Page 25 of The Meaning Of You

Well shit.I rested a hand on his back, but he grunted and shrugged it off. Fair enough. I left him to catch his breath and secured the back door as best I could before inspecting the dent in my wall.

When Madigan’s breathing eased, he slowly unfurled and dragged his hands down his face. “Goddamn you, Nick.” His glare sharpened on me. “You could’ve done some serious damage.”

Yep, pretty damn cute all riled up. “That was kind of the idea since I thought you were a criminal and all. I obviously need more practice cos you’re still here.”

He rolled his eyes. “No thanks to you.”

He had a point. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“What do you think?” he grumbled, eyes flashing.

“Come on, then. Let’s take a look.” Before he could protest or my own common sense kicked in, I drew his shirt aside and inspected the reddening mark that slashed across his soft pale belly. “Okay.” I winced. “I admit that’s got to hurt a little.”

“A little!” Madigan looked down, eyes widening at the sight. “Jesus Christ.” He jerked the shirt out of my hands and drew both sides tightly across his body. “I could have you for assault.”

I pretended to think about that. “Yeah, nah. But you can try. You were the intruder, remember?”

“Intruder?” Madigan shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression that lasted only as long as it took him to spy the dent in the plasterboard from my fist. He stared at it for a long moment before dragging his gaze back to mine. “I was only trying to help, you ungrateful little shit.”

I huffed. “By playing amateur detective and putting yourself directly in danger? You were literally sneaking aroundmyhouse.”

He blustered, “I was onlysneakingso that the thieves didn’t hear me.”

I locked eyes with the feisty man. “And how’d that work out for you?”

Madigan held my gaze, unflinching.

I surprised myself by being the first one to smile. “Come on.” I tried to jolly him out of his snit. “It worked out okay in the end.”

He shook his head, grumbling, “It’s not funny.”

I reached out to straighten his shirt on his shoulders. “It kind of is. But seriously, do you think you need a doctor?”

Madigan stretched gingerly from side to side before opening his shirt and prodding gently at his belly, which I now saw was covered in a smattering of blondish hair. “Nah, I think I’m okay.” He dropped his shirt once again and my gaze jerked up to his.

We stared at each other for a long moment before I put a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry, you know.”

Those green eyes softened. “Yeah, I know.” He took another look at the splintered wood on the floor and the fingerprint dust covering the door jamb and handle before his gaze tracked back to mine. “You’re still an assho— Shit. You’re bleeding.” He lifted a hand to my forehead and pushed my hair aside. “Jesus, Nick, did they do this?” His fingers gently probed the taped cut above my brow.

“Damn. I thought it had stopped.” I raised my hand and our fingers brushed as he dropped his. “It’s fine. Just needs another tape.”

“It is not fine. Here.” Madigan grabbed a tea towel from the laundry basket and pressed it against the dressing, scowling. “Did they fucking hit you?”

“Not as such.” I took the towel from him and he stepped back. “Although it would make for a better story if they had. I was at the lawyers today, and when I got back and parked the car in the garage, they were already inside. I had no idea. When I opened the door into the house, they ripped it from my hands and slammed it against my head. By the time I recovered and staggered inside, they were gone. Damn thing bled like a motherfucker.”

“Holy shit.” Madigan gaped. “Bastards. What did they take?”

I shrugged. “Not much, which is a bit puzzling. My return must’ve interrupted them. I’ll tell you more after we get cleaned up.” I patted his chest with my free hand. “Come on, Ellery Queen. I’ll lend you a clean T-shirt.”

“I don’t need a—” Madigan looked down and groaned at missing buttons on his shirt. “Damn you, Nick. This was one of my favourites.”

I frowned at the nondescript item of beige clothing. “Really? Well, I’m sure there’s another hundred or so where that one came from.”

“Have I mentioned you’re an asshole?” He threw me a withering look as I led him along the hallway toward the stairs. Halfway there he pulled on my arm. “Hang on.” He spun and headed back into the laundry, returning a few seconds later with a book in his hands.

“You’re lucky this is in one piece.” He waved the book under my nose. “And just so we’re clear, I wouldneverbeEllery Queen. Foppish, insufferable fool. If I’m anyone, it’s Watson. Underappreciated, humble, and the real brains of the outfit. He saved Holmes’ life and rescued the case more than once.”

The man was cute as a cupcake. “Is that right?” I made a mental note to look up the word foppish as I pushed him ahead of me up the stairs. “Then that would make me Sherlock Holmes, I deduce.”

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