Ethan stepped inside and unpacked the mobile surgical unit, as Tracker called the heavy, waterproof case he kept loaded with medical supplies.
Duke and his younger brother could be twins they looked so much alike. Tall, powerfully built, with thick black hair. The major difference was in their eye color. Duke’s eyes were a deep, dark moss green. Ethan’s were a mix of blue and green, the oddly colored orbs shifting in color with his moods or emotions.
“You didn’t mention being wounded,” Chaya stated, her tone coolly disapproving.
The frown on Chaya’s face was meant to be imposing, Angel was sure.
“Didn’t I?” She widened her eyes as though surprised with herself. “Now wasn’t that so bad of me? Perhaps I’ll remember next time.”
Natches’s brows lowered broodingly at her response while Chaya’s brow lifted mockingly.
“Perhaps you will,” Chaya drawled, the slow curve of her lips devoid of amusement. “Otherwise, we’ll see how well you enjoy dealing with me once you’ve pissed me off. I wouldn’t—” The sudden order came as Angel considered rolling her eyes.
She turned her gaze to where Ethan had knelt beside her, his pack opened at the end of the bed.
Duke stood behind his brother, his arms crossed over his chest, and he just stared at her. He didn’t speak, just watched her. That brooding, half-angry expression he wore when displeased with her made her feel highly uncomfortable.
Angel brushed the front of her hair back nervously, wishing she’d braided it after her shower. She scratched at her temple a second later, not because it itched, but because that steady regard of his just made her nervous.
He made her nervous all the damned time.
“Get them out of here,” she hissed at Ethan as he reached for her leg. “Or you’ll lose that hand before you ever have a chance to touch me.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Chaya muttered. “Natches, Duke, let’s leave the little princess to Ethan’s care while I have a word with the two of you.”
She could stay pissed, Angel thought as they crossed the room to the patio.
“The wound is still bleeding, princess. What did you do to it?” Ethan asked, turning back to her.
Princess. She should shoot Chaya for that one herself.
“Aspirin.” She breathed out heavily. “I’ve been taking them for a week or so now. They increase the bleeding. The antibiotics should have healed the wound enough, though, that they wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Well then, let’s see what you’ve done to yourself,” he suggested. “Or was done to you. How did it happen?”
“Misjudged a bastard with a knife, I guess.” She sighed as he began peeling the adhesive from her leg. “Tracker cleaned it thoroughly before stitching it closed. It should be healing, not getting worse,” she admitted.
A low murmur of agreement met her statement as Angel looked to the door Duke, Natches, and Chaya had disappeared through.
“Let’s see what’s happened then, Shorty,” Ethan breathed out, his voice somber despite the nickname he’d given her years ago.
She slid him a resentful look. “Stop with the ‘Shorty’ stuff, Ethan. I’m going to hurt you if you don’t stop with the cute little names.”
He snorted at the threat.
Angel caught herself staring toward the door.
She didn’t want to look at her leg anyway, she thought dismally as Ethan peeled the bandage away from the skin. She’d looked at it earlier; that had been enough for her.
“Fuck, Angel, are you trying to get Tracker killed?” Ethan’s curse was low, his tone amazed as he began checking the wound. “Duke would skin him for leaving you here alone, if he saw this.”
Yeah, it looked pretty bad. The wound itself was becoming reddened rather than the healing pink it should have been by now. The flesh around it was warmer than it should be and she was certain it was infected despite the alcohol she’d been dousing it with and the antibiotics she’d been taking.
“Just fix it and stop with the doomsday crap,” she muttered, brushing her hair back again. “And hurry before he comes back in here. I don’t want to deal with his attitude.”
Duke acted like a damned father with a five-year-old where she was concerned. She didn’t need a father. Her biological father hadn’t given a damn and she didn’t need Duke attempting to take his place.
“He worries about you.” Ethan sighed, turning back to the open case at her feet. “He just about drove himself crazy searching for you.”