“It’s not pretty, Naomi,” Nash warned as she headed to the sink to wash her hands.
“Wounds never are. That’s what first aid is for.”
She dried her hands and gave me a sunny smile as she returned to his side.
“You’re not going to faint, are you?” I asked her.
She stuck her tongue out at me. “I’ll have you know, I have extensive first aid training.”
Nash met my gaze as Naomi gently peeled the tape from his shoulder.
“A few years ago, I came across the scene of a car accident. It was late at night, raining. A deer had run out in front of the driver, and he swerved to miss it. He hit a tree head-on. There was blood everywhere. He was in so much pain, and all I could do was dial 911 and hold his hand. I’d never felt more helpless in my entire life,” she explained.
She’d hate that, I realized. The woman who lived her entire life to make others safe and happy would have hated feeling helpless when someone was in pain.
“So you took a class?” Nash guessed as she eased the gauze away from the wound.
I saw the clench in his jaw, caught the tightness in his tone.
She hissed out a breath, and I looked up.
Nash’s shoulder was bare. It wasn’t a nice, neat hole. It was a chasm of angry tissue, black stitches, and the rust of dried blood.
“I took three classes,” Naomi said.
A memory surfaced. Nash on his back on the playground, fresh blood flowing from his nose as Chris Turkowski sat on his chest and pummeled fists into my brother’s face.
Chris had fared worse than Nash that day. I’d gotten suspended for two days. A consequence both my dad and I felt was worth it. “Family takes care of family,” he’d said. At the time, he’d meant it.
I couldn’t stop staring at my brother’s wounds as blood pounded inside my head.
“Knox?” Naomi’s voice was closer now.
I felt hands on my shoulders and realized Naomi was standing in front of me. “You wanna sit down for a minute, Viking? I don’t think I can handle two patients at once.”
Realizing she thought I was going to faint, I opened my mouth to clear up the misconception and explain that it was manly rage, not wobbly knees. But I changed my mind and went with it when I realized her concern for me had trumped Nash’s bullet holes.
I let her push me down into one of the leather armchairs in the living room.
“You okay?” she asked, leaning down to look me in the eye.
“Better now,” I said.
Over her shoulder, my brother flipped me the bird.
She brushed a kiss to my forehead. “Stay here. I’ll get you a glass of water in a minute, okay?”
Nash coughed something that sounded suspiciously like “faker,” but the cough ended in a groan of pain.
Served him right. I returned the one-fingered salute when Naomi rushed back to his side.
“Never saw you go weak in the knees at the sight of blood before,” Nash observed.
“You wanna get to your point, or is this how you wrangle social calls since no one wants to be around your ass?”
Naomi shot me a “behave yourself” look as she opened a fresh strip of gauze. I saw my brother’s jaw go tight when she pressed it to his wound. I looked away until Nash cleared his throat.
“Got some news on Tina,” he said.
Naomi froze, holding a strip of tape. “Is she okay?”
Her twin sister had stolen from her, abandoned her child, and Naomi’s first question was whether or not Tina was okay.
The woman needed to learn that some ties needed cutting.
“We don’t know her whereabouts, but it seems like there’s something in town that she didn’t want to leave behind. We found her prints at the storage unit breakin.”
I tensed, remembering the conversation in his hospital room.
“What storage unit breakin?” Naomi asked as she moved on to the wound lower on his torso.
“The trailer park landlord reported two separate breakins. One at his office and one at his storage unit, where he keeps anything of value that tenants leave behind. The storage unit was a smash and grab. The lock was jimmied. Shit was broken. A bunch of stuff was missing. We found Tina’s prints all over the place.”
I forgot about my fake fainting spell and got out of the chair. “It’s a small fucking town,” I pointed out, crossing to the kitchen. “How the hell is she sneaking around without anyone spotting her?”
“Got a theory on that. We got some footage from a security camera at the entrance,” Nash said, using his good arm to pull a file folder closer to him. He tipped it open, and a grainy photo showed a woman with long, dark hair dressed in a long dress.