“I was at the site with Carmen and she was acting really weird. She pulled out a gun. I was kind of cornered and not sure what she wanted, then someone else showed up.”
“Who?” I asked, moving to his other hand.
“Her ex-husband. Who apparently knows Foster.”
I paused, digesting the information, then returned to my task. “Does he?”
“Yeah. And then Foster showed up. He ran up the stairs, shoved me down.”
“Who shot him?” I asked.
“Carmen.”
“But she’d been pointing the gun at you.”
I stood and tossed all the dirty wipes and gauze into the trash can, then shoved the pair of pants in Kevin’s direction. He managed to get out of his pants and change without getting up, and I threw his pants by the wayside with his shirt.
“She was,” he confirmed.
“So she was going to shoot you.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
The feelings that raged through my brain were indescribable. It had been one thing when I was in the line of danger. I’d always known in the back of my head that if I was in danger, of course Kevin was. That was why I’d sent him to Colorado in the first place. That was why we’d fought, but hearing that someone had leveled a gun at my future husband’s face? That he was literally seconds away from being the one with a gunshot wound instead of Foster?
The twelve slaps Sage had landed across Foster’s face would never be enough.
Speaking of.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, clearing my throat and taking a step toward the curtain.
“Don’t do anything careless,” Kevin hedged.
“Oh. You don’t have to worry about that.” I balled up his ruined clothes and threw them in the trash. “Just rest.”
“Dr. Meyers said the police would probably be by since I came up with a gunshot victim.”
“I find it unlikely,” I assured him, knowing full well how far outside the law Foster lived his life. “Just rest. I’ll be right back.”
I paced down to the far end of the hallway, letting myself into Foster’s room without knocking. He rested on the bed, eyes closed and hands folded, much like I’d found Kevin.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” I said.
He gingerly reached for his shoulder. “The nurse said through and through.”
“I’m not talking about the gunshot.”
He opened his eyes. “I got him out of the way.”
“You put him in the way in the first place,” I whisper-yelled, stalking toward the bed. Foster’s belongings were piled on the table and I grabbed his phone. “What’s your password?”
“Six-six-nine-six-nine,” he mumbled.
“You’re an infant.” I unlocked his phone and found Sage’s name in his contacts and hit the call button. Sage answered on the second ring.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“It’s Ronan,” I answered.
