Page 19 of The Wages of Sin

Unlike the week before, it felt like he was going out of his way to avoid eye contact. If I had done something to upset him, I couldn’t imagine what it was.

It’s not your business, I reminded myself. Just because he was friendly last week doesn’t mean he’s your friend.

I was about to turn and get to work when something caught my eye—something small…a drop of liquid falling from the client’s waist. I didn’t realize what it was until it splashed, thick and red, against the hardwood floors.

Blood.

I sucked in a breath at the sight. My fingers twitched as years of practice and training came rushing back to me in a flash.

“You’re bleeding.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

The client froze. He was still facing the door, but I didn’t need to see his expression to feel the electric tension crackling all around him. “It’s nothing.”

Just then, a second drop of blood joined the first on the floor…then a third, proving him a liar.

“Are you sure, sir, because?—“

“I’m fine,” he cut me off, his voice sharp. Any reasonable person would have heard the dangerous edge in his voice and let it go.

But not me.

Especially not when he turned and started striding away from me, leaving a trail of blood splatter in his wake.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself before quickly chasing after him.

I grabbed his arm just before he could disappear inside his bedroom. The look in his eyes as he spun around to face me could have frozen the Atlantic Ocean.

“Mary,” he said the name like a warning, and in any other circumstance, I would have been paralyzed by the deadly threat it held…but not now.

Now, I held up my hand to silence him.

“Sir, you are bleeding…badly,” I said, the calm yet authoritative voice I’d practiced on my patients during my internship instantly coming back to me. “You need to let me look at your wound.”

He stared down at me, his expression guarded, but at least some of the ice that had frosted over his eyes a moment ago had started to thaw.

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because I can help. I’m a doctor.”

I held my breath as his blue eyes zeroed in on my face. For one painfully tense moment, he didn’t move or say a word. My only insight into his thoughts were the tics and strains of the muscles lining his jaw and throat.

After what felt like an eternity, he gave a single tight nod. “Okay.”

The breath left my lungs all at once in relief, but the moment of ease didn’t last long. In the next breath, I was right back in the moment.

“Tell me what happened,” I said, leading him through the doorway and toward his bed.

Instantly, the ice was back, freezing over his eyes as he shot me a look that made it clear he wasn’t about to answer that.

“I don’t need details,” I assured him as he sat on the foot of the bed. “I just need to know what I’ll be dealing with when we cut that shirt off you.”

Another jaw tic, then one reluctant word. “Knife.”

“Stab or slash?”

“Slash.”

“All right,” I nodded. “Next thing I’m going to need is some supplies. Do you have a first aid kit? Needle and thread? Antiseptic?”

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