Another shot rang out, and Kel stifled a sound.
“You’re hit.” Because of the injuries I’d seen him recover from in Laredo, I knew he would live no matter where they’d gotten him, but that didn’t mean he felt no pain. I knew firsthand just how much it hurt; the warm blood trickling down my biceps made me wonder how bad my arm was.
Flesh wound, I told myself. Just a graze.
“Keep moving,” he ordered.
I needed no second invitation, and I sprinted as fast as I could toward the distant lights of the busy avenida just a block and a half from my store. It was strange with him running right behind me, but with his greater size, he found it no problem to keep up, even when he’d been shot. Each step sent a fresh jolt through my wounded arm.
We burst onto the sidewalk, and I had never been more reassured to see the glowing red and yellow OXXO sign. Men milled about here, drinking, and smoking. They gave us a glance, and then their gazes slid away, partly because of my pale, sweaty face, partly due to my big, bleeding companion.
As soon as we caught a break in traffic, we ran across. I had a sharp stitch in my side by then, and a dull throb in my biceps, but I was sure it was nothing compared to Kel’s problems. Not that he would complain. I suspected whining meant being kicked out of the paladin club. I could so see him in armor, wielding a giant sword. And things could have been worse on my end too. At least I didn’t have a bullet in me; when I rotated my arm, I felt an intense ache, not a foreign presence.
“They had a guy watching me,” I panted. “In case the hex didn’t work.”
I wanted to take a break, but we were almost to the safety of my shop. Keep moving. You don’t know where the sniper is.
“Insurance.”
That made sense, I supposed. But the shooter would tell Montoya I had protection. Worse and worse. Better to focus on what I can do to help him.
“How does this go? Do I need to dig that out of you or will it work its way out as you heal?”
Shadows played over his bare head, but his face revealed no particular emotion beneath the streetlights. He hesitated, and when he spoke, his tone reflected a quiet surprise, as if nobody had ever asked him that before. “If it’s not removed, it will stay beneath my skin.”
A constant irritant—yeah, I knew all about that, and fought the urge to rub my side again. I wouldn’t do that to him.
Looks like I’ll be playing doctor tonight.
Playing Doctor
The shop was closed, so we went through the back door and up the stairs. I could smell the spicy marinara sauce before we hit the second floor. Shannon was making spaghetti, her best dish. Admittedly, it was hard to screw up: boil the water, time the pasta, microwave the sauce—not rocket science. But tonight, she’d gone to some extra trouble with grated Parmesan cheese and a Caesar salad.
It looked very impressive.
Butch raised his head from where he lay napping on the sofa and growled low in his throat, but I think he smelled the blood more than objected to my companion. He’d always liked Kel. I went over to give the dog a soothing stroke on the head, and once I got closer, he settled down. For a tiny breed, he could be quite protective. Of course, that could be because if I got myself killed, he’d be homeless.
Shannon came down the hall brushing her hair. “Are you guys ready to eat?” She glanced from me to Kel. “Let me guess. Something went horribly wrong.”
“Got it in one.”
“Is that blood?” she asked, stepping closer.
I covered my upper arm with my fingers and watched the red trickle through. With grim determination, I blocked the memory of how stepping to the left narrowly saved me from a bullet in the chest. I could’ve died, just like that. The knowledge sank into my stomach like a fisherman’s hook.
“Yeah.”
Her pale face went a little green, but she squared her shoulders. “What can I do?”
“I need my wound cleaned and bandaged.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Shannon said, heading down the hall to get first-aid supplies.
“After she patches me up, I’ll operate on you,” I told Kel. “How long do you think we have until he makes another run at us?”
“Not long,” Kel answered.
The girl paused and turned, eyes wide. “Another run? Don’t you think it’s time you clued me in?”
He answered succinctly, “A drug lord is trying to kill Corine over something she did before she met you. Someone took a shot on the way here and nailed both of us, but since he didn’t kill her, I suspect he’ll arrive soon to finish the job.”
The girl had stones. She folded her arms and demanded, “Shouldn’t we be, oh, I don’t know . . . running for our lives?”
Oh, crap, I hadn’t wanted to tell Shannon about Kel being God’s Hand, so now she didn’t know there was anything special about him. But circumstances made it necessary to fill in the blanks for her. “We need to talk.”
It was best if I explained things to her. I made the request silently, leveling a significant look on Shannon. He acknowledged that with an inclination of his head.
Ignoring his injury, Kel strode toward the door. “Before we take off, I’ll put the gunman down.”
I didn’t like sending him out to hunt a human being, but I had to be pragmatic. The man who shot us works for Montoya; he accepted money to kill me. He’s not going to stop until I’m dead. However I rationalized it, though, I couldn’t feel good about it, and knowing it was necessary didn’t lessen the sickness in my stomach. So I focused on the burn in my biceps and told myself, He’ll do worse to you—and to Shannon—if you let him. That so wasn’t on. But I loathed the ruthless decisions being forced on me in the name of survival, and I wondered if the woman I’d been, the one Chance loved, could’ve made these choices.
“Do what you have to,” I told Kel.
“I’ll handle it,” he said quietly.
I should be thankful for small favors. There were a number of places nearby where he could stash a body, and I wanted to be long gone before the authorities started asking awkward questions. In our favor, if this guy worked for Montoya, then he had a record, and the policía would assume the death was drug related. Lucky break. Funny, right then I didn’t feel fortunate.
“Come up when you’re done. I’ll fix your back, and then we can go.”
Kel smiled—and that was terrifying. “This won’t take long.”
His movements carried an awful grace as he slid out of the apartment. Shannon gave a shiver, but she wasn’t panicked. Another girl might be freaking out—not Shan. But then, like me, she grew up in a cursed town, where people died mysteriously and disappeared all the time. She was nearly sacrificed to a demon by her own mother, who developed a conscience only at the end; Sandra tried to claim innocence, but her daughter knew better. I could only try to be there for her and help pick up the pieces. Part of me thought she needed a more stable life, but I couldn’t offer that right now. I could only give her support and affection.
“Come on,” she said, leading the way to the bathroom.
I stripped off my bloodstained shirt and stood in my white bra while she cleaned the wound. As she worked, I sucked in a sharp breath, gritting my teeth. In old Westerns, the hero always had a bottle of rotgut to take the edge off. I just closed my eyes and tried not to scream.
“How does it look?” I asked eventually.
“It got the outer edge of your arm.”
“A graze?”
“I guess,” she said. “There’s no hole, if that’s what you’re asking.”
That was good news. At least I didn’t have to worry about muscle damage. If she cleaned it and wrapped it, I should heal well enough. The last thing I wanted to do was see a doctor in Mexico, who might report me to Montoya.