I dropped my hands and sat back on my heels. Somehow, some way, we’d
gotten lucky. “Thank you, God.”
After sending the heartfelt prayer up, I fumbled in the under-sink cabinet until I found a washcloth. Rising just enough to turn on the tap, I got the cloth
wet, and then dropped back down to press it against his wound. I kept one hand
on his back, finding comfort in the rise and fall of his breathing.
Eventually a low groan signaled his return to consciousness. He tried to push
up. “What the hell?”
“Stop, Kayden, take it easy.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t listen. Instead, he shrugged off my hands and
gingerly turned over until his head rested in my lap.
I repositioned the washcloth, noting his bleeding had slowed, a good sign. I
brushed aside his hair and uncovered an obvious bump high on the left side of
his forehead. I winced at the angry red it currently sported. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
He lifted his hand and carefully probed the area. “Dammit, Cyn next time
tackle me where there’s padding.”
“I figured your chances with the tile were a hell of a lot better than with a bullet.”
“Bullet?”
Instead of answering, I asked, “What do you remember?”
He relaxed into my lap. Tiny lines taking up residence on his brow and
bracketing his eyes as he went back over recent events. “We were getting ready
to talk about Delacourt’s call. I was heading back in because it was a furnace outside, then you made a little squeaky sound.” Before I could argue that I didn’t
squeak, he continued, “You were dead white, staring just past my shoulder, then
nothing.” He blinked and refocused on me. “What did you see that I didn’t?”
I bit my lower lip and avoided his piercing gaze, staring determinedly at the
washcloth as I repositioned it yet again. His hand came up and caught my wrist,
holding me still. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
I took a breath and gave in. “Someone was standing next to you, but inside,
holding back the curtain. His attention was focused on the second tower.” How
to explain something instinctual? “Something just…” I trailed off, unable to finish.
“Do we need to be concerned the past is showing up without an invite?”
I pulled on my wrist, just enough to get him to let go. How could he be so
calm when my hands were still shaking? “No, maybe it was a fluke.” Maybe.
“The thing was, there was a laser sight on you.”
Kayden folded his hands on his stomach, his attention never wavering.
“Sloppy. So, a message then?”
Laser sights left a telltale red dot on a target, which meant a shooter generally used it only when they wanted to keep someone ‘polite’ without
imparting actual physical damage.
“Maybe.” I thought of how long we were exposed on the balcony prior to the
shot, and corrected, “Yeah, definitely a message.”
He settled deeper into my lap, unaware of how much of a temptation he
