Page 13 of Killer Notes
“Danny.” I hear my name being called out by my friends. But my eyes are focused on the shattered glass in the entry way. Then I notice the gun in Tobias’s hand and a chill runs down my spine like I’m splashed with ice water. I don’t like guns. This one is way too close and real, and I stumble away from him.
“Got the cops on the line.” John says, with a cell phone to his ear.
“Who is shooting at us?” Connor questions. He strides up to me and hugs me. “Are you okay, Danny? I thought you were…”
His words trail off, but he doesn’t need to finish the sentence for me to know what he’s thinking.
“I’m not hurt,” I admit. It’s a small lie, but I don’t want my best friend to worry.
“You said your head hurts,” Tobias says with narrowed eyes. A small level of relief washes over me when he approaches us without the gun in his hand.
“Not hurt, but freaked the fuck out. I almost got shot.” My voice cracks at the last word.
“Come, sit.” Connor drags me to a table away from the big front windows, to where the rest of my band has congregated.
“Be right back.” Tobias walks toward his partner.
“Maybe your stalker doesn’t like the idea of bodyguards,” Connor whispers and takes a seat in one of the chairs.
“Maybe. But it’s a good thing they were here. What if…” Bobby’s voice falters as his bloodshot eyes dart to me. “Jesus Christ. Tobias’s a fucking superman. He was on you so fast. I didn’t know what was happening until John shoved us inside.”
“Well this shithead saw the whole thing.” Raef thumbs to Callum.
Callum’s leaning forward, hands hanging between his knees, and quiet.
“I know it’s their job to protect us, but Jesus, Tobias would have taken a bullet for you if there was another shot,” Connor says with surprise.
“Oh my God. That thought never occurred to me,” I utter, as tears begin to pool. The idea of Tobias taking a bullet for me sends a wave of nausea through my body. But I swallow and lock down my emotions. For my sake and for my friends, losing my composure isn’t an option.
Too late.
The sting in my eyes spreads and the pounding headache at the back of my skull drowns out the noise in the restaurant. I clamp my mouth shut before I burst into tears or throw up. Or both.
Looking out through the unmarred picture window, I spot Tobias picking something up before he and John scan the area. Several minutes later, two squads of San Fran’s finest pull up and four uniformed officers get out.
Quiet descends around us, as scared patrons glance between us and the cops outside.
One officer separates himself from the discussion and carefully walks in and looks down at the glass. He studies the metal frame of the door and the adjacent wall and points to an area. John steps up, says something to the officer, and nods.
John’s phone must have rung because he answers it.
“What did you do, Connor?” Wanda, the owner and our usual waitress, asks. Worry pinches at her aging face. “Now my husband has to clean up the glass.” I know she’s trying to ease the tension in the restaurant, but the stiff humor doesn’t cut through the fear on the petrified faces around her.
“Now, Wanda, why would you think I did something?” Connor folds his arms across his chest.
“Because you are atroublemaker.” She stalks off, seeing to the rest of the patrons. Several minutes later she comes back with a tray of drinks. “You look like you need a drink.”
“You can say that again,” Bobby says with an expelled breath, reaching for his usual beer.
“Thank you, Wanda,” I add before grabbing my water and taking a large sip.
She pats my shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Danny.”
I smile at the woman as I stick my fingers in the back pocket of my jeans and find the gloss missing. An extra shot of panic fills me as my eyes scramble through the glass laden floor for the tube.Nothing.
Right then, Tobias and John are walking back into the restaurant, which doesn’t ease my anxiety.
I look up at my bodyguard’s stoic face, then glance down at his outstretched hand and see the lip gloss. I swallow down the relief, take the tube, and swipe some gloss across my lips. “Thank you.”