“I won’t.”
A flash of anger crossed his face, and I waited for him to turn on me. He did, but not the way I was expecting. “I watched sometimes.”
My voice faltered. “What?”
“Half the hotels in Chicago have peepholes between the rooms if you know where to look. If you grease enough palms. Henri would offer them a hotel room free so we would get the right one. You were good at it, Shelly. I was so proud of you.”
I felt sick, like I really might throw up all over the gun, all over him and me and everything. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to rile me up, make me so angry that I pulled the trigger, but I was better than that—oh God, wasn’t I?
“I wanted to leave you alone.”
He was pleading now, for me to forgive him, for me to shoot him—it all swirled together in one sick melee.
“It wasn’t right, the way I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That wasn’t fair to either of us. I tried other women, other girls. Pretty ones with blonde hair. They even slept in your bed, but it wasn’t the same.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. My finger trembled on the trigger. Almost.
A glint entered his eye. “Your friend’s little girl is cute. Not to my usual tastes, but I can see the appeal. It was my money that paid for her birth, wasn’t it?”
The report of the gun was loud in my ears, but it rang instead with she’s mine, she’s mine too. Had he really said that part, or had my mind filled in the blanks? He lay on the ground, unseeing. He jerked. Was he dead?
I rifled through his pockets. His wallet fell open to a school picture of me. I smiled brightly in the picture, my teeth a little too large for my face. I found his cell phone and dialed 911. A gurgling sound came from his throat. I had become what he wanted me to be—a murderer. I hadn’t wanted to, but now…now I couldn’t find any regret. Couldn’t find any feeling at all. Not even the chill of the wind could touch me. When the operator confirmed that ambulances were on their way, I returned to the building.
Luke met me in the hallway, half dragging himself against the wall. I ran to help him.
“You’re okay,” he slurred. He seemed delirious with the pain and blood loss.
Gently, I laid him on the floor. “I’m okay. Rest now.”
His head was pillowed on my arm, tucked against my breast. My cheek lay against the concrete as I took comfort from him. I needed it, after the confrontation with my father, needed to know I was still alive, and that Luke was too, but just this. Just holding him was enough.
Chapter Fifteen
The paramedics split us up, bringing us to the hospital in separate ambulances. I let them poke and prod at me. They were determined to do a rape kit on me even though I told them it didn’t matter, it had never been rape. But I could tell by the doctor’s expression that she didn’t believe me, and so I spread my legs obediently and let her touch and didn’t make any jokes about charging her by the swab.
The police questioned me, and I explained that the sex between Luke and me was consensual, since they’d find it in the lab report anyway. The two men exchanged a quick glance but kept their professional cool. They told me he was recovering well—but I knew it couldn’t be too well if he hadn’t come to see me yet.
The minute they were out the door, I wanted to leave in search of him. But the nurse must have filled my IV with something that put me to sleep. And they thought I didn’t understand consent, I thought drowsily.
I drifted in and out of a dreamless sleep. When I woke up, the room was still quiet, but I felt someone there. Allie. She was curled up on the hospital bed at my side.
“Hey,” I said, though it came out more like a croak.
“Hey yourself.”
I read how bad I looked in her eyes. Sad. But not too sad, which meant I’d be fine soon enough. Good, because I never could trust those damn nurses.
“How are you feeling? Hurting? Thirsty?”
“A little of both, but wait, don’t go yet. I just want to lie like this.”
She looked shocked. She knew I didn’t like touching. “Are you sure?”
“I’m working on it.”
She grinned. “I’ll take it.”
Colin came in, holding Bailey in his arms. She squealed at the sight of me, but he held her back.
“No,” I protested. “I want to hold her.”
He eyed the tubes coming off me with clear doubt.
“It’ll be fine,” I assured him.
Bailey nestled between us, showing her frustration at my prolonged absence by smashing her face into mine until neither of us could breathe. She grabbed fistfuls of my hair and made a nest for herself in the crook of my arm. My lungs burned, my bruises ached, all of it too much and just right. I looked over her auburn curls at Allie, who watched us, her eyes bright. It was in her eyes, the soul-deep relief.