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I browse the previous chapter so I can remember what was going on and lose myself in the story after only a few minutes.
A knock on the door breaks me from my trance. Automatically, I stand and head over to open it when it occurs to me that no one has ever knocked on the door before.
I freeze as Deklan’s words about enemies rattle around in my head, making it impossible for me to think rational thoughts. All I know is that I’m not going anywhere near the door. Who could possibly be knocking, and what do they want? Is it someone looking for Deklan? If so, what do I tell them? Do I just ignore the knocking, which is getting louder, or tell whomever it is to go away? What if they try to break down the door?
My arms and legs tense with fight or flight notions, but I don’t even know which one to choose. I wrap my arms around myself as I look around the apartment, wondering where I could hide, but there’s only the bedroom closet, which is the first place an intruder would check. Maybe Deklan has another gun hidden somewhere, but I don’t even know where to look.
“Phone,” I whisper to myself and tiptoe over to the kitchen drawer where the burner phone with Deklan’s number on it resides. My hands shake as I try to find the right button to turn it on.
The voice from the other side of the door startles me as much as the knocking.
“Kera? Kera! It’s Brian.”
“Brian?” I grip the phone in my fist and walk softly to the door to look through the peephole. Brian is standing on the other side. He glances down the hall as he hops from one foot to the other. His leg must have healed, because there is no sign of the crutch he was using when I first met him. I lean against the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Dek sent me.”
I lick my lips and narrow my eyes at the distorted figure through the hole. It is definitely Brian, but why would Deklan send him here without telling me first? Something is wrong.
“He didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“You don’t have to let me in,” Brian says. “He’s just gonna be late and didn’t want you to worry.”
“Where is he?” Deklan has been late plenty of times and never felt the need to notify me before. What’s changed?
“Um…” Brian dances on the balls
of his feet again. “He um…”
“Out with it, Brian.”
“He got hurt.”
“Hurt? Hurt how? Where is he?”
“He’ll be all right,” Brian says. “Just zigged when he should have zagged, I guess. He’s in surgery, but they said he’d be f—”
“Surgery?” I grab the doorknob and throw the door open. “Surgery for what?”
“Just a little mishap.” His words are obviously meant to soothe, but the lack of real information has the opposite effect.
“What happened to him?”
“He…uh…He got mugged.”
“Mugged?” I glare at Brian. No one in their right mind would see Deklan as a viable target for easy mugging. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
“Really,” Brian says, “he’s fine—cursing and pissy, but fine. Surgery is too strong a word. He just needs a few stitches.”
Apparently, I’m not going to get a straight answer out of Brian. Better to get it from the horse’s mouth.
“Where is he?”
“County Hospital.”
“Take me.” I reach over and grab my jacket from the hook and pull it on.
“He didn’t say anything about bringing you there.” Brian rubs his hand over his mouth and chin as he shakes his head slightly. “I dunno if I should.”
