Page 69 of Holding On to a Hero
“Will, hold off on your bath until I get back. If I were the shooter and I’d managed to follow us from the airport, this would be a good time to attack.
* * *
Our motel room faced the highway; another row of rooms on the back side of the building faced a run-down strip mall across the next street. We had our choice of exits if we were in the car when the shooter showed up, but inside the room we were basically sitting ducks. I hoped Will’s back didn’t need eight hours of sleep to feel better, because I was rousting us out of here well before dawn.
Cole was watching for me and opened the door as I approached. “Thanks,” I said as he took the bags of food. I shut the door and flipped the security latch, then checked the parking lot again through a gap in the curtains. A silver SUV had pulled up to the motel office, but I could see children in the back seat. Not our shooter, but I didn’t like thinking about families in the area if the asshole did show up.
The sound of water running came from the bathroom. Cole told me, “When I saw you coming across the parking lot I started Will’s bath. He’s getting undressed but we’re going to have to help him into the tub.” He put both hands on his head, running them through his hair. “He’s in a lot of pain. Stopping for the night was a good call. I know you didn’t want to.”
I shucked off my jacket and started rolling up my sleeves. “I honestly don’t think the shooter could have managed to follow him so quickly, or we wouldn’t have stopped.” I gave him a shit-eating grin. “But you’re not going to like how early we have to leave in the morning.”
He chuckled and led the way to the bathroom. “Yeah, I kind of figured.” He stopped in front of the bathroom door. Both of us could hear Will breathing harshly. “Will! Are you okay? Can I open the door?”
“Uh, yeah. I, uh, need some help.” Cole pushed the door open and we both gasped.
* * *
Excerpt from transcript of interview with Scott Pruitt, former boyfriend of William Graham:
Pruitt: Will Graham? Someone tried to kill Will? What the hell?
Agent Wainwright: Can you think of anyone who might have had a grudge against Mr. Graham?
Pruitt: No. I mean, I guess I didn’t know him that well, especially nowadays. We went out for a few months but it wasn’t ever going to be serious.
Agent Wainwright: What makes you say that?
Pruitt: Will’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong. But he’s a photographer. I want someone who’s going places. He was great in, uh, I mean we had good chemistry and everything, but he just wasn’t someone I could see myself with long-term.
Agent Wainwright: How did your relationship end?
Pruitt: Oh, well, when I met this other guy. He ran a hedge fund. He turned out to be a jerk, but it was more in the direction I wanted. So I told Will I’d met someone else and it just wasn’t going to work out with him and me. Hey, I know I can’t remember where I was that day, but I’m not a suspect or anything, am I?
Agent Wainwright: Right now we’re just interviewing everyone who knows Will to see if anyone can help us figure out who’s behind this attempt on his life.
Pruitt: Good. I mean, not good that someone’s trying to kill Will. I mean, that I’m not a suspect. Because I don’t even know where he lives now. I didn’t keep up with him, he just wasn’t that important. I mean, not that he’s not important, but just not to me. Does that make sense?
Agent Wainwright: Thank you for your time, Mr. Pruitt.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Will
I shut the door behind Cole and leaned carefully against the countertop. I was…well, feeling too many emotions at once. Exhausted, stressed, scared – those were at the top of the list. But then my heart was doing flips from seeing Jason and Cole. And my God,Cole. Hisface.He’d told me not to blame myself, and of course I could intellectually acknowledge he was right. But his face. His beautiful, beautiful face now had a large red gouge from his temple to his jaw. He was rocking a full beard, but the beard wasn’t growing in where the scar was.
Once Cole went public again, everyone in the world was going to want to know how he got that scar. People everywhere were going to speak in hushed whispers about his lost beauty. My throat was tight and I started to tear up. Suddenly Malcolm’s voice cut through my one-man grief and pity party.Use the energy to be angry.
Once again, Malcolm was right. The shooter was responsible. But now the three of us were together again, and maybe we could use our combined anger to stop him.
I took a deep breath and pushed it out. The tub was filling up, steam rising to slightly obscure the dingy tiles and cracked grout. The tub was pretty short, but I thought I’d be able to lay flat enough for my back if I propped my feet on the wall. My head would be on the bottom of the tub, so the water couldn’t be too deep, but it’d be deep enough to help loosen my muscles.
Gingerly I grasped the hem of my borrowed shirt and pulled it up. Fuck. My right shoulder had stiffened up too much to get the shirt any higher. I leaned over as best I could and pulled with my left hand. Fuckety fuck fuck.
I was panting with pain when Cole knocked on the door. Thank God. I shouted for them to come help me.
“Dammit, Will, why did you say you could get undressed by yourself?” Gentle hands started to pull on my shirt, easing it over my head first so my arms didn’t have to lift so high. I sighed gratefully.
“Yeah, I kind of underestimated how stiff I am, sorry.” Silence from behind me. I opened my eyes and turned around. Cole’s face was white, his scar standing out starkly against his skin. Jason’s lips were pressed together tightly and he looked pissed. “What?”
