Page 44 of Saving Jennifer

“All clear?” Noah asked.

Caleb nodded. “Mom and Dad are in room12. Jonah and Marcel are in 14. We’ve got 15 for you and Jennifer.”

Noah returned to the car and helped Jennifer gather their meager belongings. She studied his face in the dim light.

“You’re pale,” she observed.

“Just tired.” The lie came easily, though guilt followed immediately after. Pretty sure the hit was a through-and-through, but it still hurt like he’d been stabbed, and he knew if he didn’t get it treated soon, there was a good chance of infection.

Room 15 turned out to be a musty space with faded wallpaper and two queen beds. The lamp on the nightstand cast a yellow glow over worn carpeting. Cheap paneling covered the entire wall behind the beds, providing a sort of makeshift headboard. A battle-scarred wooden dresser sat opposite the beds, and a small tray with paper-encased glasses and packages of toothpicks sat forlornly in the center. Attached to the wall high up was a television, so old they’d be lucky if it got reception at all, tilted at a wonky angle, where it could be viewed from either bed. Lucky them, he thought.

“I’ll be next door if you need anything,” Caleb said before disappearing.

As soon as the door closed, Noah felt his resolve crumble. He leaned heavily against the wall, his breath coming in short gasps.

Jennifer was by his side in an instant. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He tried to straighten, hissing in pain. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her eyes narrowed as she reached for his jacket, her hand coming away red. “Noah, you’re bleeding!”

“It’s just a graze.”

“Take off your shirt, then sit down before you fall down,” she commanded, already moving to the bathroom to retrieve towels.

Noah hesitated, then slowly peeled off his jacket and shirt, wincing as the fabric stuck to dried blood. Jennifer returned with towels and the first aid kit Caleb had left on the bathroom counter. She wondered how he’d know they’d need it. When she returned, the kit in her hand, eyes narrowed, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she was upset. Her sharp intake of breath told him the wound looked as bad as it felt.

“Mon Dieu, Noah! This is not a graze. You’ve been shot!” Jennifer’s eyes flashed with anger as she assessed the damage. “When did this happen?”

“At the airport. During the shootout.”

“And you drove for two hours without saying anything? You should have let me drive.” She huffed out a breath, the bangs on her forehead moving with the soft exhalation, as she mumbled under her breath in French, low enough he couldn’t understand her—which was probably a good thing—because he had the feeling she wasn’t being very complimentary about him and his lack of brain cells. She pressed a towel against his side, making him flinch. “Turn around.”

He obeyed, revealing the exit wound on his back.

“You are impossible,” she muttered, but her touch was gentle as she cleaned the wound. “This needs stitches.”

“No hospitals,” Noah said wearily. “Unless you can stitch it up, bandaging it will have to do. Amir’s men will be watching all the local hospitals and clinics. Besides, hospitals are required by law to report any bullet wounds. We can’t afford the attention.”

Jennifer’s lips pressed into a thin line. “At least it went through clean. I can bandage it, but if it gets infected…” She left the implication hanging.

Noah watched her work, her movements efficient despite her obvious anger. In the heat of the moment, with all the shooting and chaos at the airport, with the adrenaline flowing, he hadn’t hurt. She had every right to be furious—he’d put her at risk by not telling her he was injured.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“For getting shot or for not telling me?” Her words were clipped, but concern shadowed her eyes.

“Both.”

She didn’t respond, focusing instead on securing the bandage around his torso. Her fingers were cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the wound.

When she finished, she stepped back, arms crossed. “You should lie down. I’ll check on your family.”

“Jennifer—”

“Rest now. We will talk later.” Without another word, she slipped from the room.

After she left, Noah eased himself onto the bed and retrieved his phone. Gator answered on the first ring.