Page 68 of Megan's Mate
“Bigger than you, pal.” He was floating just a little as he hobbled up the stairs between Sloan and Max.
“Let’s get those pants off,” Lilah said, when they’d eased him down to sit on the side of the bed.
He still had the wit to arch a brow at her. “You never said that when it counted. No offense,” he added to Max.
“None taken.” With a chuckle, Max bent down to pull off Nathaniel’s shoes. He knew what it was to be nursed back to health by the Calhoun women, and he figured that once Nathaniel got past the worst of the pain, he’d realize he’d landed in heaven. “Need some help getting in the tub?”
“I can handle it, thanks.”
“Give a call if you run into trouble.” Sloan held the door open, waiting until the room cleared. “And, when you’re more up to it, I’d like the whole story.”
Alone, Nathaniel managed to ease himself into the hot water. The first flash of agony passed, transforming gradually into something closer to comfort. By the time he’d climbed out again, the worst seemed to be over.
Until he looked in the mirror.
There was a bandage under his left eye, another on his temple. His right eye looked like a rotting tomato. That left the bruises, the swollen lip, the nasty scrape on his jaw. All in all, he thought, he looked like hell.
With a towel slung around his waist, he stepped back into the bedroom, just as Megan came in the hallway door.
“I’m sorry.” She pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying all manner of foolish things. “Amanda thought you might want another pillow, some more towels.”
“Thanks.” He made it to the bed and lay back with a sigh of relief.
Grateful for something practical to do, she hurried to the bed, plumped and arranged pillows for him, smoothed the sheets. “Is there anything I can get you? More ice? Some soup?”
“No, this is fine.”
“Please, I want to help. I need to help.” She couldn’t bear it any longer, and she laid a hand to his cheek. “They hurt you. I’m so sorry they hurt you.”
“Just bruises.”
“Damn it, don’t be so stupid—not when I’m looking right at you, not when I can see what they did.” She pulled back on the need to rage and looked helplessly into his eyes. “I know you’re angry with me, but can’t you let me do something?”
“Maybe you’d better sit down.” When she did, he took her hand in his. He needed the contact every bit as much as she did. “You’ve been crying.”
“A little.” She looked down at his damaged knuckles. “I felt so helpless downstairs, seeing you like this. You let Coco tend you, and you wouldn’t even look at me.” Drenched with emotion, her eyes came back to his. “I don’t want to lose you, Nathaniel. It’s only that I’ve just found you, and I don’t want to make another mistake.”
“It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?”
“No, no. It comes back to me.”
“What he did to you,” Nathaniel corrected grimly.
“All right, yes.” She brought his hand to her cheek. “Please, don’t walk away from me. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know when Holt said you’d been hurt—my heart just stopped. I’ve never been so frightened. You mean so much to me, Nathaniel. Let me just take care of you until you’re better.”
“Well.” He was softening, and he reached out to stroke her hair. “Maybe Dumont did me a favor this time.”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head. Maybe his brain was a little addled by the drug and the pain. He hadn’t meant to tell her, at least not yet. But he thought she had the right to know.
“The two guys that jumped me tonight. Dumont hired them.”
Every ounce of color faded from her cheeks. “What are you saying? You’re saying that Baxter paid them to attack you? To—”
“Rough me up, that’s all. I’d say he was sore about me tossing him in the water and was looking for some payback.” He shifted, winced. “He’d have been smarter to put his money on a couple of pros. These two were real amateurs.”
“Baxterdid this.” Megan’s vision hazed. She shut her eyes until she was sure it had cleared again. “My fault.”
