“Is that so surprising?”
Given her age, no. Not at all. I just wasn’t ready to lose her. I’d never known my grandmother. If my dad’s parents weren’t dead when he disappeared, I never met them, and my mother might’ve been born from the forest for all I’d ever known of her family.
“I’ll miss her, that’s all.”
“You should be happy for her.”
“Oh, shut up.” Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to antagonize my protection, but as I understood it, he wasn’t going anywhere until his orders came from on high, so it didn’t matter what I said anyway. It wasn’t like he wanted to be here.
To my surprise, he did. We walked down the side street, which seemed much darker and scarier at this hour. There were no lights on inside any of the buildings, and as we passed a house with an outdoor light, something popped like a firecracker, and the lamp went out. Gunshot. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where that happened on its own. Weapons fire was pretty rare in this part of Mexico City, because laws regarding illegal guns were harsh as hell, and nobody wanted to wind up in prison here.
I couldn’t see; I didn’t know if I should run or try to hide. The street was bathed in complete darkness, and if there was a sniper on the roof with night-vision goggles, this would be like shooting fish in a barrel. As I moved, the shooter nailed me in the upper arm. The pain nearly blinded me. I swallowed a scream; if I hadn’t shifted, I’d be dead now, and he might finish the job at any second.
But I’d forgotten about Kel. He slid in behind me and used his own body as a shield. With his hands on my shoulders, he pushed me into a run. I might’ve expected him to bound off looking for the shooter, but no—his mission was clear. He had orders to protect me, and he intended to do so.
I stumbled over the broken cement and he said right beside my ear, “I can see fine. I’d lead but I need to stay behind you. So you’ll have to trust me. I’ll guide you.”
Like hell, I thought, but when he said, “Up,” I lifted my feet and managed to scramble onto the higher part of the sidewalk.
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.