Under the Stars

Again, his head falls against my neck, and my heart plunges. “Mark?” I place my hand against his cheek. “Let me see your head.”

He moves again, and I rotate my body to see his injury better. “I don’t think you’re bleeding anymore. He’s not bleeding,” I call up to Roland. Still, I hold the towel against his head. “He’s warmer.”

“What happened, Mark?” Roland speaks louder, and Mark stirs against my arm.

“Stop,” he says, reaching out to grasp the back of the front seat. “Roland, stop! We have to go back.”

“We are not going back there.” Roland doesn’t even break his speed. We’re on the highway headed for the interstate and the Mississippi River Bridge.

Mark’s entire body goes rigid against mine, and he pulls himself forward. “Go back. We have to make sure he’s dead.”

“What the fuck?” Roland cries. “You killed him?”

“I don’t know.” Mark’s head rests on his fist against the top of the passenger seat. “We have to go back and be sure.”

Again, no break in speed or direction. “It’s not going to happen.”

Scooting forward, I place my hand on his shoulder. “Can’t we just call 911 and make an anonymous report?”

“No,” he grinds out. “We have to go back there. He threatened Jillian!”

At once, the car’s speed drops, and Roland flicks on the blinker. He eases into the turn lane, and grabs his phone off the passenger’s seat, tossing it to me.

“Call Armand and tell him we have to go back. Ask him to come with us. Mark is in no shape to do anything.”

I barely have time to register the panic flaring in my chest at Mark’s words. We race toward the house behind the levee, and my fingers tremble as I press the buttons for the call log and find Armand’s number.

When Mark realizes we’ve turned and we’re heading back, he once more collapses against the backseat.

* * *

Mark

My fucking head aches like a motherfucker, and the world won’t stop spinning.

For a brief moment, I allow myself to take comfort in the softness of Lara’s neck, the sweet scent of her little flower perfume, the warmth of her skin against mine.

Then Landry’s threat rears its ugly head, and adrenaline fires in my veins like electricity, cutting through the dizziness.

“I can help,” I say, trying again to pull myself forward.

Lara’s soft hand caresses my cheek. “Shh,” she whispers, kissing my lips. “Let me check your head.”

Blinking up, I see worry in her blue eyes. “You said he shot you, but it looks like the bullet just broke the skin.” Her dark hair falls over her shoulders, and her slim brows are pulled together.

Reaching out, I put my hands on her waist, sliding my thumbs along the soft skin of her stomach, just under her shirt. I’m so glad to see her, but my insides are tight. We have to make sure that fucker is dead.

“He barely missed me then. I dropped when I saw him raise the gun.” Her eyes meet mine, and I try to smile. “Use your phone to see if my eyes are dilated.”

“How…” She reaches down, fumbling with the phone until the light blazes.

“Shine it in my eyes.” Holding steady, it hurts like hell when the white light sears into my eyes. “Fuck,” I hiss.

“I’m sorry!” Her voice is so worried, but I hold her, tracing my thumbs along the line of her jeans.

“Are they dilated?”

“No.” She quickly lowers the phone, killing the light. “Your pupils narrowed immediately.”