Page 85 of The Doctor

Would they hate me if I said no?

Probably.

“I’d love that.”

Nadia gave me the biggest smile. “Let me go get changed, then we can go.”

An hour later, we were walking out the front doors of Paulo’s building. I tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, rather than getting lost in my interaction with Zee, or in the details of that chart I’d been going over in my head.

I pulled my purse higher on my shoulder, as if keeping the papers tucked inside could help me sort out the families and the thread I’d been following before Zee interrupted me. I tried not to stumble into Paulo’s back as my heel got stuck in a crack in the sidewalk and forced yet another smile as Nadia stopped in her place and reached out for my hand.

That had to be the thing that saved her.

That pause in my step, her kind heart stopping her forward movement so she could take care of me.

When the gunshots started, they ripped through the air right in front of where she stood.

Chunks of brick ricocheted off the sidewalk, slicing across my shins as others stabbed at my face and arms.

But more than anything, it was the blood I noticed. Blood that spattered my cream-colored dress before Paulo’s body tumbled backward and fell into my arms.

There was screaming, though I couldn’t be sure if it came from me or Nadia or someone else.

There were car doors slamming, tires squealing, and more gunshots before the sound of a car crashing into something bigger and more sturdy than itself.

Warmth oozed over me, coating my hands, my legs, my stomach, where Paulo’s head rested limply against my chest.

My purse spilled all over the sidewalk, my fingers slick as I fumbled over papers and plastic and steel for my phone. I didn’t remember dialing, didn’t realize I’d raised my cell to my ear until I heard a voice on the other end.

“This is Zee.”

Nadia screamed as she pulled herself off the sidewalk and got her first look at Paulo. More gunshots cracked in the background as I tore off my jacket and pressed it to Paulo’s chest.

Then, and only then, could I bring myself to talk. “Zee! Paulo’s been hit!”

“What the fuck—”

“Paulo’s been hit!” I yelled. “They shot him! Oh, God, there’s so much blood!” Nadia screamed again, but she was no longer looking at Paulo. “I need help! Zee, I can’t do this by myself!”

“Clara, where are you?”

“Outside his penthouse. You have to— No! Please, no!”

More gunshots rang out. Ronen, Paulo’s driver, fell to the street, his eyes vacant as blood pooled around his head.

I tossed my phone to the ground, grabbed the handgun I’d stolen from Stephano’s car before he tossed me on the curb the night he’d murdered Jayden, and left my patient on the sidewalk as I rose to meet my would-be killer on that New York City sidewalk.

Stephano had made it look so easy. Raising the gun like it was nothing but a toy, pulling the trigger like he was a video game character and not somebody’s son.

But murderers like the man before me didn’t deserve to live.

And my conscience was clear as I emptied my pistol into the man’s chest.

For a split second after he fell face-first to the ground, I allowed my gaze to rake over the street. Ronen was dead. The shooter’s car had crashed into a trailer parked across the street. If Ronen hadn’t gotten him with a bullet, there was little chance he’d survived the crash, as his sedan was now a convertible, and what was left of the front cab was on fire.

Nadia’s sob brought me back to myself. I spun on my heel, rushing back to Paulo and pressing my blood-soaked jacket to his chest. Sirens filled the air, and I prayed for them to hurry, because I could see the light fading in Paulo’s eyes.

“Stay with me, Paulo!” I yelled as my phone rang on the ground. “You have to fight. I won’t let you die!”