“Clive.”
Tanis said nothing, but her poking and prodding grew suddenly sharper. Nolan hissed as she jabbed a finger into his injured rib. Clearly he’d struck a nerve, but she seemed disinclined to talk about it.
“He—”
“Stop talking,” Tanis snapped. “Medic’s orders. Your flapping jaw makes it hard to do a proper exam.”
Nolan complied. He’d learned early on in his days serving in the Imperial Assault Forces to always stay on the combat medics’ good sides. They could be the difference between life and death in battle. Or, off the field, the difference between comfortable down time and a terrible case of jock itch, trench foot, or any of the other minor ailments that sent soldiers into the med bay for treatment.
The silence stretched on for a few long, tense seconds, broken only by the occasional hiss or grunt of pain from Nolan. Tanis was as tender in her ministrations of his wounds as she’d always been—which was to say, not very.
Nolan’s gaze went to the metal first aid kit she’d brought, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he recognized one particular bottle of pills among the gauze, needles, bandages, and ointments.
Finally, she proclaimed, “Yeah, looks like nothing’s broken, but you’ll carry those bruises around for a few days.” She looked up at him. “I can apply something to speed up the healing, but—”
“You got anything for the pain?” He tried to make his voice sound as casual as possible, clenching his fists to hide the trembling that had settled into his fingers. “I thought a few shots of vodka might help, but the pain’s winning that battle.” The liquor had only pushed back the cravings a little; now, faced with the sight of the compound painkiller, the urge had returned with a vengeance.
“Sure.” Tanis turned to the first aid kit and set rummaging. “I’ve got some NSAIDs—”
“Stronger, if you have it.” It took all Nolan’s self-control not to jerk forward and snatch up the bottle of painkillers. “Ribs might not be broken, but they sure hurt like they are.”
“Gotcha.”
Nolan bit down on a relieved gasp as Tanis’ fingers closed around the bottle of compound painkillers. He bit his lip, trying to keep his breathing steady when he wanted to shout for Tanis to hurry the hell up as she fumbled with the cap. Sweat streamed down his face and he felt the burning, clawing sensation in his gut. It seemed an eternity before she finally managed to remove the top, pluck out two pills, and hand them to him. He snatched them from her palm and swallowed them before she could say a word.
“Well, damn!” Tanis raised an eyebrow. “Pain’s that bad?”
Nolan could only give a noncommittal grunt; every fiber of his being felt poised, ready to welcome the cool, calming sensation of the compound painkiller—opioids mixed with non-opioid agents that numbed the pain—wash over him.
Tanis seemed not to notice—or care. She plucked a colorful tube from the first aid kit and held it up for him. “Topical gel to help with the bruises?”
Nolan waved her away. “No,” he managed to gasp. “I’ll be fine.”
And he was, the moment the opioid in the painkiller kicked in. The tension drained from his body as his muscles relaxed, and a hint of drowsy lethargy crept over his mind. His anxiety and the nervous shakes slowly diminished, replaced by the gentle apathy that came with the codeine. Finally, he felt the hint of euphoria and a smile tugged at his lips.
When he opened his eyes, he found Tanis had risen, deposited the first aid kit on the table, and gone to the kitchen. She returned with a glass of water, which she handed him. “Get some water in you, and I’ll see what kind of food I can come up with.”
Nolan took the cup with a grateful nod and drained it in one long pull. His taste buds tingled as the icy water slithered over his tongue and down his throat. The codeine kicking in somehow made the water taste crisper, cooler, more refreshing. Everything was better when he was high.
Tanis came back a few minutes later carrying two plates heaped high with steaming noodles, vegetables, and strips of something that could have been re-hydrated meat. “It’s nothing special, just a bit of last night’s leftover takeout, but it’s better than an MRE, right?”
Nolan’s stomach growled in agreement as he took the plate. Now that he’d satisfied the most important urges, he found he was ravenous. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Probably a couple of days ago, before shooting up his last dose of Blitz. Normally, he’d be reticent to eat; it still felt weird using the bathroom, what with the bionic digestive tract that had been implanted to replace the intestines and stomach damaged by the grenade blast that destroyed his spine. Yet now he wolfed down the food so fast he scalded the roof of his mouth, his tongue, and the back of his throat. The pain didn’t bother him at all—hungry as he was, that plate of food was as marvelous as the ice water.
Tanis ate slower, and every time Nolan glanced her way, he found her green eyes locked on him. Plate empty, hunger satisfied, he finally had the brain power to turn his attention to her.
“What?” he demanded. “What’s so interesting about me that you keep staring?”
“Interesting?” Tanis cocked an eyebrow, a hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “Not a whole damned lot, except for the fact that you happened to turn up outside the place where I’ve been working for the last year. I’d say you’re stalking me, but we both know I’m not your type as much as you’re not mine.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the elevator. “Jadis or Mimi, I might see that happening. On your end, that is.” Her smile faded to a frown and she jabbed a finger at him. “They’ve got trouble enough without some Silverguard pestering them.”
“I’m not here for them, I swear.” Nolan held up his hands—the movement felt slow, lethargic, but his fingers no longer trembled. “I’ve never even been to this part of Shimmertown before.”
It seemed Tanis’ protective streak had led her to becoming the defender of whatever girls worked the peeler bar downstairs. Not the worst outcome for a former soldier and combat medic. Her life post-Silverguard had turned out far better than his—a fact evident every time he looked around the apartment.
Yet something about the apartment still seemed off. There was too much here. Too many comforts, far more than she should be able to afford on a bouncer’s salary.
“So, what were you doing in that alley?” Tanis’ question snapped him from his thoughts. “Unless you’ve got yourself a career taste-testing the muck of every back street in New Avalon.”
“Funny.” Nolan scowled, glaring daggers at her. Yet his mock anger was nothing more than a cover to buy him time to come up with an answer that would satisfy her. She already knew about his useless legs, and she’d seen him in his ratty coat, reeking like a sewer and covered in blood and mud. The last thing he needed was for her to know about his drug habit.
“Those muggers didn’t exactly give me a choice whether or not I wanted to be in the alley when they dragged me in.” He gestured to his legs, dangling limp off the edge of the couch. “And I couldn’t just hightail it like I used to.”
“Oh.” Tanis’ face fell. “Damn, man, I…” She drew in a breath. “I didn’t mean to…”