Death Before Decaf (15 page)

“He's got me there,” he conceded.

“Good night, Pete.”

“Good night, Jules.”

After stashing my apron in the kitchen, I headed out to find Ryder. He was still lounging lazily on the couch.

“About time, woman. What took you so long?”

Annoyed, I replied, “If it's such a burden, why did you offer to take me home?”

He stood up and put his arm around me. “I can't resist a damsel in distress.” So that
was
what he thought of me. Great.

I shrugged his arm off and walked ahead of him out the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Pete glaring at us from his place over by the counter. I really could do with a lot less drama in my life.

Once we got into Ryder's car, he asked, “So do you want to go anywhere before I take you home? We could get a drink. At The Dirty Duck, maybe?”

I hadn't told him about being at The Dirty Duck. How could he know? “Why there?”

He smirked. “I hear you like to dress up and hit on guys there.”

My mouth dropped open. “How do you know anything about that?”

“I know stuff.”

“But how—”

Cutting me off, he said, “By the way, you don't have to flirt with the bartender to get information from him. A twenty works just as well.”

I grunted. I flirted with him
and
gave him a twenty! “Seriously, how did you know I was at The Dirty Duck?”

Ryder chuckled. “You don't need to know all of my secrets.”

“I don't know
any
of your secrets! I don't even know your last name!”

“I kind of like it that way. It makes me feel mysterious.”

I rolled my eyes and didn't respond.

He asked, “Do you remember when I told you to watch your back with that sleazy reporter I roughed up for you?”

“Yes,” I replied, irritated.

“Did you read what he wrote in the paper about you?”

“No, but I heard.”

“I just wanted to make sure that you were aware. And to say I told you so.”

“Dick.”

He chuckled to himself.

When we pulled up to my apartment building, Ryder turned his car off and said, “I'll just go in and check your place to make sure it's safe.”

“The hell you will. Hey, wait a minute. I didn't give you directions to my apartment. How do you know where I live?” This was getting creepier by the minute.

“I've told you before—I know stuff.”

I sighed. “Never mind. I guess I have to see you tomorrow?”

“Don't sound so excited. And you're welcome.”

Giving him a fake smile, I got out of the car and slammed the door. I hurried up the stairs and entered the sanctuary of my apartment, such as it was. At least I was alone.

An incessant pounding on my door roused me from my sleep. I grumbled the entire way to the door, hoping that Trevor wasn't drunk again and pining for Christina. Although, at this hour, he was probably the best-case scenario for a visitor. I looked through the peephole and saw Ryder standing there instead. I groaned. No good could come of this.

Opening the door, I asked warily, “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing much. I could use a bandage.” He looked down at his shoulder, which was bleeding, and winced. “And a drink.”

Gasping, I grabbed him and pulled him into my apartment, locking the door tightly behind us. “What happened?”

Ryder put his hand on his shoulder and grimaced. “You should see the other guy.”

“What the hell did you do this time?”

“Hey, I'll have you know that I was saving your life, again.”

I froze, my heart sinking. “Was it Johnny—the guy from this afternoon?”

“Yes. I caught him lurking around outside.”

“What? He knows where I live?” I squeaked, rushing over to the window to peek out. This was not good.

“It would seem so. After I dropped you off, I had a few things to do, and I thought I'd drive back past here on my way home. I happened to notice his beat-up truck parked on the street. I figured he was up to no good, so I took care of it. Don't worry, Juliet. I don't think he'll be bothering you anymore.” He looked down at his shoulder again. “Could you get me a towel or something before I bleed all over your floor?”

Struggling to get hold of my emotions, I took a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry. Come and sit down.”

He looked around. “Where? Why don't you have any furniture?”

“I…It's a long story. Follow me.”

I led Ryder back to my bedroom, which was probably very stupid on my part, but there was literally nowhere else to sit. He sat down on my futon, and I rushed to get a towel and some first-aid supplies. I didn't have a lot left after helping Pete, but what I had would have to do.

“Let me see it,” I said, gingerly removing his now bloody hand from his shoulder. There was a lot of blood on his shirt. This wasn't just a scratch. “You know what? Let's do this in my bathroom so you don't ruin my sheets.”

I ushered him into my bathroom and had him sit on the edge of my tub so I could get a good look at the damage. His shirt was going to have to come off for me to be able to clean the wound. Getting to find out what was under his tight little T-shirt could be very dangerous. Gertie would be so jealous if she knew what I was doing right now.

I asked, “Can you get your shirt off, or do you need help?”

“I'll get it,” he said, grunting when he had to move his injured shoulder.

I wasn't prepared to look upon the gloriousness that was Ryder's bare chest, and that gash right above his pecs did nothing but make him look hotter. The badass tribal tattoos on his ridiculously cut shoulders ratcheted up the sexiness factor as well. I tried to keep my eyes on the wound, but they kept wandering.

