Gentleman Sinner(88)

‘I can’t draw attention to my club, Izzy. Andy’s on my side, but there are powers above him.’

‘I know,’ I grate, his words only building my anger. ‘God forbid the police turn up. God forbid you’re arrested and thrown in jail.’

The noise that emanates from his direction is a combination of a growl and a sigh, followed by the sound of his feet thumping the floor as he comes to me. He’s in my field of vision a second later, on his knees. ‘Don’t shut me out,’ he pleads, taking my hand and placing it on his chest, a silent reminder of what’s etched on his skin beneath his creased shirt. ‘I can stand a lot, repel it all, but I can’t bear the thought of you hating me. Don’t hate me, Izzy.’ His pain-filled face dents my anger a little, our stares holding. ‘I will get retribution. I won’t let whoever did this to her get away with it.’

‘How?’ I ask flatly. ‘Gunshot? Beating? Breaking a few bones?’

His blazing eyes tell me that’s exactly what he has in mind, just as I feared. ‘Whoever it is needs to pay.’

‘And how the hell will that help Penny?’ I shout.

He winces at the volume of my voice, closing his eyes and spending a few moments breathing some calm into his lungs. ‘I try to do the right thing,’ he says, an edge of pleading in his tone. Pleading for me to understand. ‘I hand scumbags over to the police rather than give them what they deserve.’

‘You hand them over to the police as bait, Theo. Give the police what they want to keep them off your back.’ I look away from him and rest back in the chair. ‘Don’t tell me it’s completely selfless.’

His exhale is loud and tired. ‘Izzy, baby, come to bed with me. Let me hold you.’

‘I need to watch Penny. She might wake and be sick or disoriented. She shouldn’t be alone.’

‘Then I’ll have one of the girls come and sit with her.’

‘Do they have any medical knowledge?’ I ask, looking at him. ‘Do they know how to monitor pulse rates and recognize the signs of deterioration?’

Theo looks across to Penny, his jaw pulsing. ‘No.’

‘Then I’m not about to hand over her care to a stripper just because you need a cuddle.’ The spite in me comes steaming to the surface, unstoppable and full of the hatred I’m feeling. ‘I’ll stay here.’ I pull my hand from his and shift in my chair, turning as far away from him as I can.

He’s stung. It’s apparent in the slight withdrawal of his big body and the hurt inhale. There’s silence for a few moments, but I can practically hear his mind racing. And then he lets his thoughts spill. ‘Why do I get the feeling that there’s more to your anger than what’s happened to Penny, Izzy?’

‘Don’t.’ I refuse to look at him, as if hiding my eyes can keep the secrets of my past from him. ‘Don’t turn this around.’

‘Right,’ he breathes, his voice shaky as he rises to his feet. ‘I get it. Keep your secrets.’

‘As you keep yours.’

Theo curses under his breath, walking away from me, defeated. Not stopping him from leaving takes everything out of me. I don’t relish the sight or sound of him in despair, and, really, it’s my own despair that’s fuelling it. My reasons for being angry. My past dictating how I handle this. But Theo’s a big man. He can look after himself, as demonstrated on more than one occasion. Penny can’t. She needs me.

When the door to the bedroom shuts softly, I glance across the room. In my mind’s eye I can see him on the other side, probably forcing his fist back from smashing a hole in the wall. And then I close my eyes, and I see me. I’m unconscious like Penny.

*

Hours pass. I’m up and down from the chair like a yo-yo, checking Penny’s pulse, blood pressure, and temperature at least every twenty minutes. I don’t need to do it so often, but if I remain unmoving in the chair then I’m likely to doze off. I wonder constantly if I’m missing something—something important. She’s not come round, her temperature hasn’t changed, and her pupils are still dilated.

At eleven o’clock, I check her over again, beginning to doubt my judgement and diagnoses. I pull her eyelid up, looking closely into her eye. I’m so focused on my task, searching for more signs, I jump a foot off the bed when she jerks.

‘I’m going to throw up,’ she chokes, rolling over to the side of the bed and heaving uncontrollably. ‘Oh God.’

I dash for the bowl and round the bed, making it just in time for her to spill her guts. Wisps of her hair dangle down, skimming the contents of the bowl, and I pull them back with my spare hand, holding her hair out of her face as she continues to throw up, her retches loud, the stench wicked. But while it’s unpleasant, I can’t help but be grateful. She’s with it, and evacuating any crap from her stomach is a good thing.

It’s a long five minutes until she stops, and I lower the bowl to the floor before properly securing her hair with a tie. ‘Better?’ I ask as she heaves herself back on to the pillow, her brow shimmering with sweat.

She turns slightly dazed eyes on me, her expression blank. ‘You must feel like my private doctor.’

I smile, my ease growing. She recognizes me. ‘Actually, I’m a nurse.’ I start tucking her back under the covers. ‘How are you feeling?’