Bite Me if You Can (7 page)

Shifting her feet off the bed, Leigh started to rise, only to pause at another pull on her arm. Turning, she grabbed the tube and tape and gave an impatient tug, wincing as the tape ripped hair from her arm and pain shot through her. Gritting her teeth against the sting, she managed to gain her feet, but found herself swaying alarmingly. In the next moment, she crumpled to the floor, her legs folding under her.

“Dammit, Julius! Get down! You’ll make me drop the tray.”

Stiffening, Leigh raised her head to peer over the bed and at the door across the room. It was closed at the moment, but she heard a man’s exasperated voice clearly through the wood. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she ducked instinctively to hide behind the bed, her body seeming to make the decision before her mind had processed her options. In the next moment she was sliding under the bed on her stomach. Once in the center, she stilled and held her breath, her eyes finding the door through the crack between the floor and the ruff around the bed.

A pair of bare feet and the bottom hem of what looked like black jeans appeared as the wooden panel swung inward.

“Stupid dog,” the man muttered as the bare feet moved into the room. Then, four black paws followed and Leigh bit her lip. A dog. Her hiding space suddenly didn’t seem such a good idea.

“Well hell! Where did she go?”

Leigh glanced to the side as the bare feet stopped beside the bed, then moved forward to the headboard. There was the clatter and clink of glass as something—the tray he’d mentioned?—was set down on the bedside table, then the bare feet moved away, toward one of the other doors in the room, this one on the same wall the headboard was against.

“As if I don’t have enough to do with you wrecking the house at every turn and my constantly having to run up here to change the blood bags,” the man was muttering.

Leigh wasn’t paying much attention to him, however. Her focus had turned to the dog. Rather than follow the man, the four black paws were approaching the end of the bed, and she had a sinking feeling her hiding spot wouldn’t last long.

Ignoring her various aches and pains, she glanced around wildly, looking for some sort of weapon, any weapon at all, but she saw nothing, not even a dust bunny under the bed. If this were her room and her bed, there would have been clothes, shoes, possibly a hanger or two. Shoes, or even a hanger, made a better weapon than the nothing under this bed. The space was as barren as a desert.

“When I get my hands on Thomas,” the man was muttering now. “He’s deliberately not answering his phone because he knows I want him here to help with this mess.”

Leigh glanced to the side, to see that he’d moved away from the first door and was now moving to the closet doors. Curiosity got the better of her then and she reached out with her sore arm to lift the side ruff enough to see him.

Her eyes widened. He was barefoot, as she’d known, but also bare-chested, or mostly bare-chested. The flowered apron he wore covered part of a very muscular, very naked chest and skirted over his black jeans. A kerchief was tied around his face, covering his mouth and nose like a bank robber of old. Another covered most of the short blond hair curling in waves away from his face, and he wore rubber gloves on his hands, then her attention was diverted as he opened the closet door.

Leigh grimaced at the sight of the shoes lining the bottom of the large wall closet. They were women’s shoes, maybe half a dozen, and every one sported a pointed heel. A lot of good they did her there, she thought irritably, then glanced sharply toward the end of the bed as a rustle caught her ear.

Much to her horror, the dog had found her. He was now on his stomach at the end of the bed, snuffling as he began to scooch his way forward under the bed. Eyes widening, Leigh scooted back as far as she could until her feet hit the wall at the head of the bed, but the dog just followed, dragging himself forward on his belly and making little whimpering noises that she thought might be meant to reassure her that his intentions were friendly.

Leigh’s eyes widened in growing amazement as his size became apparent. The animal was beyond large, his head a big square that could have passed for a small television, his body lifting the bed each time he bumped it. He was a bloody monster. Huge! He could eat her for dinner and probably still manage a snack afterward.

“I don’t need this. I—Julius? Where the hell did you go now?”

Leigh tore her eyes away from the dog who was now almost completely under the bed and glanced toward the bare feet as they moved to the door where they’d entered. The man was obviously looking out in the hall for the dog, and for a moment she hoped he might leave the room in search of them both. Then she was distracted by a wet tongue sliding up her cheek.

