“First aid kit, baby.” He cupped my cheeks. “Your feet are a bloody feckin’ mess.”
“Oh.” Glancing down, I watch pools of red form under my soles. “Closet in the bathroom, next to the shower. Grab my phone for me first though, please.”
“Where is it?”
Thinking back to last night, I muttered, “My purse on the living room floor.”
“Be right back.” He kissed me quickly, then he was gone.
As the adrenaline worked its way out of my system, it was replaced with a dull ache. Reaching forward, I turned the faucet on, letting the cool water wash away the evidence of my failure. I thought we’d be safe. We should’ve been safe, for fuck’s sake. Shaking my head, I cleared my mind. There was no point in rehashing the coulda, woulda, shouldas. Whoever was behind these attacks was determined. They’d met their match though. I didn’t scare easily, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let my guard down a second time.
“Here.” Finn handed me my purse, then sprinted down the hallway.
Taking out my phone, the first call I made was to Shayne, knowing my neighbors had most likely called 911 to report shots being fired.
“I heard it come through dispatch,” she answered. “I’m getting in my car right now. Please tell me you’re okay.”
“We’re fine.”
“We’re? Finn’s there?”
“Yes, he’s here. You can gloat later.”
“I will.” A car door slammed and an engine revved. “Tell me you at least got the bastard.”
“Negative.”
“Shit. I’ll be there in ten.” She hung up.
My fingers hovered over the phone, dreading the next call. Duncan’s protective instincts were next level to the extreme.
“What’s wrong?” His loud bark had me pulling the phone away from my ear for a split second.
“Gather the troops, D. I had an armed visitor of the unwanted variety.”
“Motherfucker!”
“That he was,” I agreed. “He was also a lousy shot.”
“Thank Christ for that,” Finn muttered, placing a red case with a white cross next to me.
“Is that O’Lachlan?” Duncan grumbled. Rather than answer, I put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter.
“We should probably take you to the hospital.”
“What the fuck? You got shot?”
“I’m not a rookie, Duncan. Jesus. I got tiny cuts on my feet from some glass.”
“You might need stitches.”
“You’re not helping the situation, Finn.” Asshole shrugged, then lifted my foot in the air. I flinched, not expecting the wound cleanser to sting like a bitch as it flowed over the open cuts.“Ouch. Take it easy.”
“Sorry, baby. I need it clean so I can see if there’s still glass in there.”
“Whatever.”
I knew I was being ridiculous, but dammit, someone shot at me. That alone was cause enough to be whatever the hell I wanted to be. Raging bitch included.
