you leave,” the nurse said. “And if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.” She glanced appreciatively at Madden. Even pale and weak, he was imposing and still very handsome. Especially with the dark shadow of stubble that covered his jaw. I tightened my arm through his.
“Thank you, we will,” I said over my shoulder as we walked away.
“You’re the only nurse I want tending to my wounds,” Madden murmured in my ear. When I glanced up at him, I saw that familiar smirk drifting across his lips. God, even on potent painkillers he was still sexy as hell. And he knew it.
“You almost died tonight. I want to make sure you’re taken care of, and if that means a dozen nurses tending your wounds, then so be it.” I pushed the button on the elevator and tapped my foot impatiently.
Madden threw back his head and laughed. Despite my irritation, the sound was music to my ears. It meant that he really was feeling okay.
“It’s just a cut,” Madden said. “I’m all stitched up. The fucking hospitals and doctors and insurance companies just worry about liability. Covering their asses, that’s all.”
I looked down at the rust colored smudges that were all over my clothes and shuddered. There was dried blood under my fingernails and I could smell the metallic tinge every time I took a breath.
“Now if I could just change out of these clothes and have a shower,” I murmured.
Madden’s hand tightened on my arm. “I’m sorry about all this. I never expected…” He stopped and shook his head. When he looked at me his eyes were too guarded for me to see anything in them. He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”
I didn’t know what to say, so when the elevator dinged open, I leaned my head on his arm. “Let’s just go home.”
Madden was asleep in the master bedroom and I had managed to take a very long and very hot shower, scrubbing my skin raw to get the feeling of the blood off me.
I pulled on a pair of leggings from my own bag that had been sitting in the foyer, now devoid of blood and the Oriental rug.
My favorite University of Maine sweatshirt hung past my thighs and I twisted my hair up and slid a large clip over it. Clean and in my own clothes, I felt a thousand times better. The house was quiet as I went down the carpeted stairs to find the kitchen. I avoided looking at the spots where the floor had been covered bright red as I moved through the room. I had no idea who had cleaned it all up, but I was grateful.
I’d seen enough blood to last a lifetime.
My stomach rumbled loudly. It was eight in the morning and I didn’t really remember the last thing I’d eaten. After last night, I wasn’t even sure I could eat again, but the gnawing pain assured me that I could.
I needed to get something for myself and for Madden when he woke. The marbled hallway led toward the back of the house and there were paintings on the walls that seemed more like a third grade art project than anything else. There were similar works hanging in the Cross building and I was sure that whoever had done them was someone of note.
The whole house was a showpiece but there wasn’t a single thing in it that made me think of Madden. There were no pictures, no souvenirs or personalization. It was very beautiful, stunning actually, but it was cold.
So it is like Madden, a voice in my head chided.
No, that was only a part of him. There was so much more to his life and I’d caught glimpses of it—enough to know that Madden Cross only got deeper and deeper the more you learned, like a lake that turned out to be deeper than the Mariana Trench.
I found the kitchen and grabbed a few fancy bottled waters from the enormous fridge and made myself a quick sandwich.
A search of the walk-in pantry turned up some sea salted wafer crackers for Madden, since the doctor advised against heavy food right away.
I carried it all back upstairs and set the waters and crackers on the nightstand, in case he needed them when he woke. I was exhausted but sleep refused to come, so I finished my sandwich and pulled a blanket over my legs, and settled