He turned immediately.
“I need something to pack this with.”
He stripped off his overshirt and crossed back to her, tearing it as he moved. His hands were steady. Good. He needed them steady. Maren’s were steady too, though her face had gone pale beneath the glass glittering in her hair.
God, there’s glass in her hair.
Later.
He could fall apart over that later.
He pressed the wadded fabric into her hands. “Keep pressure. Hard.”
“I am.”
“I mean harder.”
Lynn cursed when Maren obeyed.
“Good,” Colin said. “You can complain. That means you’re breathing.”
Lynn’s eyes focused on him. “Dekker?”
“Dead.”
Her mouth trembled. For one second, she looked like she might cry.
Then she closed her eyes. “Voss will know.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s going to know a lot of things soon,” Colin said.
Maren leaned closer, her voice low and fierce. “Who’s your clean contact? Give us the name now.”
Lynn’s eyelids fluttered.
“Lynn,” Maren snapped.
That got her eyes open.
Maren pressed harder. “You do not get to die in the same garage where my sister died without giving me the name.”
A weak, horrible smile touched Lynn’s mouth. “God. You really are her sister.”
“You’d better fucking believe it,” Maren said. “Name.”
“Santiago Rivera.”
Colin repeated it into comms.
Elissa’s voice came back immediately, all business now. “Got it. Running verification.”
Malcolm appeared between two parked cars, weapon up, face cold and unreadable. He took in Dekker’s body, Maren on the ground with both hands buried in Lynn Carr’s blood, Colin standing over them, and the envelope corner just poking out beneath Maren’s jacket.
“Hell of a morning,” Watchtower said.
A siren sounded somewhere below them. Maren looked up at Colin. He saw the terror she was holding back. He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“You’re doing good, baby.”
