“I don’t want to kill you.”
I nodded.
“Hurt, yes; kill, no.”
The sirens were wailing now, so close.
“Go,” I whispered.
He lifted his hand, motioned at me with his fingers. “Come with me.”
“We’re not… you know we’re not.”
“It tasted like we were.”
“Mistakes were made,” I grimaced.
“Or not,” he concluded. He gave me a sad smile before he turned and bolted out the back door, running out into the dark night, the rain swallowing him up like he was never there.
Chapter 18
I DIDN’T go to the hospital with Barrett. I went with Chickie because he needed me. The guy who tried to kill me had his own voice. My dog did not.
My phone rang as Dr. Alchureiqi came out of his surgery room, so I let it go to voice mail and stood to talk to him instead. “I’m so sorry to call you with an emergency on Thanksgiving eve.”
“But this is the very definition of an emergency, is it not?”
I was too tired to think. “I just appreciate it so much.”
“Of course,” he replied, his voice gentle like it always was, even when he was criticizing me for not brushing Chickie’s teeth or trimming his nails.
I girded myself for bad news. “So is he—”
“Mr. Wolf is resting comfortably at the moment, and I’m quite confident that he will make a full and speedy recovery.”
I finally breathed. “And will he need a metal plate in his head?”
He squinted at me. “No, no. The bullet wedged in his skull, yes, but it was a simple extraction and we were able to remove it, mend the hairline fractures and smooth the edges easily. We’ve completed all necessary procedures.”
“So he’s all closed up and bandaged and stuff?”
“Yes.”
“And he’ll just wake up when the anesthesia wears off?”
“Precisely.”
My knees were wobbly, so I sat back down hard.
“The tourniquet saved him from bleeding to death—that was very good of you—and Chickie is a powerful dog with a strong heart, so really, stop worrying. He’ll recover well.”
I nodded.
“You can see him first thing in the morning. He’s sleeping now, and we’ll be with him for the rest of the night and then tomorrow as well. You should go home and go to bed.”
“Yeah.”
“You look terrible,” he added.
I grinned. “Thanks, Doc.”
“No, I’m serious. I think you need a sedative too.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“And put on a shirt and coat, for goodness sakes. It’s freezing outside.”
I’D DRIVEN Chickie to the vet in my truck, laid him in the front seat with his head in my lap, so I had blood on my jeans. I didn’t take the time to put on a shirt when I left the house, too caught up in the swarm of people there. They tried to argue with me about going to the hospital, wanting to take a statement, but I shouted about my dog and they made a hole for me to get through.
Of course, I’d stopped to kiss Hartley, so maybe Chickie wasn’t such a priority for me if I wasn’t concerned for him then.
But Hartley was a doctor, a real one, was one of the best in the United States before he got caught killing people, so when he told me Chickie would live, I believed him.
Yes, he needed to see the vet, but I wasn’t scared until Dr. Alchureiqi was. When he saw Chickie, his face fell, and fear and remorse slammed into me. I’d held my breath, waiting, panicking in the hallway, terrified that Ian’s werewolf would die after all.
But then he was okay and the adrenaline drained out of me all at once. Now, in the front seat of my truck with blood- and rain-soaked jeans, shivering, zapped of energy, I wasn’t really sure what to do.
Leaning back in the seat, I finally answered my phone.
“Miro.”
He never called me by my first name. “Eli,” I sighed, using Kohn’s. “How ya doin’?”
“Where the fuck are you?” he shouted.
“I’m outside the vet’s,” I murmured. “Where are you?”
“I’m at your place because the Feds alerted us when two of their agents didn’t report in.”
“Eamon Lochlyn killed them.”
“I see. And how do you know that?”
“He told me.”
“Okay.”
“So you’re at my house?”
“I am.”
“Kowalski too?”
“Of course.”
“Is Ian home yet?”
“No. I’ve been trying to call him, but he’s not picking up.”
“Okay.”
“Your place is covered in bullets and blood, and the crime scene guys just pulled Hartley’s prints from in here.”
“Yeah, I know he was there. I just saw him.”
“You saw him?”
“Well, we talked, yeah. He killed Lochlyn. He’s got a new gun he’s sort of loving.”
“Miro!”
He was shrieking, which was weird. “What?”
“Miro!”
Again with my name. “Jesus, what?”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You sound hurt.”
“Huh.”
“Miro?”
“I’m not hurt.”
“Out of it, then.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it.”
“It’s raining.”
“Yes, it is. Are you in the rain?”
“No.”
“Are you cold?”
“Yeah,” I agreed fast.
“You might be in shock.”
“From what?”
“Oh, I dunno? Your friend trying to kill you, Hartley, take your pick.”
“That makes me sound kinda weak, huh?”