"I'm not worried."

His hand brushed her hair away from her face, then lifted her chin. "The secret goes no further. You trust

me, and that's good." Gently he brushed a tear from her cheek. "I have to be gone for a little while tonight. Will you be okay here alone?"

Kristen sat up a little straighter on his lap. "Can't I go with you?"

"No. I want you out of sight. I don't even want you topside. Understand?"

Kristen shivered at the thought of Salva closing in. "I could wear the wig. And I wouldn't be any trouble, I-".

He shook his head. "I'll be back no later than midnight."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "What are you doing this afternoon?"

"At the moment, holding you."

Kristen could feel his gaze on her face. She didn't look up, and instead of climbing off his lap, she curled

against Blu like a cat seeking a warm place to take a nap and closed her eyes.

Chapter 9.

Big Lester answered his front door wearing red boxers and nothing else. When he learned Blu's intentions, he tipped back his head and laughed so hard by the time he was done, his face was as red as his shorts.

"Thought you'd given up being Patch's ankle biter, boy?"

Blu thought he had, too, and being reminded of it only made his already black mood blacker. "So what do you say, Les, should we head over to the Red Lizard? Both of us walking, or just one of us?"

"You think you're tough enough to take down Lester Batou?" The older man roared out his laughter again. "I don't think so, c.o.o.na.s.s. No, I don't think the Blu Devil's got it in him no more. Word is, you've turned soft since your sister married that fancy cop."

Blu didn't remember Lester being this tall-six feet, ten inches at least. And he'd put on weight this past year-he had to weigh one hundred pounds over Blu. "Can't believe everything you hear, Les. Word is you're slowing down, but I'm willing to wait and make that call for myself."

"But you think you're faster, ain't that right, boy?"

Blu shrugged. "You got two choices here, Les. You can either come along and face Patch on your own power, or see just how fast I still am. But one way or the other, we will be paying Patch a visit tonight."

Lester spit a wad of black smear on the porch of his bayou shanty, just missing his already-sticky beard and Blu's booted foot. "Patch tell you we're blood kin?"

"He mentioned it."

"Mangy b.a.s.t.a.r.d ain't got no loyalty ta kin."

"Les, you got his eight grand?"

"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't."

"You shook his hand for a grand, right? You know what that means."

"I don't care what the h.e.l.l it means. He can take that handshake and shove it. You want me down at the Lizard, come on and take me, boy."

Blu let a minute lapse, just in case Lester wanted to rethink his decision. When it didn't happen-no surprise there-he started up the steps. On the porch, he made a quick move to the right, then drove his knee into the giant's groin, countering with a hard left to Lester's protruding gut.

Lester gave a weak grunt, but neither blow rocked him. A second later, he grinned.

And that's when Blu knew it was going to take a little more sweat to bring Lester to his knees than he'd first thought. He had never lost a fight in his life, however, and this time he had a different reason altogether for winning. This time it wasn't about money, or proving he hadn'tgone soft. This time it was about a promise. He'd never made one of those to anyone before-not a verbal promise anyway. It was enough motivation-that, and remembering how Angel had felt in his arms as she slept in his lap that afternoon.

And so Blu waded in, determined to have Lester Batou on his knees in front of Patch's desk by eight.

Kristen called to check on Amanda after Blu left to see to his business. Sister Marian a.s.sured her that everything was fine. She made herself a sandwich from the groceries Rose had left, then fell asleep on the couch.

She woke up with a start some hours later and knew that someone had come aboard theNightwing. She checked the clock and found it was a little after ten. Blu had said he wouldn't be home until midnight so she knew it wasn't him.

She entered the galley and quietly retrieved a frying pan from the cupboard. She fleetingly wished she had the small .22, but she had no idea where Blu had put it-she hadn't seen it for a couple of days.

It was dark in the galley, and as footsteps started down the stairs, Kristen sucked into the shadows and raised the frying pan. A moment later the light came on and Blu was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked terrible. "Oh, G.o.d! What happened?"

He stared at her, then at the frying pan. "Next time, get the gun. It's in the nightstand drawer." He walked past her then straight into the bedroom.

"Blu? Your arm ... it's..." Unable to stay away, Kristen set down the frying pan and trailed after him. In the doorway, she watched as he pulled a pair of clean jeans from a drawer and disappeared into the head. Uncertain what to do, she simply stayed where she was, wringing her hands and chewing on her lip. She heard the shower start up, and when he came back to the bedroom minutes later, she was still standing in the same spot, wondering and waiting, worried and nervous.

He'd pulled on the clean jeans, but that was it. He'd even neglected to finish b.u.t.toning them. In his hand, he carried a large first-aid kit.

