I can't process any of it, even as Dmitri shouts something at me, a look of terror on his face as he shakes me. But all I can hear is the frantic beat of my heart and the blood rushing in my ears. All I can see is the window rolling down and the gun coming out.
Until I see the growing red stain on Emily’s sweater.
I scream something unintelligible, a sound of grief, terror, and anger, a primal, protective instinct rising from deep inside that turns my scream into a roar.
I'm at my best friend's side before Dmitri can stop me.
“Emily?” I gasp.
She's as white as a sheet, her eyes round with shock.
“I think—” she doesn't finish her sentence. She looks at her shoulder and the red stain, then begins to shake.
“Emily!” It comes out as a wail, and I reach for her. But before I can touch her, Pavel is there, pulling down the shoulder of her sweater and inspecting the wound with a cool calm I can only dream of in this moment.
He reaches down and rips off a strip of his T-shirt, puttingit on the wound before placing his big hand over it to apply pressure. “She's fine. It's just a graze. It didn't actually go in.”
“We have to get them off the street.” We all look at Dmitri, and from the corner of my eye, I see Emily recoil. The monster is back, the one I saw in my office earlier, the one with inhuman eyes that radiate danger, fury, and death.
But he's also the only one who can protect us right now.
The wail of sirens grows closer by the second. A detective’s car wheels up to the curb, hopping it in its haste to stop.Deanjumps out, followed by DetectiveMiller. Both have bulletproof vests on, their guns drawn.
How? How the hell did they get here so fast? I don't miss the look Dmitri and Pavel exchange, the same understanding in their eyes that is just dawning on me.
“Get your hands off them!” Dean roars as they rush us. More cop cars swarm onto the street, suddenly bright with flashing lights, the sounds of shouting, car doors opening and slamming, and sirens in the distance.
Dean edges closer, his angry scowl locked on Dmitri. “I said, get your motherfucking hands off, Smirnov!”
Dmitri doesn't move, and dangerous currents run between the two men. This is exactly what Dean wants—to force a situation he can respond to with deadly force. A way to corner Dmitri that he can't get out of.
“Dean,” I snap. “Stop it— now!” I jerk myself from his grasp when he tries to pull me back.
Dean ignores me, his focus strictly on Dmitri.
“Dean.” I take another step toward him, my hands raised so all the officers can clearly see that I’m unarmed, see what’s really happening. “Stop it. They just protected us. Someone just shot at us. They aren't involved.”
“Of course they're involved,” Dean snarls. “We saw the car, saw the gun. Smirnovwas clearly the target. He's putting you in danger, Clara.”
Dean wants me to see him as my white knight, but my attention is on the other part of his declaration.
“You saw what was going on? How? How could you have seen it?” The sidewalk iscrawling with officers now, but my attention remains focused on Dean, on the way his expression changes from fierce to indignant. He knows he said too much.
“How did you see what happened, Dean?” Everyone already knows the answer, but I want him to confess out loud.
“Because we were watching your apartment.” He says it in a belligerent manner, and he hasn't lowered his gun. I step in front of Dmitri despite the growl of warning I hear behind me.
“You were watching my apartment?”
“Yeah. We knew if we waited long enough,we’dget something on Smirnov. And we were right. You're not just his lawyer, are you, Clara? You’re his fucking whore, too.”
Pavel snaps something in Russian, and I back myself firmly into Dmitri. I can feel the rage coming from him like heat.
“You can't talk your way out of this one, can you, Clara?” Dean says with a sneer.
“I don't have to. You can watch my apartment all you want, but I know you don't have anything, or you would have arrested Dmitri already. The only thing you've seen is Dmitri coming and going, because nothing else has happened, except just now, when someone shot at us and you didn't stop them.” My anger approaches Dmitri's level at the knowledge that my ex is so intent on getting me back under his control, back where he can tell me how stupid and worthless I am and continue to grind me down under his thumb, that he's willing to do anything.
“Why aren't you going after them, Dean? Why aren't you going after that car that shot at us? Why are you here with people who are doing nothing?” I glare at him and then Detective Miller, waiting for an answer that I know won't come, because they don't have a good one. They should be going after the other car, instead of swarming us like we're the villains. Neither Dmitri nor Pavel has their guns out. And there are multiple witnesses to the fact that they weren't the ones shooting.
