he’ll live.” His reputation was understated. He wasn’t just good, he was the best.
Her eyes narrowed. “You sound cocky.”
“Oh, you have no idea. Now, if you want me to save your friend, I suggest we stop flirting and you release me,” he said, taking extra care to pronounce his last two words clearly as he jangled the chain.
She raised a finger, then paused. “If you try to attack me, or harm me or my friends, whatever you try to do will be visited a hundredfold back on you.”
“You have my word as a gentleman,” he promised, bowing. He kept the triumph out of his voice, his expression. He was getting the hell out of here.
“You’re not a gentleman.”
He raised his hand, parting his fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“That’s not a scout’s—”
“I promise,” he growled, then sighed. He dipped his head to meet her gaze directly. “I promise to heal your friend,” he told her, all attempts at levity gone. “You’ll have to trust me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I am a doctor, after all.”
Her gaze flickered away, and it was so clear she didn’t trust him. He straightened. He guessed he deserved that. “What else can you do for your friend?” He knew already she couldn’t do anything else, because sure as hell, he would have been her last resort.
She blinked and looked away. Were those—were those tears? She really was worried about this guy. This time it was Hunter who looked away, unprepared for the spark of envy for a dying man.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked roughly. “I don’t hurt you, you don’t hurt me, your friend lives and we go our separate ways?”
She nodded. “We have a deal.”
“For this to work, you’ll need to do as I say. You’ll need to be my—nurse.” He smiled. “See, we get to play doctors and nurses.”
The witch didn’t crack a smile. At all. He needed her promise, though. He got the impression that promises were important to her. “Your word—I don’t want to argue over treatment, I just need you to do as I say.”
Her lips tightened. “Fine. With regard to Lance, I’ll do as you say.”
He didn’t miss the qualification but didn’t comment. He jangled the cuff, eyeing her suggestively. She waved her hand casually and the cuffs around his wrists snapped open and fell to the floor. She turned and led the way to the door.
He nodded as he rubbed his wrists. “Neat trick.”
She didn’t look over her shoulder. “Oh, you have no idea.”
* * *
Melissa walked into her apartment, conscious of the man who followed behind her. Her shoulders were tense and she occasionally glanced over her shoulder warily. This man had tried to kill her, and now she was letting him into her home, her haven.
God, what the hell was she thinking? But what choice did she have? She’d understated Hunter Armstrong’s reputation. No, wait, he was Hunter Galen now. She’d been hiding in the next room when he’d renounced his father’s name. Hunter wasn’t renowned simply for being adequate, or even good at his job. He was widely reputed to be the best at his job. Surgeon. General practitioner. Specialist. If anyone was to work on Lance, she’d want him to be the best.
She’d also want him not to have homicidal tendencies.
She led him into the spare bedroom, and Lexi looked up from the bed. She rose to her feet, frowning. “Who’s this?”
“A friend.”
“A doctor.” Melissa eyed him. They’d responded simultaneously, and he’d called himself a friend. Friend? Good grief. If he thought this was friendship, she’d hate to see the man’s enemies.
No, wait, they were probably all ashes, somewhere.
“This is Hunter Galen. Hunter, this is Lexi, and that’s her brother, Lance,” she said, indicating the bed.
Lance’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and sweat gave a sheen to his body in the muted candlelight. Gauze and bandages covered his chest, and although she’d seen Lance’s injuries, and had treated his wounds as best she could, the sight of his damaged body was still a shock. She glanced away. Only three candles remained burning, the rest had long since blown out or burned out.
Hunter stepped closer, his bulk casting a shadow over Lance’s body. Hunter touched his patient’s forehead, then raised the man’s eyelids. He placed his fingers at the side of Lance’s neck, as though taking a pulse, and a faint frown marred his brow.
“What is it?” Melissa whispered.
“Talk to me. Tell me what happened,” he commanded.
Melissa drew in a breath. “I don’t know.” She glanced over to Lexi, who shrugged, her eyes wide. “This is how he was found. I asked him what had happened, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Oh, so you two are close, huh?” Hunter commented dryly.
“He doesn’t want me to go after who did this,” Melissa whispered, ensuring Lexi didn’t hear her. Hunter’s gaze met hers briefly, then flicked over to Lexi and then back to his patient.
“He’s been cut. Doesn’t look like claws, though. And he’s been shot.”
Hunter peeled the gauze off Lance’s chest and grimaced. “Yikes. That’s nasty.”
“There’s—there’s something near his heart,” Melissa told him, pointing to the bullet wound high on Lance’s chest. “A fragment, maybe.”
Hunter leaned down to peer closely, not at all bothered by the blood. “Uh-huh.”
“But you can heal him, right?” Melissa stepped up to stand beside him. She’d meant it to sound like an order, not a plea. It was such a contrast, her friend, pale and sickly on the bed, and the light warrior, so damn vital and strong, next to her. Hunter flicked a quick glance toward her, and his eyes darkened as he noted the short distance between them. He finally nodded.
“I believe so.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief.
Hunter frowned and placed his head on Lance’s forehead. “There’s something not quite right here,” he muttered.
“I, uh, I think that bullet is creating more damage with every breath he takes.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, so now you’re a doctor, too, huh?”
She frowned. “No, but I am a witch, and I sensed something dark in there, like a shadow that is expanding inside him.”
Hunter nodded. “Poison. Looks like the bullet was possibly tainted. If the bullet had just passed through him, he would have been really sick. With that bullet fragment in there, and the sustained exposure to the toxin, it’s killing him. His body hasn’t got
