The Man in the Buff Breeches by Susan Lodge Read Free Book Online Page A

sake, get this gag off me. I need to warn him about Mr. Hyde’s imminent return .
    His confusion seems to clear, and he leans forward and gently pulls the material from my mouth and the breath whooshes in to my body.
    “He’s coming back,” I gasp. “He’s only gone to the shed. He’s coming back!” DS Salter winces as he sits on the bed beside me. He looks so calm that I want to shake him despite his injured state.
    A warm hand gently encircles my arm. “It’s all right, we have your boyfriend,” he says.
    I blink and realize he must be concussed. “No! He is coming back.” I clutch his arm.
    “No, Shona, he’s not. My partner guessed I’d be here after I signed off duty. Your garden is quite crowded with police officers. There is no way he can escape.”
    I’m shaking uncontrollably but manage to loosen my hold on his arm. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, and he’s definitely not my boyfriend, he’s a maniac.”
    “Yeah, you should be sorry, you have a vicious kick.” He is looking at me with careful eyes. “You okay? Did he hurt you?”
    “Not physically, although he almost terrified me to death.” Now that I know DS Salter has survived, I fly from uncontrollable weeping to uncontrollable anger. “But no! I’m not bloody okay. Why didn’t you tell me you were police?”
    “It‘s complicated. But trust me, you’re safe now.”
    “Safe! I am trussed to a bed post. Are you going to untie me any time soon?”
    He supports his ribs with one hand and winces again as he searches his pockets. I wince with him, feeling a huge surge of guilt. He needs attention more than I do.
    “A strange choice of knot,” he mutters, peering at my bonds.
    I blink in disbelief. “Are you some damn bondage expert?” I whisper.
    “No, but I’m quite experienced with these.” He produces a pair of handcuffs, and I think for one moment that he is going to arrest me. Well, why not? I’m a smugger and an accomplice to attempted murder of a police officer. If I was him, I wouldn’t take any chances. Who knows what crime I will commit next!
    To my relief, he puts the handcuffs to one side and delves back in to his pockets. He pulls out a penknife and slices through the bindings. I flex my arms and wrists back to life.
    “Just promise not to hit me again,” he says. “I’ve collected enough bruises for one night.” He helps me to sit up, and I feel him groan softly at the effort.
    “Are you sure he’s not coming back?” I gulp back another sob at the thought.
    “Just take it easy. You really are safe.” He looks white as a sheet, and I pray he is not hallucinating about the backup in the garden. A drop of blood trickles down his head, and I take a tissue from my box on the cabinet and mop it gently. “You need a hospital,” I say.
    “It’s not the first time I’ve been hit over the head.”
    “I can believe it.” I say, and stop my attempt at first aid as I realize he is staring at me as the wretched tears cascade uncontrollably down my cheeks. His brown eyes soften, and then his arms are around me and I’m sobbing on his shoulder—and I hate myself for it. “I didn’t know you were the police I swear. He told me you were a stalker, and I thought you were going to attack me.”
    “No. Wrong way round,” he murmurs. His arms tighten protectively, making him wince again. I should untangle myself, but I don’t—even though I can hear that back up have now arrived in the flat. Someone enters the room and DS Salter holds a hand up.
    “We’re okay, just give her a minute, and then better get her checked out at the hospital.” I think he has far more need of a hospital, but I appreciate the feel of his solid chest against my cheek as it shields me from the sirens and footsteps which are filling up my flat. The arms that I am contentedly snuggled in finally fall away, and I sense my golden-haired comforter disappears as he reverts back to detective mode.
    I blow my nose and look him straight in the