“Tell him—take better care of you after this.”
She kissed his cold cheek. “I can take care of myself, Alexander,” she murmured. “You do the same, you hear?”
“We have to go, ma’am,” one of the medical technicians said.
Celia stepped out of the way.
“I want to ride with him,” Maris Cathcart insisted, her eyes locked on her employer’s face. She had arrived a few minutes earlier, hastily dressed in a misbuttoned shirt and slacks. Evan had been right behind her, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. Celia had gotten the impression that Damien’s two secretaries had been together when they’d been summoned. Maybe that would amuse her later, when she remembered how to smile.
“You’re in charge, Evan,” Damien murmured just as he and Maris were hustled out of the room.
The secretary straightened his bare shoulders and lifted his chin, assuming an immediate air of command. “Someone tell me what the hell has happened in here,” he said, sounding so much like his beloved employer that Celia was wearily amused.
She left others to bring Evan up to date. She turned to find Reed.
He was sitting on Damien’s soft leather couch, his shoulders slumped, his eyes closed. A gun lay loosely in his right hand, apparently forgotten.
A battered, weary warrior, Celia found herself thinking. No one would mistake him now for a mild-mannered tax accountant.
Kyle was bent over him, her sleek red head close to his as she examined the back of his head where Bennett had hit him. Celia’s stomach clenched. They looked so comfortable together, she thought, her teeth digging into her lower lip. So close.
And then Reed looked up. His eyes met hers. He pushed Kyle’s hand aside and shoved himself to his feet.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, touching gentle fingers to the oozing lump at the side of her head.
“I’m okay. It’s just a bump where Mark hit me.”
A muscle jumped in Reed’s jaw. “I should have killed him,” he said, the dramatic words spoken in an oddly calm, matter-of-fact tone.
“You almost did,” Kyle reminded him, then glanced at Celia. “I unwrapped his fingers from the guy’s throat and sent him to make sure you were all right. I’ve never seen my partner quite so emotional making an arrest.”
Reed groaned. “Tell me someone read the guy his rights,” he said, as though the thought had just occurred to him.
“Except for your performance, everything went strictly by the book,” Kyle assured him with a note of suppressed amusement. “He won’t get off on technicalities.”
Reed appeared relieved.
Kyle looked from Reed’s wounded head to Celia’s injured face. “You two look terrible. Come on, we’ll find someone to check you out.”
> “I want to make sure Damien’s okay,” Celia insisted. “Can you drive us to the hospital where he’s been taken?”
“Yeah. Let me make a few quick calls first.”
For the first time, Celia realized the three of them were alone in Damien’s living room. She didn’t know where Evan had ushered the others. The sudden silence was startling in comparison to the earlier chaos.
Celia looked down at her filthy, bloodstained clothing. “I want to change,” she said, thinking of the clean clothing right across the hallway. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Reed was massaging the back of his neck. “You can clean up later,” he said.
She plucked distastefully at her shirt. “I want to change now.”
“Go with her, Reed. Make sure she doesn’t keel over or anything. This will take me about five minutes,” Kyle said, phone in hand.
Reed didn’t seem to care for being on the receiving end of orders for a change. But he nodded stiffly and turned to Celia. “All right. Let’s go.”
She wasn’t feeling particularly subservient at the moment, either, but she knew it would be a waste of breath to protest his curt tone. She turned without another word and headed for her suite. Reed followed close at her heels.
Chapter Fifteen