Then I noticed there weretwomissed calls. From hours ago. He must’ve called when it was the middle of the night there. Dread made me go still.
I hit Owen’s name in the call log. Listened to it ring.
“Dean.” His voice was tight. There was noise in the background, like he was in a busy place. “Hey.”
“Owen, what’s up? Everything okay?”
“I’m sorry to call like this.”
That just freaked me out more. My pulse kicked up. “Did something happen?”
There was a pause that seemed to last a lifetime. Every instinct I had screamed that something was very wrong.
That everything was about to change.
“It’s Keira. She was attacked last night. She’s in the hospital.”
As he gave me a few more details, my back hit the bedroom wall, my knees going weak. “Who?” I managed to choke out.
That one question pulsed with the vein at my temple.
Fuckingwhohad done this?
“We don’t know yet,” Owen said. “We’re going to find out. She’s in stable condition. I just wanted to let you know. Figured…” There was a hell of a lot in that silence.
“Yeah,” I managed to say. “I gotta go.”
My phone dropped to the floor. I grabbed for the cord around my neck. The rifle bullet bit into my palm. I squeezed it so hard the point dug into my skin, giving me something to focus on. But it wasn’t enough. Not like it usually was.
The rage built and built until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I exploded.
I twisted my body and drove my fist into the wall, hearing a scream of agony that could only have come from myself.
Fuck.
My knuckles were bloody, and there was a hole in the drywall. Some rational part of my mind said I’d have to explain to my roommates. Leave money to cover the repair. I felt shitty about making a mess for them, which was not the kind of thing I liked to do.
But I had to go.
I had to find the first flight that would take me back to Colorado.
CHAPTER FOUR
Keira
“You’re comfortable, honey?”Mom fluffed my pillow, as if an insufficiently fluffy pillow was my main issue at the moment. “How’s your pain?”
“I’m just fine, Mom. I’m good.” I smiled, trying not to grit my teeth. “No pain.” The word came out as more of a wheeze.
My sister leveled a glare at me. She wasn’t buying it.
Yeah, I was full of it. But I was weaning off the stronger meds, since I hated feeling loopy, and I was sick of Mom fussing over me. Sick ofeveryonefussing over me.
All this time with nothing to do but heal was already killing me. Sorry, that was just my dark humor talking. But I’d been shot twice, and as I’d learned from the scores of flower arrangements and cards I’d received, injuries like mine bought a girl some sympathy.
The first bullet had hit me in the side, a through-and-through wound that would heal up easy. But the second caught me in my upper chest. The bullet had torn through muscle and shattered my clavicle, missing my lung by less than an inch.
My attackers had meant to kill me. I was so damn luckythey hadn’t shot me in the head to check their work. Thank goodness a nosy neighbor had scared them off. Just a few small differences, and I wouldn’t be here.
