“What’s one more scar on my face?” Mal sighed, his torso too wide for the quaint kitchen chair that had come with the house.

Wasn’t that the truth? Wolfe rolled his shoulders and tried to focus, when all he wanted to do was go for a long, hard run. He hadn’t given Pippa a thought when he’d reluctantly agreed to let Malcolm provide backup, and look what had happened. Steadying his hands, he reached for the stitching kit he’d put together in the first aid box, pausing to check on Dana’s color. Still pale. “You need to look the other way.”

She blinked, tried to argue, and then just turned to stare out the window.

Kat meowed and rubbed against Wolfe’s leg before jumping into Dana’s lap. Her smooth hands instantly started to pet him, and his purr filled the room.

As the kitten and the woman provided each other comfort, Wolfe painstakingly stitched up Mal’s skin on his forehead, trying to keep the ends as even as possible. Maybe the scar would be very small or even fade completely. His friend shut his eyes and breathed normally, his body relaxed the entire time. Finally, Wolfe spread antibacterial gel across the stitches and gingerly planted a bandage in place. “I did my best.” He stood back and made sure the bandage was even.

Mal stood, almost eye to eye with him. “I’m sure it’s perfect. Now let me stitch you—” He paused, swiveling back toward the sliding glass door.

A light footstep on his patio caught Wolfe’s attention. “Pippa’s coming.” He glanced at the bloody towels. “Go, now. I’ll take care of the mess.”

Mal paused for a second and then nodded, already moving to the door. “If you need me to stitch you up—”

“I don’t,” Wolfe interrupted. “A couple of stitches is nothing new.” Unfortunately, true words.

“Copy that.” Mal slipped outside, heading off Pippa, their voices quiet as they returned to their house. Wolfe shuddered. What had he been thinking to take Malcolm to that area of town?

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dana said, once again looking his way.

Sometimes he thought she could read minds. Nobody had ever seen him so clearly before, and that wasn’t a good thing. Her words were so blatantly wrong that Wolfe didn’t bother replying. Instead, he took Mal’s vacated seat and reached for another clean needle.

Dana audibly swallowed. “I can do that if you want.”

The woman would probably pass out. “That’s okay. Not my first time.” He took a lot less care with his skin than he had Mal’s, then slapped on a bandage and faced Dana. “The men in the truck were after you, not me, and I think you should lie low until we figure out why.” Risking her wasn’t an option.

She blinked. “You’re giving me orders? After being shot at—again?”