Page 12 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

Chapter Five

Grant

“Grant!”

I hear shouts through my front door followed by the repeated pounding of a fist against the wood. I manage to pull myself from the chair where I’d been sorting through cold case files.

My brother’s never this demanding. What the hell?

“What?” I rip the door open.

“Downstairs, now.” Without waiting for a response, he darts back down the stairs.

“What the fuck?” I follow but freeze on the landing when I see a woman in a heap at the base of the staircase. “Who is it?”

“Don’t know.” Claude kneels to check her pulse. “She’s still alive but unconscious. I don’t know where all this blood is coming from. Let’s get her to your apartment.”

“My apartment?” I hesitate before crouching next to the unconscious woman with dark brown hair, wearing a maid’s uniform. “Why?”

“Because”—he glares up at me—“she mentioned your name before she passed out.”

I kneel beside her and brush the hair away from her face.Shit. The cat burglar I gave a second chance to. Her clothes are soaked in blood, and her breathing is shallow.

“What the hell happened to you, kid?” I murmur before gently lifting her.

She’s not petite by any standard, but she fits perfectly against me in my arms. Careful of her state, I carry her up the stairs into my apartment. I lay her on the bed, not caring about bloodstains. That’s the least of my worries.

Claude lingers at my elbow.

I turn to give him directions. “Call Rob. Tell him to get his ass over here now.”

With a nod, my brother retreats to the living room. His voice carries through the open doorway.

I turn my attention to the bundle of trouble bleeding all over my bed. My fingers brush her sweat-slick forehead, pushing away the stray locks curling across her face. Her pale skin glows against the dark blankets.

“Rob’s on his way.” Claude returns with an armful of towels. “Here. I’ll get some hot water and a rag. Get her out of those clothes so we can find her injuries.” He hands me the pocketknife on his hip.

Those military instincts never disappear. Even though I’m a cop, Claude’s always been more level-headed and methodical in a crisis. It’s like all my training goes out the window when I’m faced with a medical emergency. Thank God for my brother.

I manage to cut the dress off. She doesn’t react as I carefully roll her to the side and pull the material from beneath her. That’s when I spot the gash on her left shoulder blade. I press a damp rag against the wound, hoping the pressure of her body will staunch the bleeding until Rob arrives. On the other side, I wince at a deep cut marring her upper right arm.

“Maybe we should take her to the hospital?” Claude asks when he appears with a bowl of hot water.

“No hospital,” she mutters, her green eyes fluttering open. They lock on mine.

“What the hell happened to you, kid?” I ask, wrapping another damp cloth around her arm.

She winces, and her eyes roll into the back of her head as she falls unconscious again. Fuck.

I look at my brother. His eyebrows draw close in a deep furrow.

“Go. Send Rob up when he gets here. I can handle this.”

Claude presses his lips together like he wants to argue but nods.

The moment the door closes, I turn my attention to the woman in my bed. After more than two months of radio silence, why did she show up here? What kind of trouble did she stumble into? Why did she come to me of all people? I shake my head. She’s nothing but bad luck. A cat burglar who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’d put money on it.

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