Page 28 of Savage Reckoning

“As long as no one lit a match we were fine. And don’t forget, I used to do bomb disposal for a living.”

“You always used to be a cocky bastard as well. Nothing’s changed.”

Is it my imagination, or were the words delivered with a little less rancour than before? “Everything’s changed,” I correct her. “I’ve changed.”

“No one changes that much,” she argues. “But even so, what you did back there…”

“What we did. I recall you were there as well, even though I distinctly told you to get back.”

“I’m a doctor. It was my duty to—”

“You disobeyed me. You could have been hurt.”

“So could you?” She stiffens in indignation. “What do you mean, disobeyed? Who do you think you are to be issuing orders?”

I shrug. “I’m the man who loves you. Who cares if you live or die. Who was prepared to do anything to get you out of jail. And if you ever scare me like that again, I’m the man who’ll put you over my knee and paddle your bare butt, who’ll make you scream until you’re hoarse then fuck you until you forget your own name.”

“I—” Her jaw drops. She gapes at me. “What? What did you say?”

“You heard. Are we actually going anywhere tonight, or shall we just stay here exchanging pleasantries?”

“You arrogant, conceited—”

“Yeah, yeah. Christ, you’re beautiful when you get worked up. Maybe we should stay here a while, and—”

“Shut up. Just, shut up.” She starts the car and jerks us out of the hospital car park.

“It’s too late to speak to Aaron tonight,” Megan informs me as we approach the Richmond. “I could drop you at a hotel. There’s a Holiday Inn not far from here.”

“Where will you go?”

“I usually scrounge a family room at the clinic when I’m there overnight.”

“That’ll do me, as well, then.”

“Oh no. They’re like gold dust, I’ll be lucky to get one, let alone two.”

“We only need one,” I point out. “Unless you snore. I don’t remember that you did in the past, but—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t share a room.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“It wouldn’t look right. It would be… unprofessional.”

“When did you start caring what people think?”

“I don’t, but—”

“Are you scared of me?”

“No!”

“Yourself, then?”

“Why would I be scared of myself? You’re not making sense.” She swings the car through the huge wrought-iron gates into the clinic’s extensive grounds.

“You’re worried you won’t be able to resist me,” I suggest as the car comes to a halt in the almost empty car park. “You never could before.”

---