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Gravel crunched beneath Mustache Man’s boots.
She stared over Caleb’s shoulder at the cold, black barrel of a gun, then tore her gaze from death to look into the eyes of her protector. This close, his breath, smelling of sweet whiskey and spicy chili, bathed her lips.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Her vision blurred. How damned unfair that a good man would die tonight because of her.
Another death on her conscience to mark her soul.
His thumb swiped her cheek. His lips grazed hers—soft as butterfly wings.
She waited for fear, revulsion. Instead, she felt the fleeting contact to her soul. A sense of comfort, of peace she hadn’t felt for as long as she could remember.
Caleb’s leg swept out.
Mustache Man sprawled backwards, the gun flying from his grip.
A chill blanketed Gia’s body, bereft of Caleb’s warmth as he vaulted to his feet, his boot connecting with Mustache Man’s head.
Gia sucked in sorely needed air. Her lips tingled.
She licked them to find out if Caleb had left a taste of himself behind, then levered to a seated position, her thoughts scattering at the tableau of violence spread before her.
Blood.
Drops of it rimmed a neat round hole in her driver’s door. More on the gray pebbles next to her hand. Another next to Caleb’s boot.
He bent to pick up the gun. Crimson blossomed across the white fabric on his shoulder.
Her fear vanished. She scrambled to her feet.
“Come on.” Grabbing his uninjured arm, she unlocked her passenger door with surprisingly steady hands. “Get in.”
On the backseat, she spied the towel she’d thrown in the car with every intent of going to work out at the wellness center yesterday, but an emergency patient had kept her late.
Folding it into a neat square, she pressed it to his wound. “This might sting.”
He didn’t flinch. It was easy to believe he was no stranger to violence.
She wouldn’t think too hard about that right now.The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
“Press your shoulder into the seat. The compression will slow the bleeding.”
Pink Cap was stirring.
She jumped into the driver’s seat. The RAV4’s engine rumbled to life.
Gia thanked God, or whoever listened to her prayers, that the old clunker she’d purchased for cash seven and a half weeks ago hadn’t chosen this moment to be temperamental.
She fishtailed out of the parking lot.
Her knight in shining armor reached for the seatbelt. “Try not to kill me after saving me.”
“Ha ha.” He wouldn’t be in this situation if he hadn’t played the hero. Of course, if he hadn’t…Her grip on the wheel tightened.
Caleb.
A strong name. It suited him.