Page 7 of Phantom

Mack pulled a face. “Hmm, that rules out half of the guys here, but I’m sure I can come up with a solution. Leave it with me.”

I didn’t have any other option, did I?

4

AGATHA

“What happened to you?”

I stared at the stain seeping through the sleeve of Hawk’s tight white T-shirt—it was practically his uniform—and quickly rolled up the fabric. Scarlet blossomed through the bandage underneath. Friday night, and I’d succumbed to temptation again, only for him to show up bruised, battered, and bloody.

“It’s nothing. I fell out of a building is all.”

“You fell out of a building? How the hell did you fall out of a building? Actually, forget it. I don’t want to know.” When he rose from the arm of the couch to follow me into the kitchen, I shook my head and pointed. “No, sit. I’m going to get the first-aid kit. Who bandaged that?”

“Gage.”

“Did you get it checked by Dr. Kira?”

Blackwood had a small infirmary and a doctor on staff because on Emmy’s team especially, incidents like this were all too common. Anything serious, such as a gunshot wound, for example, was treated in the ER, but Kira Stanton handled the more minor injuries in-house.

“She went home already.”

“She only lives five minutes away, and she’s on call. That’s her job.”

A shrug. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. The cut was still seeping blood when I peeled away the dressing, and I sent silent thanks to whoever insisted that all Blackwood personnel had to learn basic first-aid, no matter their role in the company. Hawk clenched his jaw but didn’t complain while I cleaned the wound with antiseptic, checked for any debris, closed it with butterfly stitches—careful to line up the edges of his tattoo—and rebandaged the whole thing. Then I stood back and studied him. He didn’t look so good this evening, and his usual cockiness was missing.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“None.”

Give me strength. For a smart man, he really could be dumb sometimes.

“Then why did you come over? Why aren’t you at home in bed?”

“Because you messaged me.”

“You could just have told me you were tired.”

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “Well, I’m here.”

“And I’m kicking you out. Are you scheduled to work this weekend, or can you catch up on rest?”

“I have tomorrow off.”

“Good. Go find your bed.”

I grabbed his uninjured arm and tugged him toward the door. He looked like shit. Okay, not actual shit because that would be impossible, but his smouldering good looks were marred by charcoal smudges under his eyes and a general air of weariness.

“Agatha, don’t.”

“Your health is more important than whatever this…this thing between us is.”

“I’m used to functioning with little sleep.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s a great idea. If I’d known you were exhausted, I’d never have messaged you in the first place.”

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