The argument had been light-hearted and one they’d had before. However, when they’d stepped from under the restaurant awning, they’d walked right into a pair of masked gunmen.
Her hands had held a doggy bag. She’d dropped it and reached for her gun. Before it even cleared her holster, an explosion rocked her off her feet.
She’d woken in the ambulance, EMS shoving fluids in a vein, blood stinging her eyes.
Danny had whispered in her ear, “You’re gonna make it, Sin. Hold on. Don’t go to sleep.”
When she’d swum up through the anesthesia after surgery, Jake sat beside her. Danny stood right behind him.
Jake’s face had been gray, his expression haggard.
“You look like hell,” she’d croaked, her throat feeling raw. Thick bandages taped across her cheek and under her chin had limited the movement of her tongue, which had felt thick and dry.
She’d glanced from Jake to Danny. “Glad to see they didn’t get the drop on you, too.”
“Wasn’t anywhere near when it happened,” Jake had said, his lips tight.
“Not talkin’ to you.”
Danny’s gaze had held hers for a long moment, and then he’d backed away—melting into the wall.
Her screams had
left her voiceless for days afterward.
Worse, Jake hadn’t come back to see her.
Not that she’d missed him. They’d been over a long time before the day Danny bled to death on the pavement. That he’d been Jake’s best friend, his high school buddy, had to make it that much harder for him to look at her.
She could hardly stand the sight of her own face. The scar where the 22-cal. bullet had torn through her cheek was a daily reminder not to get too close. Ever again. She’d let down her guard, joking with a friend and sharing a smile, instead of looking where she was going.
Jake made a turn onto an arched stone bridge, and then slid back into traffic at the next intersection, passing a cop on a bicycle. The cop started to lift his hand in greeting until he spied who sat on the passenger side.
Sin sighed. She had a long way to go. She’s been cleared—and that might have been the end of the suspicions—but add the fact she’d lost it, and no one wanted to trust her. She’d do like the psychiatrist and the counselor after him had recommended. Ease back in. Win their trust slowly through solid police work.
No one could ever know she still saw Danny everywhere. She’d taken the meds for a while, seen a shrink twice a week—and lied like a bitch every time. About Danny, about her insomnia. She hid the dark circles under eyes with makeup and pasted on a smile. She was fine. Just fine. Ready to get back into the saddle.
Only she’d woken that morning feeling sick to her stomach, ready to puke, her hands trembling. She’d shaken some of the antidepressants she hadn’t been taking into her palm and swallowed them dry. She’d make it through the day if she had to crawl to the end of it. And Jake would never know what it cost her to sit beside him in silence.
She’d missed him. After they’d broken up, she’d still seen him often. As Danny’s best friend, they’d spent time together after work, unwinding over a pool table and beer. Although she’d pretended she’d been okay with it, she’d been starved for his company. Waiting for a glimpse of his gaze sharpening on her as though he was trying to crawl into her mind. He’d known her well, but she’d gotten to be an expert at a teasing quip or a nasty barb to deflect him. No way would she let him know how much their break up had hurt her.
Still hurt. And now, he thought he had to baby-sit a nut job. He hadn’t looked at her once since she’d slid into the seat beside him. “How’s Johnny?” she asked, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist talking about his little brother. Johnny had joined the force three years after they had. She’d sat beside Jake at his graduation.
“Fine. He’s working at the East Substation.”
She waited, hoping he’d say more, but his jaw tightened, and he glanced into his mirrors, a clear signal he didn’t want to make small talk. It was gonna be a long night.
The setting sun cast long shadows as it dipped behind the buildings lining the roads. They turned onto Broadway and passed a bus stop. She glanced inside to the shaded bench and caught a glimpse of a man wearing a tattered military fatigue jacket; the side of his jaw facing her was stubbled with gray hair. When they drew past him, she gave him a nod, and then stared as they pulled away.
Her heart tripped; her stomach knotted. The half she hadn’t seen on their approach had appeared blurred—not through physical injury. The left side of his face had looked as though a painter had streaked the colors, muted the edges. The outline of his cheek and jaw had bled away in gray and red strokes. His eyes, however, had been piercing, distinct—and glowing.
Suddenly, Sin thought that maybe everyone had been right. She wasn’t ready for this. The bullet that had lodged in her face must have done some real damage to her brain. Rattled it. Jumbled up the signals. How else could she explain the weird things she’d been seeing?
Her stomach lurched, and she wished she’d eaten lunch. She thought she might puke and decided to ask Jake to stop the car, but the moment she opened her mouth the radio squawked. An armed robbery was in progress not a block away.
“Gonna respond, O’Rourke?” Jake asked, his tone clipped.
Knowing she should say something, tell him she couldn’t do it, that she thought she’d be sick—she reached for the mike, telling the dispatcher they were on their way.