17
ROWAN
The world exploded into noise.
One second Tex and I were arguing, and the next a car pulled up and rolled down its window before the dark shape of a gun appeared.
Gunfire tore through the parking lot.
The sound was so loud it didn’t even feel real at first, and my brain struggled to catch up.
Someone tackled me.
Or maybe I fell. I wasn’t sure. The only thing I was sure of was that one minute I was arguing with Tex and the next minute my body was being pressed against his, his strong arms surrounding me.
More shots rang out. Sharp, violent bursts that echoed off the building.
“DOWN!” someone shouted again.
Tex’s body tried to block mine as another shot fired. And then white-hot pain exploded through my arm.
I screamed. The sound tore its way out of my throat before I could stop it, and my knees buckled instantly. For a moment the world tilted sideways, the gravel rushing up toward my face; butTex caught me before I hit the ground, his strong arms wrapping around my body and swooping me against his chest.
“Rowan!” His voice sounded different, panicked.
I clutched at him instinctively, my fingers digging into his shirt as agony spread through me. It felt like fire was tearing its way through my muscles and bones and setting my body alight.
More gunshots cracked behind us.
Tex scooped me up and into his arms like I weighed nothing and then he started running. The abrupt movement made the pain flare even brighter and I cried out again, burying my face against his chest, begging him to make the pain stop.
Behind us, men were shouting and engines roared to life.
The sharppop-pop-popof gunfire grew more distant as the sounds of engines sped out of the parking lot.
“Go,” a deep voice bellowed. “Follow them!”
The sound of motorcycles roared down the road seconds later.
But Tex didn’t stop running. He carried me across the gravel toward the back of the bar, away from the road, away from the chaos.
My arm throbbed violently, warm wetness soaking through my shirt.
“Tex…” My voice shook. “It hurts.”
“Hey. Hey now, you’re okay.” His voice dropped softer now as he crouched down behind a parked truck, still holding me tightly against him, the scent of him washing over me. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m bleeding.” I could feel the blood—my blood—seeping between our two bodies. “It hurts, Tex.”
“I know.” His hands moved quickly, pressing something against my arm. The pressure made me gasp. “Stay with me,” he said.
Tears blurred my vision. “I’ve never been shot before.”
The words came out small and childlike, and for the first time since this nightmare had started, I truly understood how bad things had gotten.
Someone had just tried to kill me.
The realization made my chest tighten with panic.
