FightforLove

by Samantha Kane

  “No. Go away, Kitty.” Now he sounded weary and sad and miserable. His voice was very low and she thought he might be leaning against the door as she was.

  “Thom,” she whispered. She turned to his assistant. “Go,” she told him. “The office is closed for the rest of the day.”

  He stood undecided for a moment. “Someone’s got to take care of him,” he finally said, wringing his hands. “He’s got to eat. He won’t go home. He doesn’t sleep, you know.”

  “Be quiet, Clarence,” Thom said through the door. His voice was slurred and there wasn’t much authority behind his words. Just that same weariness. She heard a sound like something was sliding against the door and then a thump. “Yes, go,” Thom said. His voice was coming from down low. Kitty wasn’t sure if he’d fallen or he’d sat down right there on the floor. “Both of you.”

  Kitty put both hands on the door and pressed against it. She had to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Thom, I won’t. I won’t leave you.”

  “You should,” he told her through the door. He sounded very tired, as if he were falling asleep.

  His assistant, Clarence, motioned her over. “He’s going to be out for a while,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay.”

  Kitty sniffed, knowing she was going to cry and hating it. She sat down in Clarence’s abandoned chair and searched for a handkerchief. She finally found one in her pocket. “What’s going on?” she asked, wiping the corners of her eyes and sniffing miserably. Is this what Thom had been doing for months?

  “How well do you know him?” Clarence asked, sitting on the corner of the desk and watching her. He was a small man, trim with a little beard and mustache, a wave of dark hair lying across his forehead. There was nothing threatening about him.

  “Not as well as I thought,” Kitty said. “I never imagined…I mean, I knew he was unhappy, but…never this.”

  “He can’t treat patients anymore.” Clarence stated it as fact. “It reminds him too much of the war.”

  “But he treated one last night!” Kitty exclaimed. “He saved her life.”

  “Ah,” Clarence said, his face indicating she’d revealed something. “That explains his mood today. He was already well into the bottle when I arrived this morning.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kitty said, throwing her hands up. “He’s a doctor. I’ve seen him treat patients before. He has this office.” She gestured around them.

  “Well, he doesn’t treat cuts and bruises here,” Clarence said dryly. “He offers treatment of a different kind for nervous conditions.”

  “Like hell he does,” Kitty said angrily. “He’s fucking for money. I heard that man.” She’d be a hypocrite if she denounced him for it. But she knew he must be in a bad way if it had come to this.

  Clarence looked scandalized by her language. “Well, I…”

  She stood and began to pace. “You said he doesn’t sleep. What do you mean?”

  “He can’t. He sees them.”

  “Sees whom?” she asked, confused.

  Clarence sighed. “I worked with him once, during the war. At Badajoz. Do you know that place?”

  She nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Mr. North was injured there.”

  Clarence nodded. “Know him, do you? Yes, he was. Doctor Peters saved his life. He saved many lives that day.”

  Kitty nodded, biting her lip. She didn’t like to think about Thom at war. He wasn’t made for it. He was too gentle and kind for the harshness of war.

  “But he doesn’t remember those,” Clarence told her. He walked over and gathered his coat and hat from a peg near his desk. He turned and faced her. “He had to play God that day, as he calls it. When they brought in the injured men he had to decide who could be saved and who couldn’t.” He pointed to the right. “On that side of the tent went the ones who couldn’t be saved.” He pointed to the left. “On that side were the ones who could.” He met her eyes. “After the last patient went through I saw him looking at them all. He was literally pulling the blankets away and looking at the dead. He sat and held the hands of a couple who took longer to die than others.” Clarence pulled on his coat and buttoned it. “He sees the dead when he closes his eyes, and he blames himself for it. He was on the Peninsula for three years. He’s haunted by the ghosts of war, ma’am. And he tries to drown them with the drink.”

  Clarence now stood at the door and put his hat on. “But I saw him save men who ought not to have had a chance to live, like Mr. North. I saw him work miracles, and I saw him cry over the dead. And that’s why I stay. I’m going to fetch some food, which hopefully I can get him to eat when he comes to. Good afternoon.”

