With a groan, Quinn tried to move, only to realize that his right leg was badly injured. He moaned, afraid to even look. “Do you think that was him? The man who killed Polly?”
Ness shrugged, looking frustrated. “We’ll never know. But he obviously realized what we were and had something to hide. Did you get a look at his mask? I think it might have been Prometheus.”
Quinn tried to force the pain away and focus on what his friend was saying. The last thing he needed was for Ness to start looking into Prometheus again. “No, I saw him close up. It wasn’t Prometheus.”
Ness frowned. “I still think it’s something to check out. I always thought Prometheus was an aristocrat. He could easily be a member of the Viper Club.”
Unable to think of a way to argue the point at the moment, Quinn tried to take inventory of the damage the fall had caused. The side of his face was swollen and painful to the touch. One of his elbows and both his knees were scraped and raw from hitting the pavement at a high rate of speed, and he ached all over from the jarring impact. His head also must have hit the street hard, knocking him out briefly. But he was most concerned about his leg. Bolts of fire ran through his body every time he tried to move it.
This was not the first time he’d been injured on the job, but he hated that he’d lost the masked man.
“Are you all right?” Ness asked, peering at him in concern. “The doctor was here with you for quite some time and said he thought there was no permanent damage to your head. He was most concerned about your leg.”
Quinn immediately stilled. “What’s wrong with my leg?”
Ness sighed. “It’s broken in two places, Quinn. You snapped it when you landed. I heard it. The doc says that it’s gonna take months to heal. He’s not certain if you’ll ever be able to walk right again.”
Sinking back against the pillow, Quinn tried to keep his panic at bay. “Are you certain? How can I do my job if I can’t walk?”
“Don’t worry about the job,” Ness said with a shake of his head. “The boys and I will make certain everything gets taken care of.”
“But what about the bastard who killed those girls? How can I catch him if I can’t even get out of bed?”
The look on Ness’s face told him the awful truth. For now, at least, his work on the murders was done. And as he pulled back the sheet and got his first look at his injured leg, he wondered if his career was over as well.
And Allison...
Just last night, he’d held her in his arms, tentatively hopeful that he could truly make her happy, that he could be a good husband and father. But how could he be a good husband when he couldn’t walk, couldn’t work? He could almost believe that she’d come to care for him, but how could he expect her to stand by him when he wasn’t man enough to stand by her?
He didn’t want her to come here and take care of him. He couldn’t ask that of her, not on top of everything else.
His first impulse was to send her a note breaking off their engagement. But then it occurred to him that she might be carrying his child. He should have waited to make love to her until they were actually wed. He should have known that nothing good in his life ever lasted.
Something of what he was feeling must have been reflected in his face, because Ness leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll be all right, Quinn. Just give yourself a little time to heal. I’m sure you’ll be on your feet again in no time. In the meantime, is there anyone you want me to send for? Someone to come sit with you until you’re feeling better?”
The overwhelming urge to have Allison here to spoil him and rub his head gave him the strength he needed to make sure that never happened.
“No,” he said, something besides bones shattering deep within him. “But could you please get me something to write with? I need to send a note.”