Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 26

She groaned in dismay at the cut that ran down halfway down her pointer finger, the crimson fluid slowly trickling down—and then started flowed more heavily. She ignored it, resigning to plow with one hand.

"Your finger."

Chris resisted every urge to at least glance up at the hint of concern in Stevens' voice. He neared her and gently raised her hand, her breath hitched for some reason unknown to her. To her relief, he didn't seem to notice. His empty eyes rose to hers. "You need to bandage that up."

She rolled her eyes. She was aware of that! "How? I'm not about to rip a section my top!" He raised a brow at her, instantly making her wish she could rephrase what had left her mouth. "And jean doesn't tear easy—"

"Don't bother."He took several steps back and unzipped his jacket. He shrugged it off, his crisp white long-sleeved shirt revealed. Suddenly aware of his plan of a makeshift bandage, she pivoted her head away, a bit disturbed by how his build was carved out. The zip of cotton fabric tearing awakened her senses to the sting of her injury. She groaned in frustration as the darn thing continued oozing out the red liquid.

He was suddenly by her side, startling her. She sighted humor in his dark blue eyes which seemed darker in the golden light. He had the modesty to put his shirt back on—although it was missing a sleeve. He held the end of the strip of cloth between his teeth and pulled. He used the shorter piece to wipe away the excess blood. Chris fought the urge to grimace.

"Does it hurt?" he cooed, the grin she didn't appreciate on his lips. Sure, he was being as gentle as possible, but handling cuts always hurt for her. His teasing mood passed. "It won't need stitching."

"Well, what a relief, Doc Steve!" He kept a dark raised brow at her as he dropped the bloodied cloth and ripped the longer cloth lengthwise. He became more serious and gentle as his tan rougher hand held the base of her delicate pointer.

She chose distraction as he wound the cloth around it. His exposed arm boasted a sleeve of tattoos. His forearm was enveloped in an eagle's wing, and his upper arm held the scene of a mountain's jagged peak. She smiled in semi-amusement at the broad strip of dark brown hair that ran down his neck. It was apparent though that he had not re-shaved the sides of his head in about two weeks. But apart from that, his hair wasn't greasy like she'd expected. Her eyes moved lower to the side of his face. She couldn't remember not liking his perfect jawline. His brow piercings didn't bother her. She noticed his dark eyelashes for the first time.

What are you thinking, Chris!?

He was done wrapping, a knowing smirk on his face as he did a quick scan over her face. Man, what had gotten into her? She gazed at her wrapped finger, shame pouring over her. It looked like it had a turban headdress. Anyway, it was temporary until she could clean it and wrap it with something more proper. "Thank you, Mr. Stevens," she mumbled, her head still down.

"Whatever. Just pass me the blade."

She fought back a smile as she did his bidding. He held the sharp edge between his teeth and gripped her shoulders, setting her aside. He went on with his business like he had never been interrupted—though he worked at chipping the wood with more vigor. Driving his blade in with his fist around the handle, a writing tablet-sized piece of wood flew off. He glanced nervously once more at the ceiling—and then turned to something more encouraging. Chris squatted down beside him. The lock was right there, exposed!

Stevens hardly struggled to detach it from the door. Chris was amazed at the auto-lock mechanism. What was it doing on an old basement door? It was so misplaced for this place—unless someone felt it was necessary to have it there. Her insides tightened as she pondered on that. Someone had expected someone to tamper with this part of the house. The corpse had something to do with this. But why was it there? And who was the corpse?