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“Doesn’t sound like no one to me,” my friend quips as she starts rooting through a box of prints. “Has your beau finally moved out?”
“He’s not my beau,” I insist, but I can’t stop glancing down at my phone.Come on, Theo…
“Whatever you say,” Callie teases, holding up her hands. “Just don’t let Craig see you back here. You’ll never hear the end of it if he does.”
“Shit,” I mutter, shoving my phone back into my pants pocket. “You’re right. Sorry.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Callie chirps, and then leans in close to shoot me a wink. “Best just make sure it’s safe from Lucas too, if you catch my meaning.”
I roll my eyes and give her a playful shove, but on the inside, I’m reeling.
When I get home for the night, it’s almost eight PM, and Theo still isn’t back. I’ve sent him half a dozen texts today, along with a couple of unanswered phone calls, but nothing has gone through. My worry only builds as I wander into my bedroom and change out of my work clothes, and by the time I’m making a sandwich and staring out the window, I’m a nervous wreck. I’m not even hungry, I’m such a mess, and it gets to the point where I’m scrolling through my address book, getting ready to call Lucas and see ifhe’sheard anything.
It’s as I’m psyching up for another conversation with my so-called husband when the sound of footsteps approaches in the hallway. I straighten bolt upright, relief rushing through me as the lock clicks and the door swings open, and I’m halfway into the living room by the time Theo walks inside. “Hey, kid,” he mutters, dropping the door shut.
“And here I was, thinking I’d have to call the—” I joke, but I stop mid-sentence the second I lay eyes on him. He’s walking, but barely, swaying on his feet with his head down and his eyes half-lidded. His hand is pressed to his side, and my stomach drops when I see the blood that’s seeping between his fingers. “Theo!” I rush over to him, grabbing him by the shoulder and supporting him as he staggers over to the couch. “Oh my god, Theo... What happened?”
He grits his teeth, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he tilts his head back in pain. “Shot,” he mutters. “Bastards were aiming for the chest. I’m...Fuck.” He blows out an agonized exhale. “Damn it, the sons of bitches were ready to ice me.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” I feel like I’m outside my body as I lift up his arm and pull back his lapel, trying to get a look at the wound. Blood is already soaking through his shirt and running down onto the couch, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I’m in the middle of it by now, my hands pressing against his as I try to get him to let me see it. “Where did it hit?”
“Left side,” he mutters. “Missed my lung, thank god. If it’d hit a couple inches closer...” He hisses as he pulls his hand back, revealing a nasty-looking wound in his abdomen, half an inch above his pelvis. “They were ready for me, thosefuckers—”
I’m already on my feet, running to the kitchen and grabbing the towels off the oven rack. “I’m calling an ambulance,” I say as I dart to the bathroom and start snatching things out of the cabinet: antiseptic, cotton balls, gauze, antibiotic cream... Funny how he did the same thing for me not all that long ago.
“No,” Theo says as I drop to my knees beside him. “No ambulances.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“No ambulances,” he repeats, his silver eyes meeting mine with surprising clarity. “No hospitals. They’ll take down my information, and they’re required to report gunshot wounds to the police.” He hisses with pain. “I’ll be in the books, and I can’t let that happen.”
“Can’t you have one of your guys take care of it?” I demand as I press the wad of towels against the wound.
“Can’t,” Theo says through gritted teeth. “We’ve got cops on payroll, but not enough to make this go away. It’ll get sent to the NCA, and they’ll be all over us.”
“You’re bleeding out in my living room, Theo!” I protest. “We can’t just—”
But he’s already shaking his head. “No hospitals, kid. Please.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my heart in my throat. Fear unlike anything I’ve ever felt before hangs over me, but it’s not enough to overpower my concern for him. “Okay,” I say quietly. “I’ll help you.”
Theo nods, and the gratitude in his eyes speaks volumes. “Thank you, kid,” he says. “I mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, not looking away, and I realize that I’ve been squeezing his free hand. Clearing my throat, I snap back into emergency mode. “What do you need me to do?”
“We have to clean and pack it,” Theo says. “It’s deep, but it missed my vitals. Unless it nicked an artery—and I don’t think it did, or I wouldn’t have made it back here on my own—we should be able to close it up.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Okay. Walk me through it. I’m not going to let you die, Theo. Not on my couch.” I give him a shaky grin.
He manages to smile back. “I know, kid.”
Step by step, Theo walks me through the process, allowing me to pull off his shirt and examine the wound. Under other circumstances, I would be drawn in by the chiseled planes of his lean torso, but there’s nothing sexy about the way his side is gushing blood. The one saving grace is that the bullet went clean through, so I won’t have to dig it out.
“So what happened?” I ask, desperate for a distraction, my voice tense as I clean the wound. “I thought you were just going to talk to the Espositos.”
“Iwas,” Theo replies through gritted teeth. “It was supposed to be a legitimate meeting, but they weren’t acting in good faith.”
“You didn’t have backup?”
