Burke held up three fingers, and we moved as one to swing our weapons around the doorway. Squeezing off shots until I emptied my clip, I didn't take a full breath until the man fell, unmoving.
If I thought I could relax, I was sorely mistaken. Burke collapsed against the wall, holding his chest. In a macabre recreation of my nightmare, red stained his shirt, and I screamed again.
49
Kinsley
There weren't any lights shining in the building behind us. Cursing under my breath, I used the butt of my gun to break the glass on the door. After reaching in and unlocking it, I hooked my arms under Burke's armpits and dragged him backward into the store. I had no idea who was after us, who we'd killed, or who else might come. Grabbing Burke's guns, I checked both to see how many bullets he had left. Finding three between both clips, I loaded them all into one gun and chambered a round, praying we'd get out alive.
I patted my husband's chest, trying to determine the extent of the damage. "You hang in there, Burke, you hear me?"
One of his hands crept to my cheek before sliding off.
"No, no, no," I mumbled. Placing my palms to the spot where the blood seeped, I tried to apply adequate pressure. I needed to find his cell phone and get help. I needed to stop the bleeding and ensure my husband would live.
What I really needed was a minute to fucking breathe.
A noise came from outside the store, and I wiped the tears off my face before dragging Burke behind the counter. I searched for something, anything to help me out. There was register tape, a stapler, printer paper, and a pencil holder.
"Dammit."
The noise became louder; it sounded like approaching footsteps. Scrambling to search through Burke's pockets, I found his cell and speed dialed Noah.
"Burke?"
"No, Kinsley," I whispered. "He's shot."
"Shit. Where are you?"
Though my hands trembled, I tucked the phone against my shoulder and pressed them back to Burke's chest. "A toy store, sort of across the street from Algonquin. Someone's coming."
"Stay low and hold pressure on the bullet wound."
"I'm doing both." I sucked in a breath when I heard the crunch of broken glass under a shoe. "I have three bullets left, and the person is right outside," I said as quietly as possible.
"We're on the way."
I let the phone drop on Burke and leaned down to kiss him. His breathing was shallow, but at least it was there.
"Kinsley!" The calling of my name came out in a sing-song tone, and I recognized the voice.
Fuck.
"I know you're in here," he said.
Belatedly, I realized I'd left my shoes on the doorstep. Out of time, I moved fast to slip my hoodie off and yank Burke's belt out of the loops, working to bind the cloth over his wound.
"Is Burke hiding under your skirts?"
Taking a deep breath, I picked up the loaded gun. He was nearby; I heard his footsteps move over the hard flooring. Too close for comfort. Closing my eyes, I said another prayer, pressing the barrel of the gun to my forehead.
I was the queen bitch, and I could do this.
There was a crash as he knocked something over, but I bit my lip to keep the gasp inside my mouth. It was only a matter of time before he saw the trail of blood in the dark store.
"Why won't you come out to play? I hear you're quite the murderess these days, ruining all of Burke's plans."
I sat there with my knees drawn up and the gun leaving an imprint on my skin. Only a few more feet forward, and I'd make my move.
