LITMIR.BIZ

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her brown hair shooting from her scalp like frizzy fireworks. “It’s her,” she told Scorpio without turning around.

      She opened the door only far enough so she could slip outside to join her neighbor on the porch, closing the door behind her. “That was fast.”

      Peg held up a brown bag. “This is what I had on hand. A few butterfly closures, gauze wrap and tape and some antibiotic samples. I wasn’t about to go traipsing down to the clinic this time of night and risk setting off the alarm.”

      Fiona took the bag and looked inside. “Thanks, Peg. You’re a jewel, as always.”

      “So where is it?” Peg asked.

      “Where is what?”

      “Your cut?”

      “I don’t have a cut.”

      She nodded toward the bag clutched in Fiona’s hand. “Then who is that for?”

      “A friend.”

      Peg frowned. “A friend? Fiona, you better hope your ‘friend’ isn’t allergic to penicillin. I don’t want to be responsible if they go into anaphylactic shock. I could lose my job.”

      “I’ll be sure to ask him.”

      Peg’s wide smile farther inflated her dumpling cheeks. “Him? You got a man in there?”

      Boy, Fiona had really done it now. “Yes, and don’t start making assumptions.”

      Before Fiona could issue a protest, Peg stepped to one side on the porch and peered into the picture window through the break in the curtains. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. “You have a half-naked man with a gun on your couch!”

      “He has his gun out?” Fiona moved behind Peg to confirm that fact.

      Peg turned, alarm in her blue eyes. “Is he holding you hostage?”

      In a manner of speaking, at least her libido. “Of course not. I would’ve called the police. In fact, he is the police, working undercover.” And she could imagine how well he would work under the covers. “That’s why he has the gun. He got into a fight at the bar and he doesn’t want to blow his cover by going to a hospital.”

      Peg turned back to the window. “Impressive gun. Impressive guy. How well does his other pistol work?”

      Fiona took Peg’s pudgy arm and pulled her back around and away from the window. “This is not what you think, Peg.” Unfortunately.

      Peg smirked. “Are you sure the sex didn’t get a little wild and you clawed him?”

      “In my dreams.”

      “Well, if I were you, I’d make those dreams a reality. You’re already halfway there. You got him naked.”

      “He got himself naked.”

      Peg shrugged. “A minor point. Now all you have to do is get yourself naked and climb onboard the temptation train.”

      “Don’t be obtuse, Peg. He’s beat-up. He’s not interested in sex.”

      Peg released a metal-scraping laugh. “And don’t be stupid, Fiona. I don’t know one man who would let a little cut stop him from having sex.”

      “It’s not a little cut, Peg. It’s three cuts, and one’s pretty bad. That’s why I need you to take a look, as long as you promise not to ask any questions.”

      “I promise.”

      “And no snide remarks.”

      “I’ll try,” she said with less conviction.

      Fiona opened the door and Peg followed close behind her. Scorpio was still sitting on the couch, the throw now wrapped around his waist. Fortunately, he’d put the gun back in its holster.

      Fiona gestured at Peg and said, “Frank, this is my neighbor, Peggy Jones. She’s going to see what she can do about your cuts.”

      Scorpio nodded at Peg. “I would be grateful for your aid.”

      Peg elbowed Fiona aside and plopped her hefty frame next to Scorpio. “No problem. Now show me where it hurts.”

      He lifted the throw, exposing his thigh to Peg’s scrutiny. “This isn’t going to do,” she said, and began ripping away the bandages. Fiona figured the poor guy’s thighs would be stripped of hair before Peg was done with him, yet Scorpio’s expression remained impassive. Obviously, he had a high pain threshold.

      After Peg closed the wound with the sturdier strips she’d brought with her, she said, “Okay, that’s one down, two to go. Where are the others?”

      “The cut on his side isn’t that bad,” Fiona said. “He has to turn over for you to see the worst one.” She immediately regretted her words when Peg sent her a devilish look. “It’s on his ankle.”

      Peg stood. “Okay, Frank. Roll over and let me see.”

      After Scorpio complied, again burying his face on his folded arms, Peg sat down on the sofa and rested his foot in her lap. The look she sent Fiona this time was void of humor and full of concern. “This is pretty nasty. I’m not sure the strips are going to hold it all that well. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve nicked a tendon.”

      Scorpio glanced back at her. “Do what you can. I will manage.”

      “You might manage to get one hell of an infection,” Peg said. “But you don’t need to walk on it for at least two days, if you live that long.”

      Scorpio’s face showed no sign of fear. “I assure you I will live.”

      “He’s had worse injuries,” Fiona added, apparent from the jagged scar on his back.

      Peg sealed the slash the same way she had his thigh, then wrapped it tightly in gauze. After she was finished, she patted the back of his calf as if he were a child. “Okay, sugar. We’re all done here. Don’t blame me when you get gangrene.” She stood and stared down on him. “Are you allergic to penicillin?”

      Scorpio resumed a sitting position, careful to keep the throw bound around his waist. “I have no allergies.”

      “Good.” She dug in the bag and handed Fiona the box of samples. “Give him two of these a day for seven days. If he spikes a temp, get him to the hospital.”

      “I’ll try.” Fiona figured she would probably have to call in the cavalry to convince Scorpio to cooperate. Besides, she doubted he’d be around for more than one day, much less seven.

      “I am grateful for your assistance, Ms. Jones,” Scorpio said.

      Peg sent him a sunny smile. “Oh, you’re welcome. My husband and I would love to have you and Fiona over for dinner.”

      “He’s leaving soon,” Fiona added before Peg had the opportunity to suggest she help pick out the wedding cake. “Isn’t Walt waiting for you?”

      Peg kept her gaze locked on Scorpio, laid a palm over her liberal chest and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Walt’s my husband.”

      Scorpio’s smile seemed strained but sincere. “He is a very lucky man.”

      Oh, brother, Fiona thought as she took Peg’s arm, turned her toward the door and guided her outside. She pulled the door closed when Peg kept trying to look inside. “Thanks bunches, neighbor. I owe you a lot for this.”

      Peg patted Fiona’s cheek. “Yes, you do, sugar. And you owe yourself to get to know that one a whole lot better. He is one fine specimen.”

      Fiona couldn’t agree more. “He’s a friend, Peg. Just a friend.”

      “Sure, Fiona. And I’m too old to have sex.” Peg glanced in the direction of her apartment. “Which reminds me. I left Walt in bed and almost in the mood. If I hurry, maybe he won’t be in REM sleep yet. If he gets that far,

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