“What is going on, Colt?”
I shake my head. “I –“
But she puts her hand on my chest. “Don’t lie to me. You owe me the truth.”
I nod and exhale deeply. “You’re right. I got a call today at work.”
“You still work in Knoxville?”
“I’m stationed there, yes. But I still travel all over.”
She nods, her lips pinched together. “Yeah, that job you’re not allowed to talk about.”
I stand up, determined to put some distance between us even though it’s the last thing I want to do. “Yeah, well, I got a call that there has been a hit put on you.”
“A hit? Is that why the guy in my class was saying something about money? That doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone put a hit on me?”
She’s looking at me for answers, and I don’t have any to give. I’m about to reassure her when she gasps. “Oh my God, Colt. You’re hurt!”
She rushes to me and starts trying to push up my sleeve. I look down and my white T-shirt sleeve is covered in blood. When I flinch, she grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. I should push her away, but I can’t. I’ve longed to have her hands on me but never like this. “This needs cleaned out. Colt, you probably need stitches.”
I try to extricate myself from her hands, but she doesn’t let me go. “I’m fine. It’s a scratch.”
“It’s not a scratch. You were hit by a bullet.” I shrug, and she gets frustrated. She grabs on to my hand and pulls me from the living room. We walk down the hall, and she’s turning on lights, checking rooms, until she finds a bathroom. “Sit down,” she says and points to the toilet.
I do as she says because I’d much rather see her like this than scared and speechless like before. “There’s a first aid kit under the sink.”
“How do you know that?” she asks as she reaches in the door and pulls out a huge first aid kit.
I shrug. “Most safe houses have them.”
She stares at me questioningly. “You spend a lot of time in safe houses?”
I decide it’s probably not a good idea to answer that question. “Open it up. You’ll find alcohol to clean it up. And you’re probably right, it probably needs closed. There should be a skin stapler in there.”
Her eyes get big, and when she sways on her feet, I reach out for her. “You okay?”
She shakes her head and straightens her back. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.”
She goes to work, and I clench my teeth as she cleans out the wound. “This is going to hurt probably.”
I nod. “It’s definitely going to hurt. Do you want me to do it?” I ask her, reaching for the gun.
She shakes her head. “I can do it.”
She takes a deep breath, and I try to walk her through it. “Try and put the skin as close together as possible. It works just like a desk stapler. When you got it where you want it, just pull the trigger.”
She takes another breath and flinches as she starts to count.
I hold my hand up. “Don’t count. I don’t need to know when you do it, just do it.”
She nods and pulls the trigger. I grit my teeth and sit through the pain while she finishes. It takes six staples, and when she’s done, she drops it into the sink and washes her hands.
I inspect her handiwork. “Good work. Thanks.”
She nods and meets my eyes in the mirror over the sink. I can see all the questions in her eyes. Questions that I don’t have all the answers to, but I do know one thing.
“No one is going to hurt you, Kins. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
4
Kinsley
I turn and look at him. He’s my best friend’s older brother, and even knowing that, I still have thoughts about him that I know I shouldn’t have. I’ve been in love with him for what seems like forever, and three years ago I told him. And one night after I was out with friends and needed a ride home, I called him to come get me. It was all planned out. I did it on purpose because I knew he’d come and save me. I told him everything that night. That I loved him and always have. He tried every way to put me off, but I finally convinced him to take my virginity. The very next day, he kissed me on the forehead and told me there was no future for us. That was three years ago, but it still feels like yesterday. I couldn’t take it, so I moved from Tennessee to California and took a job at the university. I had hoped distance would be enough to get him out of my head, but I was wrong. I left and was far from him and the only home I’ve ever known. But missing him hasn’t gotten any easier.