Page 65 of Bad Situation

The closer he gets, I lose him in my blurry vision as my tears turn into sobs. “It’s Patrick. He needs help—please. Do something.”

*****

Eli

I told her to stay put and thought I was going to have a fucking fit when I couldn’t find her.

The shots came from between two buildings across the street from Lehmans. By the time I was positioned where I could get a good look, they’d stopped. I ran three city blocks, canvassing as much area as I could, and found no one. By the time I got back to my truck, Jen was gone.

But here she is, kneeling over her lifeless attorney, covered in his blood. I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet because all I feel is relief. If that makes me a jackwad, I’ll wear that medal like a motherfucking Olympian, because the twenty seconds I was looking for her were some of the most painful I’ve ever experienced.

It looks like he’s been hit multiple times and he’s losing a shit-ton of blood—fast. Jen is shaking him, feeling around on his neck for a pulse, and begging him to open his eyes.

I yelled at a couple people to call nine-one-one as I was searching the area for the shooter. They’ll send EMS no matter what. I’m sure they’ll be here any second but, right now, all I can think of is getting her away from this shit. She’ll never get this out of her head.

I tuck my gun into the back of my jeans and have her up and off the ground in no time. Taking three steps, I turn her back to the gruesome scene in front of us and wrap my arms around her shaking body. She fists my shirt in her bloody hands and I put my lips to the side of her head. “They’re on the way, baby. They’re on the way.”

She tries to push away from me and cries through her sobs, “Let me go. I need to be with him.”

My arms tighten around her and I shake my head. “No.”

Pushing and struggling against my hold, she keeps on. “I need to stay with him until they get here to help.”

I look over her head at her attorney. I’ve seen a lot and know there’s no way his heart is still beating. “You shouldn’t have seen what you did. Stay with me, baby.”

Her body wracks violently and I’m not sure if it finally hit her or what, but she sinks into my chest. “There’s so much blood. So many gunshot wounds. He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Fuck.

I don’t answer but I do put my lips to her temple.

She looks up at me through the tears streaking her beautiful face. Was it just thirty minutes ago this same face was happy and relieved? She shakes her head and my insides cringe when she says, “He was here for me, Eli. This all happened because of me.”

“Don’t say that.” Her chest is rising and falling against mine, full of life and breath but also agony and guilt, and that kills me. I don’t know how to take that away from her. Through the chaos and the rising sound of sirens, I do the only thing I can and say, “I’ve got you. You’re not leaving my arms.”

She closes her eyes and that’s when her legs give out.

This is where we are when the police arrive and, later, my co-workers and supervisor. My secret who’s no longer a secret is covered in blood and is right where she needs to be—wrapped up in my arms.

And I don’t give one shit even though I should.

*****

I stand and watch the monitor that’s streaming from the interrogation room at the Dallas PD. Her sweatshirt is stained in blood with remnants on her face from spots the EMT missed when they tried to clean her up. She looks like a ghost of herself and, when her attorneys allow her to answer a question, her voice comes out hollow and fragile.

Today—a day that was supposed to be a new start for us—turned to shit in epic fashion. I didn’t think my situation with Jensen Montgomery could possibly get worse than it was, but the universe decided to flip us off and shove it up our asses.

Patrick Moss was pronounced dead on the scene from multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and neck.

This I knew the moment I laid eyes on him.

But what I learned later blew my fucking mind and makes the storm brewing at work seem like nothing but a mild irritation. About thirty minutes after the police arrived on the scene, authorities put together another shooting that happened an hour earlier in north Dallas. There was a drive-by in a quiet neighborhood and the only victim was a private investigator.

He was pronounced dead on the scene, too.

It took about a minute to connect the dots. This means someone knew they were about to be outed and whoever that was, went to every length possible to keep that from happening.

“Pettit!”

---