As gently as I could, I cleaned off the area around the cut. Once I could see it properly, I realized that a simple bandage wasn't going to work. “You need stitches,” I said matter-of-factly.

He looked at his shoulder. “No, I don't. I've had worse. Just bandage me up.”

“Don't be one of those stupid macho guys who won't go to the doctor. This cut is deep.”

“I'm not being macho. Seth Davis can't walk into the ER over at Vanderbilt and get treatment. I don't have any ID or insurance cards for that name.”

“So we'll go somewhere else and you can give them your real name and insurance cards.”

He grimaced. “Sweetheart, I'm a private eye. We don't have group insurance. It would cost me an arm and a leg.”

I sighed. I understood that. I had shitty insurance, too. I bandaged him up as best I could and said, “Well, this place is teeming with med students. Why don't we find you one that will make a house call?”

“I'm
fine,
” he said between gritted teeth.

“Just stay put.”

I headed next door to Trevor's apartment. He surely knew a med student or two. I knocked on his door, and he answered quickly. He was even sober.

“Hey, neighbor. What's up?”

“Hey, Trevor. Sorry to bother you so late.”

He wrinkled his forehead. “Late? It's not even midnight.”

For me, it was horribly late, but I lived on adult time now. When I was his age, I would only have been
starting
my homework at this time of night. “Oh, right. Anyway, I came over because I need some help.”

“Name it.”

“Do you know any med students?”

“Sure. I have a couple of buddies who are med students. Why?”

I hesitated. “My friend needs some stitches, and needs them done quietly. Would any of your friends be cool with that?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, shouldn't be a problem. I'll call my buddy Ryan.”

“You're a lifesaver. Just come on over when he gets here.”

I went back to Ryder, who had peeled back my bandage and was surveying his wound in the mirror over the bathroom sink. “You're in luck. I have a med student on his way.”

“Aw, it's sweet how much you care about me.”

“Don't flatter yourself. I feel guilty that you got hurt because of me, that's all. And speaking of which, what did you mean when you said I wouldn't have to worry about Johnny anymore? You didn't kill him, did you?” I asked uneasily.

Ryder chuckled, replacing the bandage. “No, I didn't kill him. I knocked him out.” He turned around to face me and grinned devilishly. “And I might have planted an illegal firearm on him and called the cops.”

Shaking my head, I walked back into my bedroom. I sank down on my bed. This was a little more than I could take.

He came and sat next to me. “You'll have to quit being so squeamish if you're going to hang around with me.”

“That's just it. I don't
want
to hang around with you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't.”

Grinning wolfishly, he said, “You invited me into your bed.”

I glared at him. “Not exactly.”

“I'm in it, aren't I?”

“You're
on
it. And only because I don't have any other furniture.”

Wrinkling his brow, he turned to me. “Why is that?”

“You don't need to know all of my secrets.”

“Touché. It's just that I've never met a woman who doesn't have a ton of crap packed into her house. You people collect crap.”

My eyebrows shot up. “ ‘You people'?”

“Women.”

I rested my chin on my hands forlornly. “I used to have crap.”

“What happened to it?”

“If you must know, my dickhead fiancé stole all of my crap and all the money from my café and left me. Pathetic, right? Now do you still want to hang around with me?”

His face softened. “Sorry. I didn't know. What kind of a guy steals all of a woman's crap?”

I was saved from answering that question by a knock at my door. I hurried to open it and found Trevor with another tall, skinny guy.

“Juliet, this is Ryan Hart. He's a second year med student at Vandy. Ryan, my neighbor Juliet.”

I shook hands with him. He looked vaguely familiar. “Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“Same here. Wait, don't I know you from somewhere?”

“Dude, I've told you that line doesn't work,” Trevor interjected. “And besides, she just moved here a few days ago.”

Ryan chuckled. “Sorry, but it wasn't a line. You look very familiar, that's all. Where did you move here from?”

“Liberty, Indiana.”

“No way!” Ryan exclaimed. “I'm from there.”

I felt bad about making small talk while Ryder was bleeding out. “Small world. Now, about why you're here…” I glanced nervously back toward my bedroom.

“I hear I have my first suture patient tonight?”

Oh, that didn't sound promising, but it would be funny to find out if big, tough Ryder would freak over being a human guinea pig. “Yes, he's back there. Now, you're cool with keeping this quiet, right?”

“Sure. No problem.”

I led them back to my bedroom, where Ryder was waiting. He didn't act nervous, but his eyes were wary. I said to him, “Um…Seth, this is Trevor, my neighbor.”

Trevor glanced at me uneasily, and I shook my head slightly, hoping he wouldn't say anything. I hadn't had a chance to explain to him why Ryder was claiming to be Seth Davis.

