Troublemaker by Linda Howard Page B

where she could at least get her left arm hooked under his right armpit and help lever him upward.
    â€œMac” was obviously Axel, and the pneumonia on top of open-heart surgery definitely explained why he was so weak. “Are you still on any medications?”
    â€œNo antibiotics, my lungs are clear.” He was finally standing upright, though he was breathing hard and swaying back and forth.
    Something about the phrasing caught her attention. Chief of police was an administrative position, not a real one, but she had still picked up on some things from Jesse. “That’s good about the antibiotics, but what about other prescriptions?”
    His red-lidded blue eyes sparked with irritation. “If you mean dope for pain, why not ask outright?”
    If he thought she’d back down, he was about to embark on a learning curve. “Okay. Are you supposed to be taking any dope for pain?”
    â€œForget it. I’m not taking any more of that sh—crap. It makes me woozy.”
    â€œSo?” A thought occurred, and suspicion gnawed at her. She narrowed her gaze. “Unless you think you have to be alert because this location isn’t as secure as Axel said, though why I’d believe anything he said is a question for the ages.”
    He said tersely, “I have to get around by myself now. There aren’t any nurses or orderlies to get me up if I fall. So if it’s okay with you, I’d rather be steady on my feet.”
    Her suspicion faded because that was completely logical, not to mention he’d probably been increasingly annoyed by his physical condition and dependence on others. “I wouldn’t call this steady, ” she pointed out.
    â€œSteadier than I would be if my head were floating off.”
    That was true, but also alarming. With her shoulder jammed under his arm and her left arm around his waist while she used the right one to grasp his belt, she led him past the kitchen toward the bathroom in the back. He gripped her right shoulder with one hand, his weight bearing down on her as he shuffled his feet forward. Thank goodness the downstairs bath wasn’t a large one, even though it was a full bath with a shower/tub enclosure. He could easily reach things on which to brace himself: the vanity, the toilet, the doorknob. She guided him in, braced his hip against the vanity, and said, “I’ll be in yelling distance if you need me.”
    â€œThanks,” he said and didn’t sound as surly as usual.
    She gave him his privacy, retreating to a distance where she couldn’t hear him pee. Okay, so it was as much about her privacy as his, but she didn’t want to listen to a stranger taking a leak.
    There was no telling how long it would be before he was strong enough to climb the stairs, or even step into the tub to take a shower. Showering was going to be an immediate problem—not tonight because he was exhausted from the day’s exertions, but definitely tomorrow. He needed one of those shower stools to sit on, but she didn’t have one. She did, however, have some of the lightweight plastic porch chairs stacked in the storage room at the back of the house, and maybe one of them would fit inside the tub. If not, she’d find something.
    After a couple of minutes she heard the toilet flush—hard to miss that—then the plumbing in the walls notified her that water was being run in the sink. Good; at least he was a hand washer. She grinned to herself. She could just see his face if she’d sent him back to wash his hands.
    Then the bathroom door opened and she went to meet him, taking up the same position as before. “Let’s talk supper,” she said as she helped him back to the sofa. “I think you should eat something solid, but if you still don’t feel up to it, I’ll make another smoothie for you.”
    â€œWhat are you having?” He sounded only minimally interested.
    â€œWhat I