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That’s when I lost my lunch in Luke’s garbage can.
My mother was dead. That had to be the ‘female’ that the man was talking about.
There was no one else that it could be.
“Man’s alive,” I heard said. “Pulse is thready, but it’s there.”
Five minutes passed as everyone hustled around in the background, and only when I heard Sierra’s phone ring, did I finally hang up my line.
“Hello?” I practically moaned, voice gruff, belly still roiling.
“Your mother was shot in the head,” Teller told me softly. “She was dead when we arrived. Your father was shot in the left chest. He’s alive, but we’re not sure if he’s going to stay that way.”
I pressed my clammy hands to my closed eyes and tried to will the tears to go away.
My parents weren’t the best of parents. There were times that they’d made my life a living hell thanks to all the media and shit that comes on when dealing with your father being the president. And even though I’d emancipated myself, joined the military, and disappeared from their life didn’t mean that I loved them any less.
It just meant that I didn’t want that lifestyle anymore. And this was why.
“Do you know anything that happened?” Teller asked.
I swallowed hard and said, “Put the phone on speaker. Let me talk to Phillipe and Daniel. Or at least let them hear.”
I pressed my hands to my forehead again, balling them into fists as I thought about what I was about to say.
They wouldn’t believe me.
This was going to be a huge blow to them.
But I knew what my dad said.
“They’re here,” Teller murmured.
I opened my eyes and explained to them what I’d explained to Luke when I’d arrived in his office forty-five minutes ago.
There was a long stretch of silence.
“You’re sure your dad said Brad?” Phillipe asked, sounding as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
Probably about how I felt.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “He said that. I know he said that.”
Daniel started to curse. “You need to leave home, Saint.”
I was already shaking my head. “I’m not leaving.”
“You need to,” he tried again. “This could very well go badly for you. If it was really Brad who did this, he’s highly skilled, Saint. He’s not going to be some random infidel that you met out in the desert. And he’s not going to be some dumbass that is holding someone hostage. This is bigger than you think if Brad is involved.”
I knew that, too.
“I can’t leave,” I denied. “I won’t.”
I couldn’t leave because I had to stay here and make sure that Carolina stayed safe.
I wouldn’t be able to date her, though.
Brad may suspect that she meant a little something to me, but he didn’t have confirmation. If I didn’t pursue her, maybe he’d leave her alone.
The idea definitely had merit.
In the end, though, I decided to stay.
What I didn’t decide to do was allow Carolina to know what was going on.
It was best for her to believe that I just wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with her.
Easier said than done.CHAPTER 11It’s almost time to switch from your regular anxiety to your fancy Christmas anxiety.-Caro to SaintCAROLINAI looked at my empty fish tank, the one that used to be filled with hundreds of dollars of expensive saltwater fish, and frowned.
“All right, honey bear.” My mother pressed her lips to my cheek. “I’m going to go home now. Let me know if you need anything. And make sure you set your alarm. We don’t want you getting into trouble. Are you sure you don’t want me to have your brothers stay over?”
I was already shaking my head. “No, Mom. But thank you.”
Especially not when I fully expected Saint to come over.
Honestly, I was downright giddy.
I couldn’t wait for him to be here, in my space, without the threat of freakin’ Ebola hanging over our heads.
Maybe he would want to go get ice cream…
“Carolina,” my mother said, interrupting my thoughts of Saint and ice cream. “Are you even listening to me?”
I smiled as I turned to look at her. “I was thinking about going out for ice cream. Do you know how long it’s been since I did that?”
“Twelve days?” she drawled.
I snickered. “Yes, it’s been twelve long dang days. I didn’t realize how addicted I’ve become to Andy’s.”
My mother patted me on the hand. “You’re the only weirdo I know that’ll go out, even when it’s the coldest it’s ever been, and sit there and enjoy ice cream.”
That was true. No matter how cold it was, I would always enjoy having ice cream. In fact, it didn’t matter if it was snowing outside. Nor raining. I’d sit outside and enjoy that ice cream—though if it was raining. I’d do it from underneath the awning.
Ice cream just wasn’t the same if you didn’t eat it the moment that you got it.
