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“Never. I could never harm you. Something isn’t right here, Maggie.”
“Don’t you ever call me Maggie again. Call me Magdalena.”
“But you hate when I call you Magdalena.”
“Exactly. Just like I hate everything that happened last night. Get out, Commander. Now.” Her eyes moved to the gun on her nightstand.
“Maggie, whatever you’re thinking—”
She lunged for the gun and whipped around, the gun pointed at him. Blonde hair fell in her face as she placed a second hand on her gun, steadying her aim, and cocked the trigger…
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
MAGGIE
Zirkov’s expression puzzled Maggie. The zyanthan looked worried, not a look she associated with him.
“Put the gun down, Maggie.”
Gun? She looked at her hands. She was pointing a gun at him!
Maggie tried to lower her Glock but couldn’t. Her hands wouldn’t move, not even to point her gun away from him.
She tried to push past the confusion miring her brain, but every time she did, the pain returned.
“Marshal Walsh, we don’t shoot unarmed people.”
Protect yourself at all costs, an inner voice instructed.
“Leave,” she ordered. She had to get him out of her apartment, away from her, where he’d be safe. Then she could figure out how she’d fucked everything up.
“If you don’t trust me, then what about Kaci? You like her. She’s human. I can call her on my comm. Would you speak with her?”
“What are you talking about? Of course I trust you.”
She couldn’t remove either hand from her gun to rub her temples and calm the stabbing pain behind her eyes. “Please, Z. You’ll be safer if you leave.”
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“I’m pointing a gun at you, damn it! Get away from me, so I can’t hurt you!”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. “You need a doctor.”
“I’m not sick.”
“You said you trusted me, right?” He held both palms up. “No weapons. No tricks. Let me take you to a doctor. Or we can call a friend to take you.”
“I tried being friends with you, but you never wanted me around. You didn’t think I had the skills of a real marshal, not like those at GI7.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. This wasn’t like her. She never cried over a guy, and certainly not while aiming a weapon.
“I was wrong about a lot, Maggie.”
Her hands began to shake. She needed to holster her Glock, but she couldn’t make her hands listen.
“I want to help you,” Zirkov continued. Steady, unfaltering, and in extreme danger.
Tears clouded her eyes and the pain in her head intensified. “I can’t think with you here. Everything is wrong.”
