Page 49 of Married With Lies

“He won’t.”

“Do you want to keep my broom just in case?”

“The thought is appreciated but if you could just look after Jasper I’d be grateful.”

Peggy still looks unconvinced and peers at Cale, her nostrils flaring. “You remember to holler if that clown over there gets testy.”

“Oh, I’ll holler all right.”

Peggy withdraws with reluctance and I shut the bedroom door to ensure no one will be in earshot.

Cale’s deep voice murmurs something into the phone and he nods in my direction. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” Dumb question. No one else is here.

“Yes.” He holds the phone out.

I reach for it with a sense of extreme dread. “Hello?”

The man’s voice is overly loud with an extremely thick New York accent. “Oh hey, Sadie. Don’t you worry about anything. I’ve got the best medical team on the way. You just sit tight and take care of our boy.”

Cale removes his mutilated white shirt with a grunt of pain. Under different circumstances I’d be salivating over the sight of his flawlessly sculpted chest but right now there’s a lot going on. Cale balls up the shirt and presses it to the angry looking hole on his lower right side.

“I can do that,” I say into the phone and clear my throat. “But who are you?”

He chuckles. “It’s Richie Amato, your old neighbor. You know what? I remember your mama. She was a looker. You take after her. And you should call me Uncle Richie. We’re family now.”

I have no desire to call him Uncle anything.

“Now put my nephew back on for a minute,” he says.

I hand the phone back to Cale. He listens, grunts in agreement, then tosses the phone aside on the bed. Since he seems more awake than he was a few minutes ago I think it won’t hurt him to clarify some things.

I hug the towels to my chest. “So what happened? Who shot you? And what made you come here of all places? By the way, couldn’t you have at least called to say you were stopping by with a bullet wound?”

Cale doesn’t interrupt while I’m firing questions. He answers calmly. “It was self-defense. I shot back and I shoot a hell of a lot better. When Richie told me to drive here I couldn’t think fast enough to refuse. And I thought if I called while I was on my way I’d wake you up and then you’d be pissed.”

“Oh. Yes, this surprise was so much better. I’m definitely not pissed now. Did you happen to invite any of your mafia friends to hang out here with you? I’m not sure how many towels we can spare.” I look over my shoulder in case they’ve walked into the room while I was preoccupied.

Cale exhales noisily, like all this fuss is a great big imposition on his time. “No, I didn’t invite any friends. I was just lucky enough to wander into an Arizona gas station on the night a couple of dipshits decided to rob it.”

“That’s it?” Not the scenario I was picturing at all.

“That’s it.”

I stare at Cale. He stares back at me. I truly have no clue if he’s telling the truth.

“You need a doctor. You might be bleeding internally. When is that medical team supposed to get here?”

“Soon I think. And I’m not bleeding internally,” he says in grumpy voice that I’m not too crazy about considering everything he’s putting me through. “Did you see the car keys anywhere?”

“Why? Are you leaving?”

He stands up and sways a little. “I need to get my shit out of there.”

“For heaven’s sake, sit down before you fall over.” For emphasis, I place my palm on his chest. His rock hard wall of a man chest. I remove my hand before it’s tempted to do something weird. I push a towel on him instead. “Take this. I think I felt your keys in your jacket. I’ll get whatever you need from your car.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue as he sinks back onto the bed. He truly looks exhausted, as if in addition to the bullet problem he hasn’t slept in a few days. “I’ve two bags in the trunk. Neither of them are too heavy.”

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