Blinking, she turned to discover that the dog had reached her. Fortunately, his intentions didn’t seem vicious. Unless he was just taking a taste before he bit, his greeting seemed friendly enough. Relieved that she needn’t fear having her throat ripped out—again—she eased one hand forward and patted the dog awkwardly in greeting. Leigh knew it had been a bad move the moment she heard the thump of his tail on the floor as he tried to wag it in greeting.

She squeezed her eyes closed, hardly aware of the tongue slapping wetly across her cheek this time, though it was hard to ignore the doggy breath.

“I should be out helping to hunt down Morgan.”

That mutter caught Leigh’s attention and she stilled under the dog’s tongue. Hunting down Morgan? Then he wasn’t a cohort of Donald and the man who’d bit her?

“Instead, I’m stuck here babysitting a—” There was a pause as the man apparently became aware of the thumping sound of the dog’s tail. Leigh raised her hand to her face to block the dog’s tongue and opened her eyes in time to see the feet by the door turn slowly back to face the room. Just as she noted that the tip of the dog’s tail was sticking out from under the bed, the man snapped, “Julius! What the hell are you doing under the bed?”

Leigh groaned inwardly and watched the bare feet move closer. They stopped beside the tip of Julius’s protruding tail, then a pair of knees and the skirt of his apron came into view as he knelt at the foot of the bed. A bare arm followed, then his face appeared, still hidden behind the kerchief. His eyes, however, were not hidden, and she felt her stomach clench as she stared at the silvery blue as he glared under the bed. It took her a moment to realize he was glaring at the dog, then his gaze shifted to her and he blinked in surprise.

“Oh. There you are.” The glare softened, but there was still irritation in his eyes. “What are you doing out of bed? Don’t I have enough to do?”

Leigh had the most ridiculous urge to apologize, but bit her tongue to keep it back. She had no idea who he was, or where she was, or—

Her thoughts scattered as the dog gave her face another lick. Either he believed she was a doggy popsicle or they were going steady now, she thought, her sense of humor returning as the ridiculousness of the situation sank in. Her hiding spot had been a decided failure, yet she was still in it. And she wasn’t even sure she needed a hiding place. If the man was hunting Morgan... “The enemy of my enemy” and all that.

Leigh was about to roll out from under the bed when her hand was suddenly caught in a rubbery grip and she was dragged out. She managed a gasp of shock, then found herself scooped up into strong arms and carried to the bed she’d struggled out of just moments ago.

“You shouldn’t be up and about yet. You’re too weak,” the man scolded as he straightened, his kerchief billowing against his lips with each word.

“I—” Leigh began, but he’d noticed her arm and interrupted.

“You’ve torn out your IV. Now I’ll have to put it back in.”

Leigh watched wide-eyed as he grabbed the tube from the IV, found the end of it, and began to remove the tape to examine the tip. Most of her fear was easing away. He seemed harmless. A little batty, she decided, taking in his eccentric costume, but harmless. She barely had this thought when her gaze was drawn to the dog. He was finished dragging himself out from under the bed and leapt up onto it to settle at her side.

Leigh eyed him warily, afraid he would start licking her again. Now that she could see all of him and tell how big he was, she was very, very grateful that he seemed a friendly mutt, but not so grateful that she wanted to be covered in doggy spit from head to toe. Fortunately, it seemed he was done with that. He spread out on the bed beside her, dropped his head onto his front paws, closed his eyes and appeared to go to sleep.

A discouraged sigh drew her attention back to the man in time to see him send an irritated glance her way. “You broke it.”

Leigh blinked. “I did?”

“Yes. Snapped the needle tip in half,” he announced, then glanced over the bed. Leigh glanced down as well, her gaze skimming the surface of the white bed for the tip of the IV needle.

Muttering under his breath, he bent to run his hands over the linen surface, presumably in search of the needle tip. Leigh drew her legs up, pulling them in closer to her body to avoid his hands, but the increased pain in her arm as she started to wrap it around her knees made her still. Raising the arm, she turned it over and peered at it, grimacing as she noted the tip sticking out. It almost seemed to push farther out of her body before her very eyes. She’d been so distracted by her fears, she hadn’t paid attention to the pinching pain in her arm.

