Troublemaker by Linda Howard

the car all night because if you face-plant, I won’t be able to get you up.”
    Not the most diplomatic way of presenting the options, she thought, but what the hell; even though she’d agreed to take care of him, andeven though she was getting paid well for it, she was still disgruntled at having her home essentially taken over by someone she hadn’t invited—hence the no sympathy. Besides, she didn’t think he’d respond to sympathy—not that she knew him or could begin to gauge his personality or what he’d been through, but if she’d been shot and was in the shape he was in, she thought by now she might be fed up with being helped.
    â€œI can drive,” he muttered.
    â€œFine,” she said, and closed the door. She put Tricks safely in the house, closing the door to keep her in; Tricks, of course, darted to the window and stood with her front paws on the windowsill, tilting her head from side to side as she alertly watched these unusual proceedings. Bo waited on the patio as Yancy started the engine and slowly steered the Tahoe in a wide circle in the yard, stopping when the driver’s door was even with her front door.
    Before Bo could reach him, he hauled himself out of the vehicle and struggled to stand upright. He’d pushed himself so far that now every move was costing him. “Do you have luggage?” she asked as she deftly slid herself between him and the Tahoe and wedged her left shoulder under his right arm.
    â€œDuffle bag,” he replied, his thin voice so utterly exhausted the words were almost soundless. “In the back.”
    She wrinkled her nose. He felt too hot, and he smelled . . . sickly. That was the only way she could describe it, a blend of sweat and medication, maybe an antibiotic swab for his wound, even a whiff of adhesive tape.
    â€œI’ll come back for it.” Given the way he looked, she figured the faster she got him inside, the better. She tried to support him as much as she could, but it wasn’t easy. While she was a little above average in height, he was at least a head taller, and even though he’d obviously lost weight, he still outweighed her by quite a bit. He was noticeably weaker, leaning heavily on her, barely able to shuffle his feet along the concrete patio. There was only a small step up from the patio into the house, thank goodness, because she didn’t think that even with her help he could have managed more than that.
    Tricks ran over and bounced around them, generally getting in the way and making a nuisance of herself, as Bo maneuvered him toward the sofa. “Move,” Bo admonished. “Where’s your ball?” Distracted, Tricks dashed off to find her tennis ball. It wasn’t in the first place she looked and she began hunting for it, which gave Bo a few extra seconds to get him settled on the sofa.
    â€œGo ahead and lie down,” she instructed, positioning a throw pillow for his head. A look of resentment flashed across his face, followed just as fast by resignation. Slowly he eased down, stretching his long form out. He was taller than her sofa was long, his feet hanging over the other end, but there was nothing she could do about that. A long sigh eased from his chest and he closed his eyes. Bo paused a few seconds, then, because he looked uncomfortable with his legs in that position, she pushed another pillow under his knees for support. He didn’t stir.
    She straightened and rolled her shoulders, loosening the muscles. The effort of getting him inside had made her sweat, too.
    Tricks had found her tennis ball and brought it to Bo, nosing it into her hand. “Good girl,” Bo praised, rubbing behind the silky ears. Tricks sniffed at the man on the sofa, then gave a joyous whirl because someone new was in the house. She bounced up and down, woofed softly to Bo, then began racing back and forth from her toy box to the man, bringing toy after toy until there