Grave Intentions by Lori Sjoberg Read Free Book Online Page B

insurance?”
    “You got it.”
    Now she understood his reluctance to go to the hospital. She’d walked in those shoes before and didn’t envy his predicament. Without insurance, he’d be stuck covering the outrageous cost of an emergency room visit out of pocket. Not many folks had that kind of cash lying around. “Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea—”
    A cold, wet nose pressed against her cheek, and Sarah found herself face to face with the biggest junkyard dog she’d ever seen in her life. With its stubby tail wagging, the dog let out a deep, gravelly woof. It pounced on her with the exuberance of a puppy, pushing her to the ground with its paws and giving her face a thorough tongue bath.
    “Down boy,” she said, shielding her mouth with her hand in a futile attempt to keep it free from Cujo’s slobber.
    “Adam, get that damn dog out of here,” David said, breathless but still managing to sound annoyed.
    “Come on, buddy.” Adam grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck and dragged him toward the door. “Sorry about that. I’ll take him out for a walk. He probably needs to do his business.” He tied a leash made of rope around the dog’s neck and tugged the door open. “Be back in a bit.” The dog charged out the door, dragging Adam into the hallway.
    “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think the leasing company allows pets over twenty-five pounds,” Sarah said after wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her tank top was smudged with dirt and paw prints, and her face reeked of dog drool. Add a long, hot shower to her list of things to do before going to bed.
    “He won’t be here for long,” David said, fatigue taking the edge from his voice. His head fell back against the armrest with a soft thud. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyelids beginning to droop. “Adam found him on the side of the highway this afternoon. He’ll find him a home in the next couple days.”
    “Oh. Good.”
    She fell silent while she removed the rest of the debris, sterilizing each wound with a cloth soaked in rubbing alcohol. It was a slow, painstaking process, but she eventually fell into a steady rhythm that seemed to inflict a minimal amount of discomfort on her patient. All the while David watched her with tired eyes, never complaining about the pain from his injuries or the sting of the rubbing alcohol, allowing her to finish the job with only the occasional flinch and grunt when she hit something especially tender.
    Finished, she lowered her shield of clinical detachment, and for the first time that evening she stopped viewing him as a patient and began noticing him as a man. If she had to describe him, she’d say he was more compelling than handsome. He had a rugged, masculine face with a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. His nose was a little crooked near the bridge, and a thin scar ran just beneath his lower lip. And his eyes. By far, they were his most striking feature. The palest shade of gray she’d ever seen, they held an indescribable depth. Put it all together and he made the most intriguing package.
    “So what kind of work do you do?” she asked a few moments later, redirecting her attention to the lacerations on his chest. With the debris removed, the cuts didn’t appear as bad as she originally feared. If he kept the area clean while it healed, he might not even have much in the way of scarring. She unscrewed the cap on the tube of antibiotic ointment and began dabbing it onto the cuts.
    “Work?”
    “Yeah, work. You know, the job with the lousy benefits?”
    “Oh. Right.” David shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs. He’d lost so much blood it was a wonder he was still conscious. “I work for a private collector. In acquisitions.”
    “Acquisitions?” Now this sounded interesting. “What kind of acquisitions?”
    His brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. “My employer values his privacy, so I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. Let’s just say I