Page 32 of Blood Game

“Your brother?”

“When I was twelve. He decided I needed to know self-defense. He landed a good one, and then in college it was soccer.

He was impressed. “Aye, that can be rough,” he admitted, watching her.

She was grateful when he let it go, and didn't ask more questions about Mark.

“Are you certain your friend won't mind bringing someone home?” She made a sweeping gesture of the flat with the coffee mug.

He shrugged, his fingers moving down across her jaw as he checked for any unusual swelling. They'd both landed hard the night before. It hadn't done his shoulder any good either.

“I usually call first, just to make certain,” he explained. “But Danny won't mind.” He caught the surprise in her expression, and realized the assumption she'd made about the flat and the person who lived there.

“Is Danny also in the military?”

“We went through our first training together. Then we went in different directions. When I came back, I needed to be in London for a while. He let me stay here when I was released from hospital. I had therapy and weekly appointments, so this worked out.”

She glanced over at a poster on the wall at the edge of the kitchen. It was a concert poster from a Jackson Browne concert.

“Who's the fan?” she asked.

“That would be Danny. He collects rock and roll memorabilia, mostly from the 60's and 70's, American artists, some country artists, Charlie Daniels.” He gestured to the poster.

“Jackson Browne is a favorite.” He caught the edge of a faint smile below the bruise on her cheek.

“Running on Empty.”

“You know it?” he was surprised. He wouldn't have guessed her to be a fan.

“We had an author who used it for the title of one of her books. We had a group come in and they did a cover of it at the book launch. “

Running on empty. Now there was a metaphor for a lot of things, she thought.

“You'll live,” he announced, tossing down the cloth he'd used to clean the scrape on her cheek.

“There's no other swelling, but you're probably going to feel it the next couple of days. A hot shower would help, then some ice.”

Next couple of days? she thought, already feeling it in every muscle. He pulled her to her feet.

“The shower is at the end of the hall. There are towels on the shelf. And there's a kit with some salve for the scrape on your cheek.”

Kris stood under the stream of hot water long after she'd rinsed off, the water beating the knots out of sore muscles until she felt like a wet noodle and her skin was like a prune. She could have just stayed there for the next two or three days, except that the hot water would probably turn cold, and Danny wouldn't appreciate the next electric bill.

She found the t-shirt on the counter by the sink, black, neatly folded, and realized that James must have put it there while she was in the shower. It hung to her knees, but it was clean compared to her pullover that had streaks of blood and grime down the front from the night before.

The early morning news was on the wide-screen as she came out of the bathroom. One news segment had finished and another came on about the incident the previous evening at the Blue Oyster.

She watched as those images played over and over—emergency vehicles, people traumatized, others interviewed in scenes that had become too familiar the last few years—a bomb set off at the Boston Marathon, the devastation of 9/11.

He saw the expression on her face. It was there in her eyes, the way they had gone dark, her face pale, staring at those images.

“There are four known fatalities with dozens more injured and taken to hospital,” the newscaster informed viewers. “Among the dead, Brynn Halliday of Sky News.

“According to sources, who asked not to be identified as they were not authorized to speak on the matter, Ms. Halliday was meeting someone in connection with the recent death of best-selling author Catherine Bennett Ross, who was killed in a tragic car accident in France.

“There is little information at this time regarding the assailant, who was reportedly driving a white van,” the broadcast continued. “However, a cameraman who had accompanied Ms. Halliday, managed to get this video footage. Some of the images are graphic, and may be disturbing for the younger viewing audience.”

The camera moved suddenly, footage showing the van as it tore across the patio, patrons scrambling, including the cameraman, others caught in the chaos of overturned tables and chairs, and Brynn Halliday, suddenly turning with a perfect screen-shot of the person she'd gone to meet in those last moments as the van barreled toward them.