I continued, “And this is Ryan. He's a second-year med student.”

Ryan smiled. “Hey, man, thanks for letting me practice on you.”

Ryder glared at me and said tightly, “My pleasure.”

Ryan put gloves on and got to work, getting bandages and other items from his bag. He cleaned Ryder's wound again and studied it for a moment. “Ooh. That's a nasty one.” He looked at me and added, “I guess I'm not supposed to ask what happened.”

“You got it,” I replied.

“Right.” He took out one of those scary, hook-shaped suture needles and threaded it. Before he stuck it through Ryder's skin, he had me put some towels out on the bed and had Ryder lie down. “Now, I feel like I should tell you that I've only ever practiced on pig's feet. You'll be the first live being I've sutured. Are you down with that?”

“Just do it,” Ryder growled.

I walked over to the other side of the bed so I could see Ryder's face. “Want me to hold your hand?” I asked, feigning concern.

“Shut up,” he said tightly, looking away so he couldn't see what Ryan was doing to him.

Snickering, I backed away so that Ryan could work. His hands didn't seem shaky, but I could see the deep concentration on his face. Ryder didn't flinch, but he seemed to be clenching his jaw throughout the entire procedure. Ryan finished stitching and covered Ryder's wound with a clean bandage.

Taking off his gloves, Ryan said, “That should do it. Clean it a couple of times a day and change the bandage. Now, if you start having any serious pain, you need to go and have it checked out. It could very possibly get infected.”

“Thanks,” Ryder said, sitting up.

“Hey, I should be thanking you, right? Now I have experience suturing a human. Too bad I can't brag about it to my friends.” He winked at me and followed Trevor out of the room.

I stopped them at the front door and said, “Thanks so much, both of you, for helping me tonight. Ryan, can I pay you for your services?” I looked pointedly at both of them. “And your silence?”

Ryan laughed. “Nah, it was fun.”

Trevor chimed in, “If you want to repay this guy, do it in food. He can eat his weight in cookies.”

“I do like cookies,” Ryan said emphatically.

Smiling, I said, “Come down to Java Jive sometime. Anything you want is on the house. Both of you.”

“Sweet,” Ryan said, fist-bumping Trevor.

We said our goodbyes, and I went to check on Ryder. He was headed my way, shirt in hand.

I stopped him. “Don't you need to rest for a minute? You just got shanked and then got, like, thirty stitches.” He was looking a little pale.

“It was barely a scratch. I could use a drink, though.”

I went to my refrigerator and looked inside. It was nearly empty. “I have orange juice and beer.”

“Beer.”

Grabbing us both a beer, I led the way back to my bedroom. We both sat down and drank our beers in silence for a while. He was still shirtless, and I was still trying not to stare.

He looked over at me. “Did I get you out of bed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Earlier, when I knocked on your door.”

I looked down at my pajamas. Yikes. I had forgotten that I had jumped out of bed and gone straight to the door. I probably looked fabulous with no makeup, my hair in a scrunchie, my ancient Belmont tank top, clashing plaid pajama bottoms, and bare feet.

Embarrassed, I smoothed out my hair as best I could. “Yeah, I was sleeping. I probably don't look so good right now.”

Ryder took his time looking me up and down, making me involuntarily shiver. When he got back up to my eyes, he held my gaze. “You look pretty good to me.”

I didn't know how to respond to that, but it didn't matter, because Ryder leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't a knee-buckler like earlier today—it was more like the kisses that “Seth” gave me on our first date. He was being gentle and sweet, very unlike Ryder.

Leaning back, I broke our kiss. “I want to know something. Which guy is the persona, and which guy is the real deal? Was Seth totally an act, or can you genuinely be nice?”

He began kissing my neck, stopping only to say, “That's a pretty deep question for this time of night, don't you think?”

Barely able to keep my mind on topic, I replied, “Don't try to distract me. I want to know the real you. Deep down, are you the horny professor or the badass PI?”

He put his arms around me and laid us both down on the bed. This was a monumentally bad idea—one I would probably regret—but Ryder was sexy as hell, and I wanted him. He answered, “I'm the horny badass who just took a knife for you.”

Slipping my arms around his waist, I said, “Oh yeah, I think I forgot to say thank you for saving my life today. Twice.”

He kissed me again, and this time it was another knee-buckler. Good thing I was lying down with my legs and arms wrapped around him. He murmured, “I have an idea how you can make it up to me.” His lips back on mine, he added, “Twice.”

Wow. Just…wow.

Ryder looked over and smiled at me. “I have to know—how did you figure out I wasn't Seth Davis? And in only a few days? No one else has figured it out yet, and it's been weeks.”

I rolled toward him. “I'm a pretty smart cookie.”