I huffed and lowered myself back to the floor in front of the couch. “You lost the right to tell me what to do when you barged in here, bloody and broken, and owing the richest man in California fifty grand.” I opened the gauze pack and Bactine and began to clean Hawk’s injuries. As I sponged the blood away from his face, I realized the wounds were mostly superficial. The bruising would be a bitch, though.

By the time I was done, Hawk was asleep—although fitfully—on my couch. I laid a light blanket over him, then dumped the used medical supplies into the trash in the kitchen. It was...