Page 61 of Silent Comrade
“You’re shot,” she gasped.
“A little bit.”
She grabbed his arm and damn him, but theconnection did wonders for his fortitude. “A little bitshot?”
“Give it an hour or two. It’ll be okay.”
“Before or after you bleed out? You’ve got aweird way of looking at things. You want to sit down or something?”She tugged on him, but he waved her off and planted a hand on theconcrete building wall instead.
Then she started patting him downeverywhere. Pain mixed with pleasure in a bizarre way, especiallywhen she encountered the soaked leg of his pants, dark dampness onlighter fabric color in the low lighting of the alley.
“You’re still bleeding.”
“Gunshot wounds do that.”
She blew a stray piece of hair off herforehead. “Can I call an ambulance for you?”
“No.” Already the virus was healing him.He’d be 100% functional by morning.
Next step: make it to the morning.
“Al?” She kept her hand on his arm, as ifshe could support his body with hers. The mere thought made himsmile.
“Yes.” No, he would not laugh at her fiercescowl.
“Should we be going somewhere?”
“We will soon. My teammate is locking downyour place.”
She frowned. “I know you think I’m making abad decision.”
He rolled his lips together, then blew out alungful of air. “Britt. You’re an adult. You have the informationrequired for decisions.”
“Not all of it.”
“You have what you need to know.”
She snorted and glared at him, herirritation made way less effective due to her standing next to adumpster, in a midtown Atlanta alley, wearing a cute flippy skirtand his oversize denim jacket. Nothing made sense.
“Are you sure I can’t do something for yourleg?”
He recognized a subject change when he sawone. “It’ll be okay.”
She rubbed her hands up and down herdenim-clad upper arms, the rough rasp of her palms on the fabricsweet and smoky. “Al?” She pointed at him, her finger shaking.“That was a bullet meant for me.” The waver in her voice got hisattention.
“Britt—”
“Do you know how many things have been shotat me in my lifetime, not counting in Nerf guns?”
“No.”
“Two.” Her voice cracked on the word like aceramic vase shattering.
“Damn it.” He snagged her arms and pulledher into his chest, trying to surround her with warmth and safety,but knowing full well that anything he did right now would betemporary and inadequate.
Despite everything, she seemed to stilltrust him as she relaxed against him. That trust might be the onlything that would get them out of this situation in one piece.
Trust.
