Ove lay down on the immaculate sheets of Tina's bed with a groan of pain.

"Oooooh– that wasn't how I imagined crawling into bed with you..."

"You're putting blood all over the place, it's going to be impossible to clean that up! Take off your shirt."

Still lying back, his body covered in a film of sweat, the Swede found the strength to raise his head a little and give the young woman a mischievous smile and a wink.

"Oh, get over yourself. You're losing blood and I've been vaccinated against males for two decades."

The Frenchwoman climbed onto the bed and knelt beside Rapp to help him remove his clothes. He was wounded in the abdomen, and small torn up fibers of the cheap synthetic fabric of his t-shirt had crept into the wound.

"Ouch! OUCH! I said ouch!"

"Don't be a wuss, it's only superficial", Tina stated, rolling her eyes. "How did you do that to yourself? Shellfish opening gone bad?"

"That would the title of my– Don't hit me! No, my guess would be: probably the same guy who fired a shot this morning."

"No one fired a shot this morning", the young woman grunted, pressing down on the wound. "You probably heard fireworks."

The man suddenly grabbed her hand, his face contorted into a grimace of pain and rage.

"And no one stabbed me when I got back to my bungalow, I suppose?"

Tina pursed her lips.

"You need to – let go of my hand – you need stitches. The blow hit the muscles superficially and the wound is quite long actually."

"I don't have time to go to the hospital. If it's what I think it is, it might even be more dangerous to go to the local hospital than to leave the wound untreated. You can sew, can't you?"

The young woman gave the wounded man a dirty look.

"Oh, because women are supposed to know how to sew?"

"What a feminazi..." Ove laughed. "No: with your shitty temperament I thought you'd be more of a surgeon than a skilled seamstress, but hey... a man can be wrong."

A rictus of pain contracted his already tense features and the woman couldn't hide a worried look.

"Lie down, don't move. I'll... I'll get something."

Ove let out a deep sigh and grabbed a piece of the blanket to wipe away the sweat that was dripping down his face. He saw Tina return from the bathroom with a duck-green vanity case and a small bottle of hydro-alcoholic gel. She had taken off her robe and quickly changed into a pair of blue satin pajamas. The sexy pajamas she'd bought for her wedding night.

"I always carry this with me, just in case", she muttered as she opened the vanity and rubbed the gel onto her hands and forearms.

"A suture kit, of course", said the man who had taken a look at the inside of the vanity case. "You know, you were so drunk this weekend that if anyone in this hotel doesn't know that you're a forensic doctor and that – and I quote from memory – you always hid that fact from the guys you tried to pick up because it put them off, it's because they're deaf."

"Did I really say that?" Tina moaned, suddenly worried about what other antics she might have committed during that fateful weekend.

"Why do you think I knocked on your door, you smart aleck?! For your beautiful eyes?"

"Alright, alright."

Tina put on gloves and rubbed them again with hydro-alcoholic gel.

"It's not very sterile, but if you don't want to go to the hospital, it's the best I've got. Are you allergic to latex?"

She'd asked the question without thinking, but Ove, delighted, gave her a cheeky smile and wiggled his eyebrows. He had no time to answer: the young woman had slipped an index finger between the edges of the wound. Holding back a howl of pain between his teeth, he growled:

"What the hell are you doing? I'm not a fucking corpse!"

"I'm probing your wound, you idiot," Tina retorted with a menacing glare. "No, it's okay, it definitely didn't go through the muscle wall, I'll sew it up in a three-layer closure."

"Without anesthesia?"

"Did you manage to see who did this to you" the young woman evaded as she took off her gloves and selected an absorbable braided suture from the vanity."

"Without. A. Nes. The. Sia?!

"You can also go to the hospital and stop messing up my bed with your blood."

"I hated you at first sight."

"I would never give you the time of day if I could."

There was a heavy silence as Tina opened a small sterile drape that was the same color as the vanity on the Swede's abdomen. She put on new gloves, covered them with gel again and then, equipped herself with forceps and a needle holder, she bent over the wound.

"Who did this to you, really?"

"A guy waiting for me behind the shower curtain."

"Where is this guy? I mean right now?"

"I managed to turn his knife against him, but he got away. Ouch. OUCH!"

"Clench your teeth. Why did that guy attack you?"

"I'm a cop. I was here to arrest an asshole. The asshole in question doesn't fit the profile of the guy who leaves orders to shoot the cop once he's in the clink, but it sure looks like– fuck, can't you give me painkillers? Anything? It hurts like hell!"

"No, you haven't been a good boy."

Ove saw the mischievous smile on the young woman's face and growned:

"Don't you want to wear a surgical mask, like all surgeons worthy of the name? Then I wouldn't have to see your ugly face."

"Who did you arrest?"

"Professional secret. He has not yet been judged. Innocent till proven guilty yet not innocent enough to let him run."

"French?"

"Yes."

"And he'd have some goons in the Cayman Islands to kill an ordinary cop on vacation?"

"I don't see why not, but to answer your question: I don't know."

"Or maybe this guy was sent by someone else you pissed off", the young woman suggested as she finished tying a knot. "Voilà. Now for the subcutaneous. This might sting a little more."

"I am a big BDSM fan. And yes, that too, to answer your question, is possible, but I have pissed off so many people–"

"No, really?" Tina said in a sarcastic voice.

"Still, I don't really understand why I'm being targeted. It doesn't really makes sense. Also, the guy in my bathroom looked like a gross amateur."

"He's not the only one–" Tina muttered. "Stop fidgeting."

She managed to finish stitching the wound and bandaged it, all the while exchanging insults and irritating tirades with the wounded man. When she finished and offered Ove some Percocet, he breathed a sigh of relief and asked:

"Can I have a kiss instead, Mommy?"

"If you were dying, I would have been happy to oblige, Ragnar, but here–"

"Can't you call me by my real name for once?"

"Okay, what was it again? O-vay?"

The Swede sat up a little, but the stabbing pain forced him to lie down again.

"It's Oh-veuh. How do you know–?"

"Your wallet. Your papers were in there, silly. By the way, my name is–"

"Madame Tina Maxim Edgecliff!" Ove thundered suddenly, holding up an imaginary glass of tequila. "The whole hotel knows your married name."

"Tina Aveterco will do just fine. You're welcome. Here are some antibiotics, one dose morning, noon and evening for three days. With food if you don't want to get sick. Now get off my–"

Three sudden knocks made the bungalow doortremble. The young woman gasped, and Ove reached behind his back – or ratherinto his pants – and pulled out a small automatic gun. Grimacing, he knelt onthe mattress, pointed the barrel at the door, and motioned for the young woman to hide behind the bed.