Conceal, Protect - By Carol Ericson Page 0,10
“Can I get some help here? Dude broke my nose.”
J.D. flexed his fingers, and Noelle noticed a smear of blood on one knuckle.
She shuffled forward and stopped, still wary of the danger glittering in his hooded eyes—even though that danger wasn’t directed at her. “Did you hurt your hand?”
“Yeah, he hurt his hand—on my nose,” Ted wailed and stumbled into the house.
Noelle held J.D.’s gaze, feeling drawn to this man who had gone to battle for her. It had been a long time since someone had been there to protect her.
Bit by bit, J.D. came down from the ledge. He flexed his fingers again. Blinked. Rotated his shoulders. Puffed out a breath.
“It’s nothing.” He rubbed his knuckles against the thigh of his jeans and tipped his chin toward the open door. “Sorry about your brother.”
My brother.
As if coming out of a trance, she covered her mouth with her hand and spun around. “Ted!”
“About damn time.” Ted shot her an accusing glance over the hand clapped over his bleeding nose.
“I’ll get you some paper towels and ice.”
J.D. had followed her into the house and approached Ted, who held up one hand. “Stay away from me.”
“Sorry, man. I thought you were an intruder. Someone broke into your sister’s house earlier.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Noelle pulled open the freezer door and scooped some ice into a bowl. Did J.D. think it odd that her brother had to make that denial?
“Didn’t say it was. Sit.”
As Noelle carried the ice into the living room, Ted sank to the edge of the couch. She crouched beside him and handed him a wet paper towel. “Clean up the blood first, wrap this paper towel around some ice and put it on the bridge of your nose.”
Ted dragged the paper towel across his nose, keeping an eye on J.D. hovering behind her. “So what did they steal? The people who broke in, I mean?”
“Some prescription meds.”
His eyes widened. “Wasn’t me.” His gaze shifted to J.D. “I’m clean, have been for seven months.”
“Congratulations. Weird coincidence, though—someone breaks in, steals some drugs and then you show up.”
“Would I show up if I’d just stolen from you?” He tossed a bloody lump of paper towel on the coffee table.
“Pick that up.” She wrinkled her nose. “I never know what you’re up to, Ted.”
“Not stealing from my sister.”
“Not anymore?”
“Okay, okay.” He pointed past her shoulder. “Who’s this guy, anyway?”
“This is J.D....” She trailed off. Had he ever given her a last name? “J.D., this is my brother, Ted.”
J.D. shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed Ted’s bloodstained hands. “Don’t take it the wrong way that I don’t want to shake your hand.”
“Hey, what’s a handshake when you already busted my nose?”
“It’s not broken.”
Ted peeled the soggy paper towel from his face. “How do you know?”
J.D. shrugged. “I didn’t hear it crack when I punched you.”
Pinching his nose again, Ted said in a nasal voice, “Are you a friend of Noelle’s or her watchdog?”
“A little of both, I guess.” He raised one brow at Noelle, and her insides turned squishy.
“H-how’s your hand? Is it still bleeding?”
J.D. inspected his knuckles. “Never was. That was Ted’s blood.”
Ted snorted and then coughed.
“Ted, do you want some water? Something stronger?” She half turned toward the kitchen. She had to keep busy around J.D. or she’d end up staring into his whiskey-colored eyes and falling into a trance again.
“I told you. I’m on the wagon.”
“Booze, too?”
“If you get off one, you have to get off the other. That’s what my sponsor told me, anyway, and he has a point.”
“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. Water, then?”
“Or a soda—anything with caffeine.” He shrugged. “I can’t give up all my vices at once.” He tapped a hard carton in his front pocket. “Back on the cigs, too.”
“Not in the house.” She crossed one index finger over the other. “I have some cola. J.D.?”
“Just some water.”
She moved toward the kitchen and then tripped on the leg of a barstool as a thought that had been niggling the edges of her mind slammed full force into her brain.
She gripped the edge of the counter and turned. “What were you doing out there, anyway, J.D.? You’d left almost a half hour before.”
He sauntered toward the kitchen and parked on the edge of a barstool. “Since I was out this way anyway, I drove up the road to have a look at a place for rent. On my way back to town, I saw your brother walking his motorcycle onto your property. After what happened