Chapter Eight
“PAUL!”The deafening rain stole the shrill edge of my voice as I clutched Paul’s shoulders and turned him to face me, fearing that he might fall to the ground any second. Another gasp slipped past my lips when I saw the bullet he was holding in his hand. “What – have you –oh my Gaea.” My gaze swung wildly to his chest, where there was a tiny telltale rip in his shirt, and relief warred with confusion.
“You were shot,” I said blankly, “and you’re not bleeding.”
“We should go.” Paul pocketed the bullet as he spoke, and after grabbing my hand, he had us running back to his SUV, his gaze all the while scanning our surroundings.
“The shooter?” I asked anxiously as soon as he joined me inside and slammed his door shut.
“Gone,” he said in a clipped tone.
Paul started the engine and drove away with such speed I was flung back against my seat. I looked out my window in tense silence, dreading and waiting for someone to start shooting at us again. “Do you think our Jane Doe did this?”
“My guts say no, but I’m not ruling anything out.” He cast a grim look at my direction. “Maybe Agent Gries was right.”
I shot up in my seat with a vehement shake of my head. “No.” If he had told me that an hour ago, I would have agreed without hesitation. But not now. Not over this. This was our case now, forbetter or for worse, and it wasn’t like I didn’t know of the risks associated with my job.
Paul shifted gears, driving well past the speed limits now, and I had to bite my lip hard to keep myself my instinctively from asking him to slow down. If he could survive a gunshot without bleeding, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be stupid enough to let us get into a car accident.
“You look like you’re in shock.”
“Kinda.” I was in shock, but not because someone had shot at us. I stole a look at Paul’s shirt. Still no blood. Humans bled. Supernaturals – even the most powerful ones – bled, too.
Immortals, however...
Paul shot me a concerned look. “I think we should have you checked out—-”
I quickly shook my head. “I’m fine. Really.” And I truly was. I just needed more time to...process. I needed more time to accept...
Paul was an immortal.
My fingers fumbled as I clumsily took my phone out, and I tried to distract myself as I made the necessary calls to report the shooting. By the time we made it back to our place, my heartbeat had considerably slowed down, and I was able to think things through more clearly.
Paul was an immortal.Fine. What kind of immortal I could figure out later, but for now it should be enough to know that the detective I was working withmightbe an immortal. That couldonly mean good things for our case, and that was all I should care about.
Right?
“Do you want to come in?” I asked Paul when he insisted on walking me to the door.
“Only if you need me to.” His tone was grim. “Do you?”
“Just a little shaken up,” I admitted, “but it’s nothing I can’t get over.”
“If you need me for anything – you promise to call me?”
“I promise.” I bit my lip after, hesitating, and when Paul raised a brow, I said quietly, “I meant what I said earlier. I still want to help with the investigation, and I don’t want this to be a reason for you to sideline me out of concern or anything.”
Paul’s lips tightened, and my heart sank at the sight. I knew it. He was thinking of getting me off the case.
“I can still help,” I insisted. “I could start asking around—-”
“My agents will handle that,” Paul rejected. “Dion’s bars aren’t the kind of place you should venture to, and—-” His lips compressed in a straight line. “If it’s any consolation, both of us will be sitting this one out. It’s a long story, but I can’t show my face in any of his properties.”
I gnawed at my lip. That did change things.
Paul glanced up at the skies, and I asked nervously, “What is it?”
“Zeus’ mood is taking a turn for the worse.”
