Page 64 of Omega Untamed
“You could have asked me for him. I would have given him to you,” Myre said. “But you hid him. All this time. What else have you been lying to me about?”
“Nothing. You do not need to risk a scene here. We can talk. In my room.”
For a second, I thought Myre hesitated. I was wrong. From one breath to the next, he swung away from me and I heard the pop of his pistol at the same time I heard all four elevator doors ding at once and open.
I spun fast as men in black uniforms streamed out of the elevators and into the alcove. But I didn’t focus on them. Everything went into slow motion for me. All sound stopped. My vision narrowed on Kee as he looked at me, eyes wide, mouth opening, lips forming my name. His was the only sound I heard as he said, “That fucking ancient mobster shot me.”
I didn’t think about the weapons all around, Myre or his men, or the cops surrounding us, obviously shouting orders. All I knew was I was at Kee’s side in a split-second, my arms around him, my weight holding him as his body tried to slide to the floor.
I knelt to take him gently into my lap, his head cradled against my chest, the leather jacket crinkling. I could see most of his body as the jacket sides fell back. Chest. Stomach. Abdomen. Thighs and legs. There was no hole, no blood.
I pushed the jacket gently away from his shoulders and then I saw the wound. On his right shoulder just under the clavicle. Small. Red. The blood oozing slowly.
Not fatal.
Thank all the gods that ever were.
I pressed my hand to the wound to staunch the flow of blood. Kee’s mouth opened in a grimace this time, but his good arm clasp tightly under my own shoulder, gripping my jacket.
Sound started to return. Vaguely, I heard men giving orders. I heard handcuffs jingling and rights being stated. One of the voices was familiar.
Sam. A hand touched my shoulder. “Bast.”
I saw Kee’s face go even paler than before.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked him.
“I must be dead,” Kee said, voice shaking. “I thought I heard that cop say your name.”
“You sure do make it difficult, Bast,” Sam said. “I wasn’t sure I could wrangle everyone together in time when I saw Myre coming into the hotel.”
“You were watching,” I said, not looking away from Kee, holding him closer.
“Yes.”
Kee’s eyebrows went up, then down. “You’re an informant?”
I shook my head. “We need to get him to the hospital right way.”
“The paramedics are on the way,” Sam said. He patted my shoulder.
“No? Not an informant?” Kee asked. “You’re lying. Wait. You’re a cop. You’re a cop? No. That can’t be right. Forget I asked. Just forget.” His eyelids fluttered. “I think I’m going to pass out,” he mumbled.
“You’re going to be fine, sweetheart.”
He smiled. “Sweetheart. Yeah.” His eyes closed.
Chapter Seventeen
Kee
I woke in bed. The sheets were all stiff and not soft like Bast’s bed. Or the hotel bed. Not comfortable at all. And the smells were crisp, sharp and antiseptic.
One scent permeated them all. Dark amber incense. A distant campfire. A strong hand had hold of my own.
I opened my eyes and saw the hospital room at a single glance. No, it hadn’t been a nightmare after all. I’d been shot.
As I tried to move my arm, I felt the gauze and bandage, thick and wrong. A low ache throbbed in my shoulder.