The cut on his arm was just above the elbow and wrapped around his arm a good two inches. There was a mark on his neck she hadn't seen when he'd first come down the stairs. From the length and placement it looked as if someone had grabbed his throat and squeezed. It was red and discolored, slightly swollen.

Kristen finally found her legs and came forward. "Here," she took the first-aid kit from him and set it on the nightstand, "let me help you."

"I can do it."

"I'm sure you can, but you don't need to." When she turned, he'd already taken a seat on the bed. "Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? I've been fighting. Someone says or does something I don't like, I take them down. Remember Sam? I lied when I said I didn't enjoy hitting him. I loved every minute of it."

He wasn't making any sense. Kristen shook her head. "Of course you don't love hurting people. I noticed you're limping more than usual. Do you have other injuries?"

"Lester tried to-" He stopped, glared at her.

"Did tonight have something to do with me?"

"Not everything I do these days has to do with you."

His voice was hard, filled with hostility, hostility toward her. Why? "I'm sorry," Kristen said softly. "I didn't mean-"

"I had a life before you showed up in Poke Alley four days ago and pulled that gun on me. There's more to me than you think. Don't be so naive. If I tell you I like hitting people, believe it. And get some backbone. n.o.body likes a mouse."

Kristen tried to keep her chin from quivering. She didn't know why Blu was saying such hurtful things, but she had no desire to ask. He was in pain, maybe...

"Are you going to toss a bandage on this or watch me bleed all over the bed?"

Kristen turned to the first-aid kit, opened it, and promptly froze; every bandage size and shape ever invented was inside. Why would he have such an extensive first-aid kit? He just said he liked fighting. Was he telling the truth?

When she didn't move, he glanced at her, then at the first-aid kit. "Haven't you seen bandages before?"

He flipped through the sizes, pulled out one that would service the wound on his arm and tore it open. Sick of his rude and uncalled-for hostility, Kristen s.n.a.t.c.hed the bandage from him and peeled back the protective plastic. As he stuck out his arm, she slapped it on with enough force to make him holler.

"Ouch! h.e.l.l, what are you trying to do?"

"I'm practicing getting some backbone," she snapped. "And for an encore I'm out of here."

She spun around to leave, but he reached out and s.n.a.t.c.hed her back. "You can't leave! Don't be a little

idiot. You need me to-"

Kristen jerked away from him. "Let's get something straight. I don't need you for anything. I managed to

get away from Salva on my own, and I certainly don'tneed another man in my life telling me I'm naive, orhow weak I am. When I leave here, I'll-" He was immediately in her face. "You're not leaving, dammit! Not until I say it's safe." Eyes narrowed, Kristen dodged the bed to stay on her feet as he stalked her. "Why do you care? You have another life, remember?"

He didn't say anything to that, just stopped and stepped aside. "Okay, then go, dammit!"

Chin raised, Kristen hesitated only a second before she started for the door. Two steps is as far as she

got before he reached out and lifted her off her feet and dropped her onto the bed.

"G.o.d, you're naive. Did you really think I would let you walk out of here? You're a sitting duck for this

creep."

"A naive duck with no backbone," Kristen snarled.

Suddenly he was smiling. It was a real smile that seemed to surprise him as much as it did Kristen. Her

pride still stinging, she sniffed. "So you really do have teeth. I was beginningtowonder."

Amus.e.m.e.nt filled his eyes. "She's got fangs and claws. Now if I can just teach her how to use them."

Kristen stared up at him, angry, yet unable to stop admiring his smile. Finally she said, "You have

another cut on your arm. It needs a bandage, too."

"Are youoffering?"

Yes, she was, but she really didn't know why; after all, he had been downright nasty. She stood and

shoved him down where she'd been sitting. Once again she glanced at his arm. The cut was on the same arm she'd already bandaged, only not as deep and higher up, slashed lengthwise on his thick, bulging bicep.

Kristen rummaged through the various bandage sizes until she found the one that would fit the best. When she turned, she caught Blu rubbing his thigh. His eyes were closed, and as he worked the muscle, his face visibly expressed his pain. This time when she applied the bandage, she gently laid the strip over the cut. "I'm sorry for being so rough before."

"I goaded you."

"Yes, you did."

He opened his eyes. "Then it's my turn to say I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes again, then leaned back and flattened out on the bed, again rubbing his thigh.

"What can I do?" Kristen eased onto the bed. "Your leg... You never said what happened."

"No, I didn't."

"And?"

"It's an old wound."

"It can't be too old if it pains you so much."

"Some wounds never heal," he answered, his eyes still closed.

And some just need the right touch, Kristen thought, reminded of how easy it had been for Blu to wipe