Personal Protector

Lee collapsed into his arms, letting her weariness overtake her.

He lifted her and took her into his room. Laying her on the bed, he went to the bathroom, wetting a wash cloth and getting some ointment and gauze from the medicine cabinet.

She was struggling to get out of her jacket when he came back and he caught the side of blood on the hem of her shirt.

He helped her out of her coat and got her to lay back.

“He cut me,” she told him quietly.

Tristan’s eyes shot to hers. “Where?”

She lifted the edge of her t-shirt away from her smooth tummy, showing a jagged gash that seeped her blood. It hurt like hellfire and she gritted her teeth.

“This is going to hurt,” he murmured as he pressed the cloth against her wound.

She jerked, moaning in pain, as the sensation rocketed through her body.

He cleaned it up, getting the blood flow to stop. “It’s not very deep,” he said, his relief evident.

Carefully, he bathed the little cut over her eye, causing her to flinch. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead after he’d smoothed the gauze over it.

He checked her over, then helped her out of her jeans and t-shirt, pulling one of his button-down shirts over her head and tucking her arms in the sleeves. She hurt too bad to worry about her modesty.

He pulled the covers up over her.

“Get some rest, kid.”

She watched as he grabbed a pillow from beside her head and tossed it on the floor. He got a blanket out of the hall closet and laid down beside the bed.

When morning came, she just laid there as feeling dashed over her nerve endings, making her wish she hadn’t woken up.

She could hear Tristan in the front of the apartment, whistling a nameless tune to himself, as the scent of frying pork reached her.

Slowly, she eased her legs over the edge of the bed, gasping with every movement. This was the usual for her mornings. She always woke up stiff and achy. It took her a minute to get her bearings.

Carefully, she edged toward the kitchen, her head spinning.

Tristan greeted her with a sympathetic smile. “Mornin’, kid.” His sun-bleached blonde hair was wet, making water run down the deeply-tanned skin on his bare back. He had on a pair of shorts that were too short to be decent.

She frowned at him. “T.T.?”

He was flipping the pancakes he had in the pan in front of him. “Hmm?”

“Why are you wet?”

He looked down at himself then at her. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. I went out and got you some clothes.”

She sat down at the table and he immediately slid a cup of coffee across it. She caught it and downed a big gulp, quickly burning her throat. “Damn, that’s hot.”

“Lee, I’m going to call the cops about this. It’s gone on long enough.”

“You mean the cops my stepdad has bought and paid for?”

Tristan set a plate in front of her and sat down in the chair beside her with his own food. “What about the FBI?”

She chuckled without mirth. “Owns a couple of them, too, along with some Supreme Court Justices and a few Senators.” She smirked at him. “I thought you were going to kidnap me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t a guy talk out of his ass every now and again?” He grinned at her, then composed himself. “Seriously. I’m leaving tomorrow and I’m not going without you.”

They ate their breakfast and Lee started toward the living room, but Tristan grabbed her wrist. “I put your clothes on the bathroom sink and some bubble bath too. A hot bath will make you feel better.”

She smiled up at him, then did something the rarely did in her life. She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll find some way to thank you,” she said and headed toward the bathroom.

-

Tristan was grinning like a fool.

The little sprite didn’t spontaneously show affection very often, but nevertheless, when she did, it never failed to make him stop in his tracks.

He was still smiling when he picked up the phone.

Someone picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, Tommy, this is Tristan, man.”

“Hey, Tris, what can I do ya for?” Tommy Gaylord was one of his surfing buddies from his time in California. The man looked like a complete bubble head, but graduated with honors in forensic and police sciences. He was a brilliant P.I.

“I need you to run a check on someone.”

His friend’s voice lowered to a mysterious tone. “The legal kind?”

“Maybe not.” Tristan glanced into the hallway to make sure Lee was still in the bath.

“What’s the name?”

He sat down in a chair. “Fredrick Adler.”

“I’ll check him out. Gimme a day.”

“If I’m not here, call me up north. Thanks, man.”

The other man just chuckled. “You can owe me.”

Tristan hung up and went into his room to change while he waited for Lee. He slipped on jeans with the knees ripped out and a black muscle shirt and padded barefoot to the living room.

He sat down in front of the computer and did an online background check on Adler himself for later reference.

“Hmm, one traffic ticket and one DUI.” The man appeared clean. “Damn.” He slammed the keyboard drawer in.

This was going to be difficult. He could feel it.