  Kitty was crying into her handkerchief as she watched him leave. She didn’t know what to do. But she knew she couldn’t leave Thom here. Not like this. She wiped her cheeks and forced herself to stop crying. She wasn’t going to help Thom with that sniveling nonsense. She’d wait for Clarence to return. And then she was going to get Devlin. Damn his dictates. He was going to help her do something whether he liked it or not.

  Chapter Seven

  “No.” Dev glared at Kitty. “I will not.”

  “Yes, you will,” she said with an answering glare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He threw the pen down on his desk in disgust. “Because I knew this is how you’d react. Kitty, he’s made his choices. I told you to leave the man alone.”

  “I won’t. He needs me.”

  I need you, Dev wanted to say, but he didn’t. “He needs a good thrashing is what he needs,” Dev muttered.

  “For me,” Kitty said in a little voice. “Please, Dev.”

  Dev covered his face with his hands, his elbows on his desk, and sighed. He couldn’t say no when she asked like that. But he didn’t have to like it. He sat up and shoved his chair back. “Fine,” he said, his displeasure evident. “But you’re not going with me.”

  “Oh yes—”

  Dev cut her off. “You heard me. The last time I had to sober him up there was puking and other things you don’t need to see.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said firmly, following him out the door.

  He stopped and put his hands on her arms. Bending down he stared directly into her eyes. “You don’t, but he might. Leave the man a little dignity, Kitty. I’ll send word when he’s fit to be seen. All right?”

  Kitty bit her lip in indecision. “Are you sure?” she asked in that little, unsure voice that did him in.

  “I’m sure,” he said. And he was. Based on the doctor’s behavior the night before, he definitely did not want Kitty to see him like that. He had no desire to do the doctor any favors, but once he was sober Dev might be able to talk some sense into him, like staying the hell away from Kitty. That hadn’t gone so well before, but Dev could be a persistent bastard.

  He signaled to Rufus. “Come on,” he said impatiently. “We have to play rescuers again. As if I haven’t got anything better to do than sober up your pathetic doctor.”

  “Dev,” Kitty called after him, “be nice. I mean it.”

  “Yes, yes,” Dev said impatiently. “I’m always nice.”

  “Who are you?” an officious little man asked as Dev and Rufus pushed their way past him at Peters’ office door.

  “I am O’Shaughnessy,” Dev said, taking off his hat. The man paled considerably. “I see you know what that means.”

  To his credit the man stood his ground, barring Dev and Rufus further entrance. He shook his head. “No. I know who you are, but not what this means.”

  “You’re Clarence. My girl Kitty sent me,” he said roughly.

  “Your girl?” Clarence exclaimed with consternation. “But I thought…” He let the sentence taper off.

  Dev huffed in annoyance. “Where is he?”

  Clarence peered over his shoulder. Dev followed his gaze to a closed door.

  “Key.” He held out his hand expectantly. After a moment Dev raised his brow imperiously. It did the trick. Clarence went to his desk and got a key out o
f a drawer. “Thank you.” Dev looked over his shoulder. “Rufus, see Clarence home.”

  “Oh, see here,” Clarence blustered. “I’m not leaving him alone with you.”

  “Oh yes you are,” Dev barked, heartily sick of being told what people were or weren’t going to do. They damn well would do what he told them to. “Rufus.”

  “Come on,” Rufus said none too gently. He grabbed the man’s coat and hat and threw them at him. “O’Shaughnessy says go, we go.”

  Clarence awkwardly caught his garments right before Rufus grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door.

  “Rufus,” Dev said, watching them. “Give Clarence whatever he needs.”

  Rufus stopped in his tracks and looked at Dev over his shoulder. His eyes were calculating. “Anything?”

  “Anything he wants,” Dev replied, turning away. He wasn’t sure why he made Rufus the offer, knowing it would keep him away for a while. Among a certain set Rufus was infamous for his giant cock and an insatiable appetite. If Dev didn’t miss his guess, Clarence was very much a part of that set. And it paid to keep Rufus happy. They’d been so busy lately he hadn’t had time for much fucking.