“Oh, there it is.” Taking her hand, he drew her arm out straight and then plucked out the bit of metal. He peered at it closely and scowled, his gaze sliding from the broken needle to the IV with irritation. “How am I—”

His question ended abruptly as the phone rang. Scowling, he tossed the needle tip on a tray now on the bedside table. Presumably, this was what she’d heard him set down when he first entered, because she was sure it hadn’t been there earlier. Her gaze slid over the contents with interest. It held a pitcher of water, a glass, and a plate of something vaguely resembling dog food... except that it was steaming. Leigh eyed the water greedily as the man reached for the phone.

“Hello?” he said into the receiver, and she eased closer to the bedside, her tongue slipping out to lick her lips as she drew closer to the water.

The phone rang again.

Leigh glanced back to see the man’s eyebrows draw tight together until they almost became one. He stared at the buttons on the phone and pushed another one. “Hello?”

The phone rang again.

“Bloody, newfangled—” He began pressing button after button, repeatedly saying, “Hello?”

“Lucian?”

The dog beside Leigh shifted in his sleep, ears twitching at the sound of the voice that came through the telephone speaker.

“Marguerite.” The man’s relief was palpable, Leigh noted curiously as she eased a little closer to the side of the bed. She could almost reach the water jug now.

“Why do you sound so far away, Lucian?” the woman asked.

The man, Lucian, snorted with irritation. “You’re in Europe, Marguerite. I am far away.”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t sound far away.” Her voice was exasperated. “Are you on speaker phone?”

“No,” the man said quickly, and Leigh bit her lip to keep from smiling at the lie when he sent a warning glare her way. Apparently, he didn’t want to fuss with any more buttons, but didn’t want to admit he didn’t know how to use the phone either.

That thought made her frown. Why didn’t he know how to use his own phone?

“Hmmm.” The disbelieving murmur distracted Leigh from her thoughts, and she glanced toward the phone, her gaze stopping on the water instead. She was close enough to reach the pitcher, she noted, and started to pick it up, only to have her hand knocked away.

“Well,” Marguerite announced. “I called because it seems Vittorio forgot to take out the garbage. He apparently collected it all in a big black garbage bag and set it by the back door in the kitchen to take out before we left, but in all the excitement, he forgot.”

Leigh lost interest as soon as she heard the word garbage, but then her attention was focused on the pitcher as Lucian picked it up and poured a glass of water. Then he set the pitcher down, picked up the glass and handed it to her.

She felt relief course through her. She took the glass in both hands, then opened her mouth to thank him only to find her lips covered by one rubber gloved finger as he shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to be on speaker phone, she recalled. No doubt he didn’t want the woman to hear her, as it would give away the game.

Mouthing the words “Thank you,” she raised the glass to her lips and took a swallow, just managing to restrain a murmur of pleasure as the clear, cold liquid filled her mouth. God, it was good.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Marguerite continued. “I was just worried because we put Julius in the kitchen and he has a tendency to nose through the garbage and—”

“Nose?” Lucian asked dryly, his tone drawing Leigh’s gaze. He was glaring at the sleeping dog on the bed. “Don’t you mean claw through it, rip it open, and drag it around the house?”

“Oh dear,” came faintly from the phone. “I take it Julius got into the bag before the people from the kennel got there?”

Lucian hesitated, his gaze shifting from the dog to Leigh, before he simply said, “Yes.”

Leigh glanced at the dog, wondering how they’d come by his name. Julius seemed a pretty powerful name for a dog. On the other hand, she supposed he was a powerful dog, and names like Spot and Fluffy just wouldn’t have cut it.

“But you got Julius off all right?” Marguerite asked. “There was no problem with the kennel people? I’ve never put him in a kennel before, but I couldn’t leave him alone there at the house. I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone. You did make sure they got his medicine and instructions? He has an infection and has to have his pills.”

Leigh took another sip of water as she waited for Lucian to answer. Obviously, there had been some sort of problem, since the dog was still here, but Lucian just turned his back to her and said, “Look, Marguerite, I’m glad you called. There is a problem.”

Despite the fact that he was actually talking to this Marguerite through the speaker phone, Lucian still held the receiver to his ear, and Leigh found herself smiling faintly. There was just something about the man that made her want to smile. Despite what had happened, and the fact that she hadn’t a clue where she was or who he was, she didn’t find him the least bit threatening. It was hard to find a man in such a weird getup threatening, she supposed, her gaze sliding over him again and seeming to get caught on the ripple of muscle in his back as he shifted the useless phone receiver to his other ear.