Chapter Fifteen

There was a dim bedside light that didn’t do a lot for what Ronald needed when it came to the view. William was still a physically impressive man. He hadn’t let his body go soft with the years away from Ronald. It was a matter of removing the blazer, and the shirt when Ronald got a good look at the wound. It was longer than it was deep. But deep enough to need stitches, and Ronald didn’t want to take William to the hospital. Not until he understood more about what was going on.

So the motel off Route 604 near the Buck Mountain turn off just outside Roanoke was the perfect stop they needed to get a handle on the current situation. Ronald had a couple $20s in his wallet. The room was less than that with some change left over. He was savvy enough to know not to use his debit card for the place.

There was a small duffle bag in the trunk of the car. A ‘go’ bag as William used to call it. Ronald remembered he had one every time they went somewhere. It was better to have it and not need it. But William was pragmatic. There was a change of clothes, some toiletries, and little else.

He managed to get William into the room with some navigating. While William wasn’t quite awake for the movement, somewhere, he had enough energy and understood subconsciously to allow Ronald to get him into the room.

Washed and cleaned, the large gash that spread across William’s front, had an angle to it that ran from just below the pectoral muscle down and across his hairless stomach. Ronald removed the jacket and shirt. He rinsed the coat in the bathtub and bagged the dress shirt with the plastic garbage bag from the trash can in the room. He put the plastic bag in the duffle bag in case they needed to leave in a hurry. There wasn’t enough room in the garbage bag for the blazer.

Ronald watched William recumbent on the bed. He pressed the cleanest towel he found in the bathroom against the wound to stem the blood flow. It was better. But Ronald didn’t know if it was because William wasn’t sitting up anymore or that he just ran out of blood. He looked pasty in the thin lamplight.

“Thanks,” William said. But he hadn’t opened his eyes.

“You got stabbed saving me, didn’t you?” Ronald asked.

“No,” William said, shaking his head, still not opening his eyes. “I didn’t get stabbed. Ouch.”

“Sorry,” Ronald said after he nudged the wound with the towel. “You know what I mean.”

“There’s a first-aid kit in the car.”

“I looked.”

“It’s under the seat. And my gun is under the driver’s seat, stuck up in the wire harness.”

William took over for Ronald, pressing the wound. His hand pressed against Ronald’s hand for a long moment before Ronald slipped off the bed. He went to the door, opened it enough to peer out at the vacant parking lot. He went to the car, and just as William said, the first-aid kit was under the front seat.

Ronald reached deeper, twisting his wrist to get at the pistol. It was in a black leather holster. He carried the items back into the room and locked the door.

William had sat up more, resting his back against the headboard with the pillow between.

“There’s some antiseptic and some wound closure strips in the pack.”

“I think you should get stitches,” Ronald mumbled but knew William had already made up his mind.

“How long was I out?” William asked, instead of debating with Ronald.

“Less than an hour,” he replied. He made his way back down, flattening his back on the bed. Ronald worked soundlessly. But he made a lot of faces while cleaning and closing the wound.

“What?”

William continued to smile at him. “You’re making that face when you have a serious story you’re working on.”

“How do you know what my face looks like when I work on a story?” Ronald asked. “Are you spying on me too?”

“I used to watch you a lot when you wrote.” William closed his eyes and sighed. “It was just one of those things you didn’t notice when you were concentrating on a story.”

“I guess I get lost in work.” He removed the debris left over from the wound.

“Where’s my gun?” William asked quickly as the thought just occurred to him.

“It’s in your bag.”

“Thank you.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I need to eat, get my blood sugar back up and start healing.” He grinned at Ronald. “We should order a pizza.”

“Aren’t you afraid that the pizza guy will show up and be like an assassin or something?”

William shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I guess you would know.” He pressed his lips together because it stung to think he allowed himself to be angry with William. Their time was over, and he was an adult. Allowing his personal feelings to get in the way of one of the biggest stories that ever fell into his lap wasn’t professional. If he learned anything from his time together with William, it was how to maintain professionalism. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

“Good, I don’t have any intention or the strength to argue with you either.” William reached into his pants pocket. He retrieved a small flip phone. “It’s a burner phone. Can you order pizza?” he tossed the phone to Ronald.

“Did you think of everything?” Ronald asked him. It was impossible not to feel a modicum of humor when William grinned at him. It was infectious.

“I don’t have the number to the local pizza shop. So, no. Not quite everything,” he replied coolly and closed his eyes. He folded his hands over his bare chest and Ronald watched him for a little bit before he found the takeout menu in the drawer of the nightstand. He went into the bathroom, closed the door, and ordered food.