Free Midnight by Ellen Connor Page B

Rosa’s command was as sharp as barbed wire.
    Tilly’s husband? She’d mentioned he was a tough guy, but Chris hadn’t expected a sneak attack.
    “You know the rules,” Rosa said. “We granted sanctuary. He stays. Unharmed .” She looked Chris up and down with the same thoroughness but with a great deal more contempt.
    “He’s got medicine,” Jameson said quietly, pressing the knife against Chris’s scalp. “Tilly might need it. So I don’t think I’m letting him go.”
    “She might. But we’re not tearing down the rules because you’re worried.”
    Rosa nodded toward where Wicker had pulled a rifle out from under the counter. Not that Chris felt reassured. Jameson’s breath said he stood close—very close. At such a range, rifles hardly distinguished between targets and bystanders. Besides, they all had reason to off him, despite what Rosa claimed.
    This wasn’t like taking on Brick, one-on-one in the desert. This was a close-quarters standoff. Under such conditions, most people checked their brains at the door. He had to hope that wasn’t the case for Jameson, no matter how worried he might be about his wife.
    “So you know phenobarbital from azithromycin? Dextromethorphan from sulfamethazine?” Chris shrugged his bag onto the ground. “Have at it. Then you can ask Manuel how I treated an infected cut on his heel, or Abigail about the antiseptic wash I gave her for her swollen gums. Today I mostly traded hygiene products. Luxuries, not the important medicines I’ve been giving away since I arrived.”
    Rosa walked over to the counter and angled Wicker’s rifle barrel down. “Put the knife away, Jameson, and we’ll make this work.”
    The man hesitated. Then his knife no longer chilled Chris’s neck.
    “That wasn’t a request,” she said. “You want me to cast you out?”
    “You’d send us away? Now? ”
    “I didn’t say anything about Tilly.” Rosa offered her scary smile—and Chris relaxed. She had this, though the idea of letting her handle his problems rubbed him wrong. “What do you think, Jameson? You think she’d give up this life and trek out into the wilderness with you? Risk the baby? Does she love you that much?”
    Checkmate.
    She went on, “I’ve made it clear to the ladies that they don’t need to do anything they don’t want to. We take care of our women.”
    Jameson withdrew and Chris spun, scooping his satchel off the ground. He took a place beside Rosa, his shoulder brushing hers. Only then did he get a good look at his would-be killer, the husband of Valle’s only unborn child.
    Jameson was one scary mofo.
    Thin and wiry, he wore the sleeves of his white T-shirt rolled up like a street tough. His cheeks were hollowed out, his eyes deep set. The bowie knife that had just pressed against Chris’s neck dangled loosely from the man’s fingers. Another six knives of varying size hung from a low-slung belt.
    “Here’s the deal,” Rosa said. “The only deal, because I’m not haggling. The doc will do what he can for Tilly, including the provision of any medicine she might need—just as he’s been doing. He’s already met her, checked her out yesterday when you were on patrol. You’re freaked over nothing, mano . And he’ll stay until the baby is delivered safely.”
    Chris made a noncommittal noise. Jameson showed visible relief.
    “In return, he receives room and board as long as he’s here.”
    “I’m not one of those dogs, Rosa. If you want my professional expertise, you have to do better than a few scraps.”
    “I see what our food means to you. Bread with honey. Wine. And you tasted Viv’s stew. Even that much is worth your time.”
    Crossing his arms against the clench of his stomach, he knew she had him. But he refused to give in without a little show of resistance. “It could be weeks before she delivers.”
    “True.” Rosa’s expression remained neutral, watching him. “Wicker, do you still have that spare room available