  He and Rufus had met the night Dev had killed the pimp who owned Kitty’s papers. He’d owned Dev once too, until Dev had gotten too big for that line of work. Then he’d been sold and learned to steal and con. He was sent out into the rookeries, where he soon learned to be hard and mean. He’d been nineteen the night he killed Caldwell. It was his declaration of independence. Rufus had been with a whore at the house and come running when he heard the shot. Rufus was the first to find the office, and he closed the door immediately, locking the two of them in there with the dead body. He’d stared at Dev with his signature calculation, a man summing up the situation.

  “Who do I pay now?” he’d surprised Dev by asking.

  “Me,” Dev had answered. There was no going back after that.

  “All right, then,” Rufus had replied. “I need a job.”

  “What can you do?” Dev had asked, calm even as they stood over the dead body, assessing one another.

  “Whatever you want,” he’d answered with a lustful grin.

  “I don’t want that,” Dev had dismissed him. “I’ve had enough of it.”

  Just then the door had flown open and Grady, Caldwell’s protection man, had stared in astonishment at them all. He’d lifted his gun to shoot Dev and hadn’t gotten it halfway up before Rufus put a bullet through his head.

  After a moment of stunned silence, Dev had told him, “You’re hired.”

  They’d been together ever since.

  Dev headed toward the locked door and behind him he heard the door open and close, cutting Clarence’s protests off.

  It took longer to sober Peters up than it had the night before. Apparently he’d imbibed more than usual after his brief turn at sobriety. Dev had been ministering to him for a half hour at least when he pulled the doctor’s head out of the cold water again. “Come on, now,” he said encouragingly. “Who am I?” He was crouched next to the doctor, who was on all fours on the floor.

  “The devil,” Peters choked out.

  “Close, but not close enough,” Dev answered. He dunked the doctor’s head again with undisguised relish. He’d had to take off his coat and waistcoat. He didn’t want to get them wet or puked on. His shirt was soaked and clinging to him uncomfortably.

  Peters waved his hand in the air in a feeble attempt to hit him, and Dev pulled him up.

  “O’Shaughnessy,” Peters gasped. “Devlin.”

  “Right then,” Dev said. He let go and Peters fell back to sit on the floor gracelessly.

  Dev stood and fished around in the cabinets for a towel of some kind. He found a stack of clean linens and threw one to the doctor, who didn’t even try to catch it. He just sat there dripping and watched it flutter to the floor in front of him. Dev dried his hands and rolled his sleeves down. “Are you just going to sit there like a drowned rat?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Peters said with a great deal of self-pity.

  Dev sighed. “Right then,” he said. He went over and picked up the towel and leaned over to drop it on Peters’ head. He scrubbed his hair roughly. The doctor didn’t say a word. He just sat there and took it. Dev grew more disgusted by the minute. “Are you always this pathetic?”

  Peters refused to take the bait. “Yes,” he said, his voice muffled by the towel.

  “Then why on earth does everyone want to fuck you?” Dev asked in consternation. “God damn it, I don’t understand it.” He yanked the towel away and crouched in front of the doctor again, glaring at him. His eyes were so bloodshot you could scarcely see the pretty colors of them, and his blond curls were still dripping water down his face.

  “I don’t know,” Peters said, a frown marring his brow. “I’m perplexed too.”

  Dev had to laugh. “Well, that makes two of us then. Come on, up.” He stood and reached a hand down to Peters, who surprised him by taking it. He hoisted him up, not prepared for how light he was. He pulled too hard and the doctor stumbled into him. Dev’s laugh died in his throat as he suddenly remembered his argument with Kitty and what he knew she wanted whether she’d admit it or not. Peters leaned on him and trembled and Dev put a hand on his waist and desire crept up on him unexpectedly. He pushed the other man away gently, and Peters moved without argument.

  Peters stood there staring at his chest and Dev looked down. His shirt was so wet you could see his chest hair through it and his hard nipples. He ran the towel over his front.

