Heroes Are My Weakness(82)

“You can go back to the turret. I’ll be fine here now.”

“I’m not going anywhere until we figure out who’s been behind this. It’s amazing what people tell me when I’m bandaging them up. I keep hoping if I ask the right questions, I’ll learn something.”

She was touched by his attempts to help her. At the same time, she didn’t want him to think she was leaning on him—expecting him to play the hero to her hapless heroine. “You’ve had enough of needy women,” she said. “You’re not responsible for me.”

He acted as if he didn’t hear her. “I’ll bring some furniture down from Harp House. There’s a bunch of stuff in the attic that nobody’s using.”

“But do I really need a mummified corpse?”

“It’ll make a great coffee table.”

He was more than true to his word. She expected him to show up with a desk and maybe an easy chair, but he also brought the round, drop leaf table that now sat in the front window along with four spindle-backed chairs. A small, three-drawer painted chest rested between two overstuffed easy chairs slip-covered in faded navy and white checks. He’d even brought a dented brass lamp shaped like a huntsman’s horn.

Mariah would have hated it all—especially the huntsman’s lamp. Nothing was modern, or even coordinated, but the place finally felt like what it was—a humble Maine cottage instead of an artsy Manhattan living room.

“I borrowed Jim Garcia’s truck in exchange for my medical services,” Theo told her. “He had a small accident with his power saw. These lobstermen are so damn stubborn. They’d rather risk gangrene than make a trip to the mainland to see a doctor.”

“Lisa was up at the house again,” Annie told him. “She’s still mad at you for not taking the jelly bean out of Alyssa’s nose. I did a Web search and showed her what could have happened if you’d tried to handle it yourself.”

“Three other people are pissed at me, but I’m already doing more than I’m qualified for, and they can just deal with it.”

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was becoming increasingly absorbed in island life. It must be good for him because he seemed to laugh more, and he no longer looked quite as tense. “You haven’t killed anybody yet,” she said. “That’s good news.”

“Only because I have a couple of doctor buddies helping me over the phone.”

She was so used to thinking of Theo as a loner that she found it hard to imagine him having friends.


AFTER ANOTHER LUSCIOUS BOUT OF sexual depravity, they fell asleep in their separate beds, something that seemed to annoy Theo more each night. A pounding on the door jerked Annie upright in bed. Shoving her hair from her face, she untangled her legs from the blankets.

“Don’t shoot!” an unfamiliar voice called out. She was glad someone was taking her sign seriously, but she still reached in her bedside table for the pistol.

Theo was already at the front door when she got to the living room. The early March winds had picked up and snow tapped against the front window. She kept the pistol at her side as he turned the knob. Judy Kester’s son Kurt, the one who’d helped her move the furniture, stood on the other side. “It’s Kim,” he said frantically. “She’s gone into labor early, and the medevac helicopter’s grounded. We need you.”

“Shit.” Not the most professional response, but Annie didn’t blame Theo. He gestured Kurt inside. “Wait here.” He passed Annie on his way to grab some clothes. “Get dressed. You’re going with me.”





Chapter Eighteen


THEO CLUTCHED HIS PHONE to his ear with one hand, the steering wheel with the other. “I know the weather’s bad. Do you think I can’t see? But we need a helicopter out here, and we need it now!”

The wind buffeted the Range Rover, and the taillights of Kurt’s truck gleamed like demonic eyes on the road in front of them as they followed him into town. Kurt said the baby wasn’t due for another two weeks and that he and his wife had planned to head to the mainland on Friday. “We were going to leave the kids with my mom and stay with Kim’s cousin near the hospital,” he’d said. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Theo seemed to recognize that he was being unreasonable with the person on the other end of the phone because he calmed down. “Yeah, I understand . . . Yes, I know . . . All right.”

As he tossed his cell aside, Annie regarded him sympathetically. “Am I tagging along because you don’t want me to be alone in the cottage or because you need moral support?”

“Both.” His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

“Excellent. I was afraid you were bringing me along for my midwifery skills. Of which I have none.”

He grunted.

“All I know about childbirth is what I’ve seen on TV,” she said. “And that it’s supposed to hurt a lot.”

He didn’t respond.

“Do you know anything about childbirth?” she asked.

“Hell, no.”

“But . . .”

“I’ve had training, if that’s what you mean. But you might say I’m missing any real-life experience.”

“You’ll do great.”