After cleaning Luke’s shoulder, the paramedics bandaged up the groove in his flesh (it had actually created a bloody trench across his shoulder, which Luke found fascinating). They gave him some pain killers, reminded him to get a tetanus booster if he needed one, and told him to move it as little as possible for the next few days while keeping the area dry and the bandages clean. If he wanted stitches he could go to the hospital and get them, but Luke wasn’t particularly interested. Olivia had been much less fascinated with the wound and much more infuriated, muttering more dire threats under her breath. He wasn’t actually sure whether they’d been directed at him or Roland either.

Patrick sent Luke and Olivia home, with Olivia driving Luke’s car.

An hour later, Kincaid called to tell them Roland had confessed to everything—granted he’d done so while ranting about what Olivia ‘deserved,’ but it still counted. They’d even found out how he’d been following her. When he’d keyed her car he’d also attached a low-tech but perfectly usable tracker to the underside of her car. He’d just gotten lucky about his positioning when he’d attached it, and it wasn’t immediately distinguishable from just fumbling around while he was scratching his message into the paint unless you knew what you were looking for.

So that solved the mystery of how he’d known where she was, but not always. Any time she’d been in Luke’s or someone else’s car, Roland had been left in the dark. Tonight had apparently been the first time he’d been able to approach her and he’d jumped at the chance, to his own detriment.

When they pulled into Luke’s driveway, Nick’s car was already there. Olivia had made Luke text his brother when they were still at Stronghold, to let him know what had happened.

So he had two nursemaids fluttering over him while Molly swirled around all of their legs, trying to earn their love and attention.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he muttered for the umpteenth time when Nick wouldn’t even let him get up to go get his own glass of water.

“Shut up, Monty Python,” Nick retorted.

“I wasn’t even quoting Monty Python!” Luke said, starting to throw up his hands in exasperation, and then wincing as his injured shoulder muscle twinged painfully at the movement. “Ouch.”

“Stop moving!” Olivia ordered, her voice strained as she immediately pulled his shirt open again to check on the bandage. Which was fine.

Sighing, Luke just leaned back and accepted their ministrations. He gave up. It was just easier.

20