Blind Spot - Katana Collins Page 0,38

stitch or two at most. I locked the doors to my Audi before I pulled out my phone.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was small, as though she were speaking to me through a tin can.

“I’m just calling the police—”

Before I finished my sentence, her hand shot out, covering the screen. “No.”

“Don’t worry, did you see that kid? He’s not going to be bothering you any time soon. And we have to get this down to the station.” I gestured to the gun.

“No.” Her voice quivered this time, and she shook her head, another tear spilling. She quickly swiped it away, looking up as more moisture pooled in her eyes. “Please. No police.”

I swallowed the dryness in my mouth, and with my other hand, brushed Shelby’s bangs away from her eyes. She jerked from my touch, wincing, and pushed away from me. I put my hands up, pulling them into my body. The robbery seemed to have traumatized her far more than I originally thought. “Okay,” I said quietly. “But I need to call my dad. Because if I don’t tell him about this and at least get him the gun, he’ll kick my ass.”

She nodded, one single, sharp movement, before turning again and directing her vacant stare out the window.

It only took my dad’s guy—one of the men from his security team—eight minutes to show up at the parking lot and retrieve my statement and the gun. He bagged it and was quickly on his way—as were we. Shelby rode the entire way in silence, and with each passing minute, I grew more concerned about her. I knew a little bit about shock, but not much.

I pulled into our building’s lot and turned the car off. She pulled the door handle, slid out, and shut the door, hoisting her purse higher onto her shoulder and hugging it to her body. Her normally rosy cheeks and olive skin paled, and a sheen of sweat covered her forehead and her neck.

I followed her into the building and slid my key into the penthouse slot on the elevator. “Come upstairs with me for a while.” I put a hand on her back, and she trembled, flinching away from my touch. When she didn’t answer, I gently turned her to face me. “Shelby?”

She wiped a hand over her eyes. “I’m fine. I just need to sleep it off.”

I shook my head and touched the back of my hand to her cheek. “I can’t leave you alone right now. If you don’t want to come upstairs with me, why don’t I come to your place with you?”

“You don’t have to do tha—”

“Yes, I do.” I swallowed my anger and fear over what happened tonight. I took a major chance on that kid. Yeah, it was a BB gun, but under a challenge, he still could have hurt one of us. And if that one of us had been Shelby, I never would have forgiven myself. Seeing a gun drawn on this girl… I mentally shook my head—there was no more pretending that she wasn’t special to me.

I circled my thumb across the back of her hand. God, I liked her. So much that she stayed on my mind constantly. But why? What was this power she had over my thoughts? Why did my chest swell and my pants bulge each time I pictured her face, her hair, lips, eyes…damn, those eyes. If today accomplished one thing, it was to cement the fact that Shelby was not Katie. There wasn’t a deceitful bone in her body, and even if my radar had been totally off with my first love, there was no way I was wrong about this girl in front of me. This girl who volunteered places she didn’t need to, and who wore nothing of value that even a dumb kid with a BB gun would take. She was the real thing.

All these theories that I was only interested for the chase and the challenge were utter bullshit. I mean, damn, we only met a couple of weeks ago. But there was something strong and real between us, something that I couldn’t and wouldn’t push away like I had with every woman since Katie—with tequila shots or one night stands or just plain stupidity. I didn’t want to numb the feelings this time.

With a shiver, her hands fell onto my waist, my shirt wrinkling in her fists. She shook her head, sniffling. There was a sort of half laugh, half sob thing that

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