  “I didn’t think you’d be so soft,” Peters said. Dev jerked his head up to look at him, but Peters had a hand over his eyes. He ran it up into his hair and shoved it off his face. He had sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. Dev hadn’t noticed that before. Hard to tell when he was drunk and slack-jawed.

  “What?” Dev asked, thinking he must have heard him incorrectly.

  “When I imagined what you’d feel like,” Peters mumbled. “I imagined you hard and unforgiving. But you felt soft and warm.”

  Dev took an unsteady step back. “You imagined how I’d feel?”

  Peters pulled his hand away and stared at Dev for a second. Then his face flushed and he looked away. “What?”

  They stood there for an awkward moment. Dev moved first. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “I’ve got to clean you up. Kitty wants to see you. I have to prove I was nice.”

  “I don’t want to see her,” Peters said. “So you can go now.”

  “Oh no,” Dev said. “I didn’t go to all this trouble so you could find a bottle the minute my back is turned. You’re coming with me.” He was surprised by how strongly he felt about it. He absolutely wasn’t going to leave Peters here alone.

  “Not Kitty,” Peters whispered. He walked over to a chair and sat down. He rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head, lacing his hands over the back of his neck, not looking at Dev. Dev was surprised by the ropes of muscles he could see in his arms through the flimsy, wet cloth of his shirt. He was thin but muscular.

  Dev leaned nonchalantly against the wall next to the door. “What’s going on with you two?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” Peters’ head came up too rapidly and he leaned back with a green tinge to his face. “Nothing.”

  “You’re in love with her.” Dev made it a statement because he didn’t need to ask the question. It was obvious.

  “What sane man wouldn’t be?” Peters asked without an ounce of remorse. Dev couldn’t refute that logic. “You’re in love with her.” He made it a statement, just as Dev had.

  “I’m as sane as a man can get,” Dev offered by way of an answer. “Which is why what Kitty wants, Kitty gets. And she wants you.”

  “What?” Peters asked, looking both alarmed and confused.

  “To see you,” Dev clarified. “So let’s get you looking not quite half-dead, hmm?”

  Peters laughed wryly. “I suppose that’s all we can hope for today.”

&
nbsp; “I think so,” Dev said. “I can’t work miracles.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dev propped Peters up next to the door. Now that he was sober, he was sleepy. He’d fallen asleep in the carriage, only to jerk awake every few minutes. If that was how he slept, it was no wonder he looked like hell. Dev knocked loudly and the door opened almost instantly. Kitty stood there, wringing her hands until she noticed the doctor practically dead on his feet. Then she put her hands on her hips and glared at Dev.

  “What have you done to him?” she demanded. She gently reached out and tugged on Peters’ arm, pulling him into the house.

  “Kitty?” he mumbled. “Pretty Kitty.”

  “He keeps saying that,” groused Dev. “And I didn’t do anything. I sobered him up and now he’s sleepy, is all.”

  “Help me get him to the bedroom, then,” Kitty ordered. She had the doctor’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and she was trying to drag him farther into the house.

  Dev sighed. “Jesus bloody wept,” he cursed. “Let me.” He pulled the doctor away from her and slung him over his shoulder. It was how they’d gotten from the carriage to the door.

  “O’Shaughnessy,” the doctor mumbled. “Devlin.”

  “That’s right,” Dev said, patting him on the rump. “Good boy.”

  When they reached the bedroom he dumped Peters on the bed and stepped back. Kitty immediately began to take off his boots. “Get his coat, Dev,” she said.

  “I just got him into his damn coat,” Dev said in disgust. “Now I have to get him out of it?” In spite of his protest, he did as she asked, just not gently. The doctor didn’t seem to notice. He fell back on the bed and curled into a ball, snoring. For a man who didn’t sleep he was doing a damn fine job of it. Kitty dragged a blanket over him.

  “Wonderful,” Dev said sarcastically. “Now where are we going to sleep?”

  “I’m sleeping on the sofa in the drawing room,” Kitty said primly. “I don’t know where you’re sleeping.”

  “That’s the thanks I get?” Dev asked incredulously. “I spend hours getting him sober and clean and bring him to you, and I get the cold shoulder?”