a shaky laugh. “Oh, I could run a mile. Just point me in the right direction.”
“Do you think you can walk with help?” I fixed him with a no-nonsense glare. The medical kit is downstairs, and I don’t want to leave you alone with him.
Then tell him to get the hell out, Nathan said, his gaze flicking to the stranger. He’s the one who broke in and shot someone. I’m not worried about hurting his feelings.
Neither am I. But the bullet needs to come out so you can heal faster. I helped him sit up, intending to get him on his feet and downstairs, so he could rest.
“You stay right where you are,” I ordered the intruder. “I’ll be back.”
The hell you will. I’m not going anywhere, Nathan argued.
“You have a recently fired piece registered to me, with my fingerprints on it. I’m not leaving,” the burglar assured me. “You want help getting him wherever he needs to go?”
“Stay where you are,” I repeated, and, to Nathan, Yes you are. You’re going downstairs, away from the crazy man who shot you.
Before I could get him on his feet—and before he tried to argue with me—he stabbed two fingers into the wound and, barely restraining his grunts of pain, pulled the bullet out himself. When he withdrew his fingers, a cold, wet jet of blood shot out, and I clamped the towel over his stomach with a curse.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I scolded, reminding myself firmly that any of the various germs and bacteria he’d just introduced into the wound wouldn’t affect him.
“Now the bullet is out,” he said, infuriatingly calm despite the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. His teeth chattered and he sagged against me. “And I’m staying right here.”
Swearing, I pulled him to rest against the wall, his legs dragging two wet trails of blood after him.
“You’re an idiot,” I muttered, placing his hand to hold the towel over the wound. I turned back to the assailant. He’d remained exactly where I’d expected him to be, nursing the knuckles I’d bloodied.
“Is your friend okay?” he asked, with enough grace to appear genuinely remorseful.
“He’ll be fine.” I leaned hard on the word “fine,” so he’d know I was still dangerously pissed off. “What were you doing here?”
“Dropping off blood. Max pays me to come by and stock the place—the mini fridge in his room and the big one here. I do it once a month. Sometimes he pays me between visits to drop in and give the bum’s rush to any overnight guests that might be…disinclined to leave without saying goodbye.” He shrugged. “I’ve got a key, and you can ask Dolores, the morning doorman. She thinks I’m the cleaning lady.”
I arched a brow at him. “Okay, cleaning lady. What’s your name?”
“Bill. William. Bill.” He reached behind him. So did I, looking for the gun. He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m just going for my wallet.”
“I don’t need to see ID, Bill.” Interrogation was harder than I’d imagined. I wished Nathan was up to the job. It seemed that in the movies the questions all flowed in a seamless pattern of logic. My thoughts were all over the place, would probably come out all scattered. “So, if you and Max are so chummy, why do you carry a gun when you come to his place?”
Bill shrugged. “I always carry a gun.”
“Why?” I had definite issues with people who just carried concealed weapons around. I wasn’t a card-carrying member of the NRA for a reason.
He snorted, as if I couldn’t possibly be serious. “Why not?”
I didn’t want to get drawn into a gun-control argument with someone who just exercised his second amendment right in Max’s kitchen. Staring him down, I crossed my arms and waited.
“Well, for one, it’s kind of like my sidearm. I was in the Marines for twelve years, and I just never got used to not having a gun with me. I also need it, in my line of work. Max isn’t my only client. But this is the first time there have been other vampires here that he didn’t tell me about. Usually, he’ll give me a heads-up when bloodsucking guests are going to be here. That’s why I attacked you guys, because as far as I know, you’re not supposed to be here.”
“Well, you’re wrong. Max offered us a place to stay. But still, a gun? Why not a stake?” I realized I still had him cornered on the floor. There was a small first aid kit in the odds-and-ends drawer in the island—nothing that could help me with Nathan’s wounds—and I retrieved it. “Have a seat, and I’ll bandage your hand.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” He slid onto one of the stools, glancing ruefully over the pots and pans littering the floor. “Hell of a fighter, your boyfriend.”
“He’s my sire,” I said, not elaborating any further on the messed-up nature of the relationship between Nathan and I. The guy might have just ambushed us in our sleep, but he didn’t deserve that kind of punishment.
I opened the first aid kit and took his hand in mine. His knuckles were swollen and split, and I felt a little sick knowing I’d caused the damage. Still, Nathan was far more damaged. I looked to him, and he gave me a weak wave from his spot on the floor. His face was gray, but he’d dropped the towel and I saw that the bleeding had stopped. I faced Bill again. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t carry a stake because it’s not a sure thing. A gun, I can shoot and take someone down, at least long enough to get the hell away from them. With a stake, you’ve got to hit the heart. I’m not a doctor. I don’t know where somebody’s heart would be.” He winced as I swabbed the blood from his hands with a disinfectant pad. “I mean, really, do you think you know where the human—sorry, vampire—heart is?”
“Yes. But I’m a doctor.” I dabbed at a particularly nasty cut and reached into the first aid kit for some bandages. “So, you deal with vampires you don’t trust and feel the need to arm yourself. Sounds like you should make a career change.”
He chuckled, and there was an edge of bitterness to it. “This pays better than anything I could get. The job market is tough.”
“So is the market for blood donors, I guess. Since you have to service more than one vampire.” I eyed the cooler. “So, exactly how much blood do you have left in your body, if you don’t mind my asking?”
He grinned. “You’re a smart lady. Okay, you caught me. It’s not all my blood. I get it from other donors, ones who don’t mind providing so long as they don’t have to deal with actual vampires. I take it, and give it a little markup for my troubles.”
I shook my head. Was nothing sacred anymore? “You profit from trafficking human blood?”
“Got by honest means.” He nodded to his injured hand. “And really, it’s not like I don’t have my fair share of trouble trying to deliver the stuff. What are you two doing here, anyway? Where’s Max?”
“Max is…” I hesitated. Not knowing exactly what kind of guy Bill was, I didn’t want to tell him that Max was the first vampire in known history to father a baby, or that he’d used that awesome power to knock up a werewolf. “Indisposed. I don’t know when he’s coming back. There are some strange things happening in the vampire world lately, and Nathan and I needed a place to hide out.”
Good girl, Nathan sent across the blood tie. He had a way of saying something like that without sounding completely patronizing. My heart, which was slowly thawing out from the death of my fledgling, warmed a little at Nathan’s approval.
Apparently, Bill accepted my answer. He cleared his throat and asked, “So, Nathan is your sire and your name is?”
“I’m Carrie.” I frowned down at his hand. Bandages never stuck right to joints.
“I’d