CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Rachel was roused from her slumber by the sound of running water. The lamp had been turned off and the main room of his home was in darkness except for the light emanating from the bathroom. She swung her feet onto the floor, pulled her clothes off, and went to join him in the shower.
She was not prepared.
He was hunkered down n***d, holding his hands to his head in obvious agony as the steaming water fell over him. His hands, forearms, and legs were swathed in blood. His clothes were scrunched into a pile under the running water, blood oozing from them to wash down the drain between his bare feet. Rachel stood, horrified. He turned, saw her, and stood.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m all right—just another damn migraine.”
“But . . . the blood?”
He looked down at his b
