But with Captain taking the lead, I had a second to think about something other than protocol. And that meant I was able to see how close I’d been to getting shot again.
Because based on the entry points, it’d been a fuck of a lot closer than I’d realized in the moment.
If Rhys had tackled me to the side, he’d have been hit.
If I would’ve tackled him to the other side, I’d have been hit.
Us going for the other and landing in the center was the only reason both of us were still alive and breathing.
A tremor went down my spine as I stared at the hole. Stared at my own mortality.
That would’ve been really inconvenient.
My brain replayed the shooting, but instead of how it actually happened, it filled in what could’ve happened. And it slowed it down like something from a movie. All that was missing was a gritty overlay and suspenseful music that built as bullets tore into me. I imagined the fiery burn.
Or ratherrememberedit.
My long-healed scar warmed with phantom heat at the memory.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I rubbed my shoulder to ease an ache that wasn’t really there.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Instead of the cinematic soundtrack of slow and angsty music, my replays were accompanied by that sound.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“It wasn’t poor planning,” I said slowly.
Whatever Captain Talbot had been saying to the tech cut off at my sudden interruption as he turned to me. “What makes you say that?”
“The car was driving slowly and without headlights before it gunned it. That’s what caught my attention and set me on edge. Then there was a clicking. It was faint, but I heard it just before something shiny moved.”
“There was an issue with the first gun,” he said, reaching the same conclusion.
“That’s my guess.”
I’d heard a gun dry fire multiple times, including from up close and personal. The lack of bullets was the only reason I’d ended up with only a shoulder wound and not a matching hole in my head to go with it.
I wasn’t sure what the issue had been with the first gun they’d tried, but it was a lucky break.
That variable gave my imagination a new scenario to picture as I stared at the holes in the brick.
Maybe it was the pounding headache. Or maybe it was the repeated brush with death. Whatever the case, the longer I stood there, the more the sidewalk started twisting like I’d climbed onto a spinning amusement park ride.
