Page 65 of Megan's Mate
“A lot of help you were,” Nathaniel muttered. He needed ice, he thought, a bottle of aspirin and a shot of whiskey.
He took another step, stopping, then swearing when his vision blurred and his legs wobbled like jelly. Dog came out of the corner where he’d huddled, whimpering, and whined at Nate’s feet.
“Just need a minute,” he said to no one in particular, and then the room tilted nastily on its side. “Oh, hell,” he murmured, and passed out cold.
Dog licked at him, tried to nuzzle his nose, then sat, thumped his tail and waited. But the smell of blood made him skittish. After a few moments, he waddled out the door.
Nathaniel was just coming to when he heard the footsteps approaching. He struggled to sit up, wincing at every blow that had gone unfelt during the heat of battle. He knew that if they’d come back for him, they could tap-dance on his face without any resistance from him.
“Man overboard,” Bird announced, and earned a hissing snarl from Nathaniel.
Holt stopped in the doorway and swore ripely. “What the hell happened?” Then he was at Nathaniel’s side, helping him to stand.
“Couple of guys.” Too weak to be ashamed of it, Nathaniel leaned heavily on Holt. It began to occur to him that he might need more than aspirin.
“Did you walk into a robbery?”
“No. They just stopped by to beat me to a pulp.”
“Looks like they did a good job of it.” Holt waited for Nathaniel to catch his breath and his balance. “Did they mention why?”
“Yeah.” He wiggled his aching jaw and saw stars. “They were paid to. Courtesy of Dumont.”
Holt swore again. His friend was a mess, bruised, bloodied and torn. And it looked as though he were too late to do anything other than mop up the spills.
“Did you get a good look at them?”
“Yeah, good enough. I kicked their butts back to Boston to deliver a little message to Dumont.”
Half carrying Nathaniel to the door, Holt stopped, took another survey. “You look like this, and you won?”
Nathaniel merely grunted.
“Should have known.” The news made Holt marginally more cheerful. “Well, we’ll get you to the hospital.”
“No.” Damned if he’d give Dumont the satisfaction. “Son of a bitch told them they’d get a bonus if they put me in the hospital.”
“Then that’s out,” Holt said with perfect understanding. “Just a doctor, then.”
“It’s not that bad. Nothing’s broke.” He checked his tender ribs. “I don’t think. Just need some ice.”
“Yeah, right.” But, being a man, Holt was in perfect sympathy with the reluctance to be bundled off to a doctor. “Okay, we’re going to the next-best place.” He eased Nathaniel into the car. “Take it slow, ace.”
“I can’t take it otherwise.”
With a snap of his fingers, Holt ordered Dog into the car. “Hold on a minute while I phone Suzanna, let her know what’s going on.”
“Feed the bird, will you?”
Nathaniel drifted between pain and numbness until Holt returned.
“How’d you know to come by?”
“Your dog.” Holt started the car and eased it as gently as possible out of the drive. “He played Lassie.”
“No fooling?” Impressed, Nathaniel made the effort to reach back and pat Dog on the head. “Some dog, huh?”
“It’s all in the bloodlines.”
