temple. “All three of you come in and sit down. Seems like we have some explaining to do.”
Lori shook her head. “I can’t.” She pointed the gun at Moe again, but not in a threatening manner. “He has something that I need. If I don’t get it, Lydia won’t be the only one who gets hurt. I’m running out of time.”
“Stop waving that thing around and get your butt inside. Explain to him the reason why and I bet he’ll give it to you.”
Parker and Moe exchanged a look. She, for one, needed to sit. Without waiting for the others, she took the lead, hopping inside to the table.
Gus followed, but neither Lori nor Moe joined them.
“If he’s as stubborn as she is,” Gus said, motioning toward the porch, “might be a long standoff.”
“Who are you?”
He retrieved drinks, along with a cold pack for his head and a stool for her leg. “You need that wound cleaned and properly bandaged.”
Ignoring her blood-stained fingers, she drank deeply. “You’re possibly the only qualified one here to do it, although I’ve got some experience.”
He rooted through his kit. “You a doctor?”
“Close, but I studied the brain and its inner workings before I did a stint in national intelligence. Right now, my previous analyst job is looking pretty good.”
He slid on some readers and began removing the bloody strip of material. “Being an operative ain’t for everyone.”
She sucked in her breath as he peeled the fabric away, catching the muted grumbling of Moe speaking to Lori. “I’ve been in the field and seen plenty, but today?” She shook her head. “I’ve never encountered so many twists and turns. I feel like I’ve lost my edge.”
He tossed aside the makeshift bandage. “Ever been shot before?”
She couldn’t understand what Moe was saying outside and found she didn’t care. “Make you a deal. A question for a question. Is Gus your real name?”
He uncapped a bottle of antiseptic. “This is going to hurt.”
She stayed his hand, cocking her head to listen as Moe’s voice rose. He was telling Lori she wouldn’t get far, that their team was arriving any minute.
Parker glanced at the clock on the stove. Only twenty minutes had passed since they’d spoken to the others. It seemed like a lifetime already. “Answer me.”
He frowned at her stubbornness. “Yes, goddammit. Gus is my name. Navy corpsman, physician, and spook. Retired from all three.” He knocked her hand away. “Now suck it up, buttercup.”
He poured alcohol over her punctured calf and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. As he clasped her leg to hold it steady, he used a gauze pad to clean her skin. The bullet hole was small considering the pain it was causing.
“Why didn’t he shoot to kill?” She wondered out loud. “Why only wound me?”
“Your bodyguard out there would have had no motivation to cooperate if you were dead.”
She gritted her teeth as he bandaged her leg with fresh dressings. “He’s not my bodyguard. Where and when did you serve?”
“Gulf War. Planned to retire military, but things didn’t work out. After 9/11, Homeland recruited me. Discovered the world was suddenly too…people-y.” He gave a humorous shudder. “I like being of service, but I suck at deceiving folks. Makes me itchy.”
