thought she’d brought a man to spend the night? There had to be a piece missing. He suddenly realized what it was.
“You married?” he asked.
She looked shocked. “No, why?”
He shrugged, as well as he could, supported by the crutches. “You seemed upset. I thought maybe you were afraid your husband or significant other would get the wrong idea.”
“No husband,” she said shortly. “I live here alone. We’d better get your leg bandaged.”
“Good idea.” The mention of his wound made it ache more.
He followed her toward the main building. They passed the narrow road. “What’s down there?” he asked.
“The Big House.” She reached the glass door and held it open. “I don’t live there anymore. There’s an apartment in this building, at the end of the hall. It’s easier to stay here. I use the Big House for fund-raising parties and that sort of thing.” She closed the glass door behind them.
He turned and looked at it. “No lock?”
“Just on the side facing the parking lot. The scent of the cats keep four-legged intruders away. I need to be able to get out of here quickly, in case something happens.”
He swung the crutches forward and moved to the front door. Cheap lock. He shook the door. It rattled. He shook it again. “Some security. Anyone over a hundred and forty pounds could break through this just by running up and hitting it with his shoulder.” He glanced around at the foyer. A couple of chairs and a vinyl sofa stood on either side of the front door. Long hallways stretched out toward both ends of the building. He looked at the low ceiling, then at the wide windows on either side of the front door. “Alarm? Video?”
She shook her head.
“But you have special cameras to watch the cats?”
“They get priority.”
“Not anymore. I’m going to call Jeff with a supply list. You need new locks and a decent gate. Some kind of security system. How often you get up in the night?”
“Depends. Why?”
“Motion detectors.”
“Wouldn’t work. Sparky usually has the run of the place. Come on, that bandage needs changing.”
He followed her down the left hall. The linoleum had seen better days, and the walls needed painting, but everything was clean. Prints of big cats hung on both walls. Sparky?
“Who did you say named him?”
“Edwina. He was her favorite.”
He should ask exactly what kind of cat—or lion or tiger— Sparky was, but he didn’t want to know. Faith led him into an examining room. From the placement of the metal table and the size of the cage in the corner, he knew she treated her cats here.
“Have a seat,” she said, patting the metal table.
He set the crutches against the wall and swung himself up. “You know what you’re doing?”
She opened a metal cupboard door and rummaged around inside. “Does it matter? I’m the only one here.”
“I could change it myself.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I know enough not to kill you.”
“Great.”
He shifted his weight and scooted back on the table until he rested against the wall. The throbbing in his leg increased. “I assume the ‘package’ Jeff wants me to protect is really a three-hundred-pound feline.”
“Nope. Closer to twenty pounds. I’ll introduce you to them in the morning.”
“Them?”
She looked amused. “Twins.”
Twins? Cort fought back a sigh. Jeff was going to owe him big-time for this one, he thought, then turned his attention back to Faith.
She placed scissors beside him, along with clean bandages, antiseptic and a damp cloth. Her long light brown hair fell over her shoulders. She reached in her front jeans pocket and pulled out a rubber band, then drew her hair back and secured it. After washing her hands, she looked at the bandage.
“This may hurt. You want a stick to bite on?”
He looked at her. “A stick?”
“You’re a spy. That’s what they always do in the movies. I thought it might make you feel better.” Her lips remained straight, but humor danced in her eyes.
“You’re not digging out a bullet.”
“Just thought I’d ask.”
She picked up the scissors and cut through the bandage. It fell away revealing his blood-covered leg. Cort told himself it looked worse than it was. Faith didn’t even blink. She picked up the damp cloth and began cleaning his skin.
“Here,” she said, pointing at but not touching the incision.
“You pulled two stitches. I’ve never sewed up a person before. Would you mind if I used a butterfly bandage instead?”
“Not at all.”
She worked quickly. After wiping away the dried blood, she doused the wound with antiseptic and then taped it closed. She wrapped gauze around his calf and secured it firmly.
“That must hurt a lot,” she said sympathetically. “There should be pain medication with the other pills Jeff gave me. I’ll grab them from the truck. Be right back.”
He was too busy staring at her to answer. Faith Newlin knew about guns and big cats and did a great field dressing. None of this made any sense.
She returned with his duffel bag and the containers of medication.
“Just as I thought,” she said, tossing him a bottle.
“Great,” he said, as he caught it. “First thing in the morning, I’ll get on the horn to Jeff and get your security under control.”
He slid to the edge of the examining table and stuffed the medicine in his pocket. She handed him his crutches and led the way into the hall. Two doors down she entered a small room. There were rows of file cabinets, a bare wooden desk and a cot against the far wall.
“It’s not much,” she said. “I didn’t have a chance to get a bedroom ready for you up at the Big House. Plus, I want to keep an eye on you tonight.”
He lowered himself onto the cot. The blankets were soft, the pillow down-filled. “I’ll be fine.”
“There’s a bathroom across the hall. It has a shower built in. Do you want to try it or wait?”
He shifted his injured leg, and pain shot up to his thigh. His head still throbbed.
