“You can’t exactly pay me for this, Dean,” She scolds.
“I’ll do what I like, but thanks for the suggestion.”
“Dean,” She sighs.
“Don’t argue with me, Sloane.”
“You’re so bossy, you know that?” She grumbles.
“So I’ve been told.”
We return to the car, and I wait as Sloane gets Lily into her car seat, something she insisted on doing, so I wait on the sidewalk for her to get done.
The car door slams behind her, and she heads toward me, but just before I can get the passenger side open for her, a loud popping sound echoes down the street.
“Get down!” I roar as another shot is fired, the bullet hitting the parking signpost to the right of me.
Sloane moves too slowly, so I grab her upper arm and shove her in front of me, covering her back with my chest as I cage her against the side of the car, covering her entirely with my body. Another shot is fired, hitting the car tire, and a hissing sound joins the roaring in my ears.
“Lily,” Sloane shoves at me, “Lily’s in the car!”
“She’s okay,” I assure her. The car is fitted with bulletproof glass and shields within the doors and bodywork. It’ll take more than three bullets to get inside, so I know, for right now, my daughter is safer inside.
Another shot is fired, closer this time, and pain rips through me. I tense around Sloane, keeping her against me as I fight the agony flaring in my shoulder, the warmth of my blood soaking into my shirt and running down my arm.
“Oh God,” Sloane cries as one more shot is fired, but then I hear sirens wailing in the background and the sound of a motorbike speeding by vibrating inside my ears.
“They’re gone,” I assure her in a whisper, blinking rapidly to clear the fog from my vision.
“How are you so sure?” She trembles in front of me, her fingers curled against the side of the car.
I hear the screech of tires, see the flash of blue lights in the corner of my eye, and come away from her body, releasing her from the side of the car. She’s immediately up, rushing to the back to yank open the door. Lily’s cries echo down the now silent street.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweet girl, I’ve got you,” Sloane soothes.
Being shot hurts like shit. I shake my head as the fog thickens inside my head, the blood pulsing from me, sticking my shirt to my skin.
“She’s okay,” Sloane breathes, her back to me.
“Good,” I manage to get out to the sound of boots hitting the pavement, and I turn my focus to the paramedics rushing toward me.
“Dean!” Sloane screams, but she can’t get to me as the paramedics crowd around me, laying me down and putting pressure on the wound, which only allows the pain to blind me.
“Call. Savannah.” I bite out. “Call Savannah now.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Savannah,” I cry into the phone, Lily’s cries in one ear, the paramedics’ voices in the other. Dean lost consciousness a few minutes ago, and a puddle of blood has started to bloom beneath him. Oh god. Someone shot him. He was fucking shot.
What the fuck is happening!?
“Sloane!?” Savannah calls. I don’t know how many times she’s said my name, but the snap of her voice tells me it’s been a few.
“He was shot,” I stutter.
“Who, Sloane? Who was shot?”
“Dean,” I sob, hot, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. “We were having breakfast, everything wasfine.”
