“We got to Frank’s apartment, and he was dead inside along with a woman. Probably just some very unlucky woman in the wrong place at definitely the wrong time.” Wolfe spoke slowly and deliberately.

Dana’s temples ached and she reached for the aspirin, taking two and washing them down with Wolfe’s water. “What aren’t you telling me?” Oh, he’d definitely keep facts from her to protect her, and she didn’t have time for that.

“We got inside, saw the bodies, and heard a click. Made it to the door, then boom.” He planted both hands on the table and forced himself to stand. “That’s it. Now come to bed.”

* * *

The food, booze, and painkiller helped to dull the physical soreness, except for the spasm that kept attacking Wolfe’s lower back. He groaned like an old man when he fell into the bed.

Dana cleaned up the small mess in the kitchen and quickly returned with an ice pack for him.

Warmth, the good kind, tumbled through him. “You don’t need to fuss. I’ll be fine.”

“I want to fuss.” She pulled the sheet and covers away from him and rested the pack on the left side of his rib cage. “This is the darkest bruise. Are you sure no ribs are broken?”

“I’m sure. Feels different from this.” A couple might be cracked, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. The ice chilled the bruise, easing some of the discomfort. “Come to bed, Dana.”

She finished checking out his chest, abdomen, and legs. “How does your backside look?”

“You can admire it later.” His eyebrows rose. “I mean, unless you want to get busy now.”

Her instant grin healed him faster than the ice. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you had trouble just walking in here. I’d hate to tax you.”

Oh, she had not just said that. He tried to lever himself up on an elbow. “I won’t be taxed. Let’s go.”

“No.” She said the word firmly and then settled the sheet over him, dragging the blanket and comforter off the end of the bed. “You don’t need this weight on you, and it’s hot, anyway.” She extinguished the light and moved around to ease beneath the sheet with him. Snuggling closer, she rested her hand softly on his solar plexus. “Where does it hurt?”

Everywhere. “I’m fine now.” He gingerly settled an arm around her, comforting himself with the scent of orange blossoms.

“Okay.” She drew circles lightly across his skin, brushing his upper chest and over his clavicle. “How mad are you at me?”