Dawn (Dangerous Web #3) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,5

never go with a stranger. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t confident that I was the perpetrator in this new situation.

Zella’s eyes met mine. “I-I need to stay here.”

“Come in the living room,” I beckoned. “It’s cleaner. We can talk there.” I nodded to Zella. “Get them...water or something. Coffee?”

The man handed the woman his gun, its barrel still aimed our direction. “I’ll have the car behind the garage in two minutes.”

The woman pointed the gun our way and tilted her head toward the backyard. “We’re all going.” When Zella reached for my hand, the woman added, “Now.”

Reid

Present day

The unmistakable odor of ammonia assaulted my sinuses. My entire body flinched to get away, yet there was nowhere to go. Coughing and wheezing, I rapidly blinked as the world around me came into focus. “Motherfucker,” I muttered as I tried to make sense of the ache in my chest.

Shit.

Shaking my head, I lifted my hand to the source of the ache as beyond the windows of the moving SUV, scenes of Chicago flew by at rapid speed. Even breathing hurt as I closed my eyes and laid my head back on the seat.

My scalp alerted me to the fact someone one was fisting the front of my hair and pulling my face upward. I blinked once and then twice as Mason’s stern expression came in and out of focus. “Fucking stay awake,” he growled.

I reached for his hand and pushed it away from my hair. “Let go. I’m awake.”

I was.

I wasn’t sure when I’d been asleep, but the ten-thousand-pound weight on my chest and vise on my temples, along with the green-eyed stare, told me I was definitely awake. Again, I rubbed my fist over my chest. “Did a fucking horse kick me?” I looked down, noticing my sleeve. No longer light blue, it was saturated with red. My opposite hand went to it, feeling the stickiness. And as I lifted it, the elbow refused to bend.

“Leave it alone. We’re getting you back to the tower. Dr. Dixon is going to need her own fucking wing. Hell, along with the obstetricians Sparrow wants to move in, we’ll need a surgery unit.”

Surgery?

My gaze moved up to the man driving. I couldn’t place his name, but I recognized him. He’d been on the sidewalk outside the house in Englewood. After...and then...the girl...a man...gunshots.

It was like a puzzle where each piece slid into place.

I sat straighter, the interior of the SUV spinning unsettlingly around me as a wave of nausea competed for attention. “Fuck, I was shot.”

“You always have been the fucking genius,” Mason said. “Yeah, you were shot. Your arm was grazed. A little more than grazed, but the slug didn’t lodge, and we were able to bandage you up enough to stop the bleeding. It was the second slug that hit its target—your fucking chest.”

Groaning, I laid my head against the seat. “I told you we wouldn’t need vests.”

“And you’re damn lucky I didn’t listen to you. Hell, Sparrow is already pissed, but there’s no way I’m telling Lorna you were shot.”

I looked up to his unsympathetic expression. “Good. Don’t tell her.”

“Man, you look pale as shit, and that’s saying something. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from your bicep, a few bruised or cracked ribs, and you’re going to have a giant-ass bruise on your chest. My sister may not be the savant you are, but she’s not dumb. She’ll definitely pick up on the clues.”

My thoughts were on the injuries he mentioned. Since I didn’t respond, Mason went on, “I’m not telling her. You are. She’ll take it much better coming from your not-dead lips.”

A moan came from my throat as the SUV bounced over something on the roadway. “Slug,” I repeated. “You said slug. The man, he had a long gun. Was it a shotgun?”

“Yeah. And at that range...we need to tell Patrick that his upgrade of our vests was a good investment. Thankfully, the slug didn’t penetrate the vest, but it gave you a swift shock. Phillips” —Mason tilted his head toward the driver— “passed his CPR test. If you weren’t going to the tower to get your ass chewed, your arm fixed, and your chest healed, I’d tell you to buy a lottery ticket. Today is your lucky day.”

I rubbed my chest. “The vest is gone.”

“Again,” Mason said, “CPR is best performed on your skin. Without further tests, we think the impact of the slug caused your heart to get out of rhythm and

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