Heart pounding in surprise, Thea’s eyes flew to his face.
He stared at her balefully. “What are you doing?”
Annoyed that he’d once again been able to take her off guard (seriously, what was that?), she yanked out of his grasp, taking the wallet with her. “I need money to pay for a room. And I need a room to see to your wounds.”
The wolf still appeared incredulous, but he had no choice but to trust her. Thea scooted out of the car and strode with an air of casualness into the small reception. There was a refrigerator with drinks in it and a large display with snacks. An older woman sat behind the desk, her back to the door, watching—
Thea raised an eyebrow.
She was watching porn.
Or a very sexually graphic romantic drama.
“A room, please.” Thea leaned against the high counter.
The woman glanced at her and then at the TV. She sighed in frustration and turned to Thea. “One hundred zloty for the night.”
Thea nodded and wandered over to the drinks’ cabinet. She pulled out two large bottles of water and grabbed a couple bags of chips and candy bars. “These too. And I’d like your room farthest from the road.”
The woman didn’t even flinch. She took the money and handed over a key. “Checkout is at eleven.” She turned back to her sexy movie, summarily dismissing Thea.
Grateful fortune had delivered her a room and a motel owner uninterested in her existence, Thea grabbed the bottles and food and tried not to drop it all as she carried it to the car.
She parked around the corner out of sight. Once she’d dumped the stuff inside the basic but clean little motel room, Thea searched the trunk for the first aid kit. Not only did she find a large first aid bag, she found bottles of water, protein bars, and a rucksack with a change of clothes for Conall. She grabbed it.
Once the kit and rucksack were inside the room, Thea returned for Conall.
“Right, big guy.” She opened the rear passenger door thinking it might be less painful for him if she pulled him out feet first. “Here goes nothing.”
Thea couldn’t get her hands all the way around his calves, they were that thick with muscle. Jesus, this guy was huge. “What do you eat?” she murmured, hauling him out and ignoring his groans of displeasure. “Steroid Popsicles?”
Conall stumbled on his feet as Thea wrapped her arm around his back to hold him up. He was worse than before, falling heavily into her, giving her his entire weight.
“Holy crap.” She braced against him. His weight wasn’t the issue, it was his size. He was at least nine inches taller than her and made of solid muscle. Unless he wanted her dragging his legs across concrete, she’d need a little help. There was only one way Thea knew how to make him angry enough to come around. “Wolf Boy, help me out here, yeah?”
His head snapped up, his eyes opening to little slits. “Brat,” he grouched, but it did the trick.
Curse words Thea had never even heard before filled her ears as she helped Conall into the motel room. Not wanting blood on the sheets, she took him into the small bathroom and tried to lay him gently on his stomach … but he kind of hit the ground. Hard.
“Sorry.” She winced before she hurried to lock the door and grab the first aid kit.
Inside she found scissors and began to cut off his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Cutting off your shirt.”
“You’re … helping me?”
Thea snorted. “Just catching up, huh?”
His hands lay near his face, palms to the bathroom floor, but they curled into fists. “Why?”
She’d been asking herself that for the past hour. “You covered me back there. I know you did it for your own selfish reasons, but I owe you. I don’t like owing anyone.”
After that Conall was silent. Thea spread the cut shirt off his back, revealing three bullet holes in an uneven triangle near his right shoulder. The holes were inflamed around the outer edge and silver veins amassed like spiderwebs around the wounds.
That didn’t look good.
Thea felt a pang of sympathy.
“Okay.” She folded out the kit, which was supplied with scissor-like forceps, the kind surgeons used. “I’m going to pull out the bullets. Don’t worry. I’ve done this before.”
In Thea’s experience men had a lower pain threshold than women. She’d seen men grump and groan like babies over a flesh wound that a woman would have brushed off as a scratch. So she was a little taken aback when Conall barely responded to her digging the forceps into his wounds. His body jerked at first, but he merely clenched his jaw and didn’t make a noise as she dug around for the bullet. This guy was tough. A worthy opponent.