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She murmured against his lips and stepped back. “I was so worried about you.” Her voice broke apart. “What happened to you?”
“That’s not important.”
Mitch ran his gaze over her. She looked to be in one piece and he sagged against the fence, tugging her close. “What’s going on?”
“Paul’s going to jail. Your brothers got him. They overpowered Paul, then grabbed Charlie.”
“Charlie?” Mitch massaged his pounding head. “What are you talking about?”
“The thug who knocked you out.” She shaded her face to look up at him. The concern in her blue eyes wove a ribbon of warmth around his chest. “My burglar. Paul called him Charlie.”
“His name should be Scumbag.”
She smiled and leaned into him again.
Mitch lifted his hands to cup her shoulders before lowering them again. The blood from his wrists would stain her clothes. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. Mitch kissed the top of her head, and a weight heavier than that manhole lid rolled away. “I knew you’d get away from him.” He swallowed hard and told her the truth. “I hoped.”
“He’s a killer.” Cath frowned. “At least he talked about killing. But I didn’t get away. I distracted him.”
Two of his brothers jogged toward them. “We got DiMartino and another guy,” Kurt said. “LeNoux’s leaving with a couple more. Hey…” He wrapped his fingers around Mitch’s forearm. “Your wrists look nasty.”
“I have a first aid kit in the box.” Mitch lifted his chin to his truck. “Get it for me?”
Kurt climbed into the pickup bed, and Mitch tossed him the keys. “It’s the small silver key on the end.”
Cath took one of his hands in hers and shook her head. “You should have said something.” She lifted a hand to his face. “And your forehead?”
Mitch held up his hands. “I had to make sure you were okay first.”
“But your wrists…” Her eyebrows lowered. “They’re not broken, are they?”
“Don’t think so.” He needed her to stop asking questions so he could stand there and take her in and feel deep inside that they were both among the living.
“Get those hands wrapped up before you make your arrest so blood doesn’t make things slippery.” Hal extended two pair of handcuffs. “Lifted yours off one of them. Take mine too.”
“Thanks, Bro.” Mitch pocketed the cuffs, and Hal wished him luck.
His older brother handed the medical kit to Cath and vaulted to the ground.
She clutched the white box to her chest. “Mitch. Are you going to be able to meet Les? Could maybe one of your brothers help me instead so you can go to the hospital?”
“I thought you were going to fix me up.” Mitch cocked a hip. “That’ll be good enough for now.”
“Mitch can handle your brother.” Kurt said to Cath and squeezed Mitch’s shoulder. “We’ve got to get moving and take these birds to jail.”
“Roger.” His brothers ran back to their vehicle, and Mitch touched Cath’s cheek. “Both Kurt and Jack need to go to lockup. They’ve got two felons. One apiece.”
She doctored his wrists and wound them with gauze. “Do you want me to drive?”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re desperate to drive a truck?” He smoothed his bandages.
“I have a chauffeur’s license.”
“I know, but I’m an ex-Ranger.” His wrists stung, a headache pounded, and his bum shoulder ached, but Mitch shrugged. “Not much is going to stop me, but I could use another kiss for strength.”
She gave him one, and they climbed into his truck. Ten minutes later, Mitch stopped at a traffic light. He rubbed his forehead where a bell clapper now banged his skull. “I need you to start giving me directions.”
“We checked the map last night.” She glanced at him, and her beautiful red-brown eyebrows scrunched together. “Your head must be killing you. Pull over and I’ll drive.”
