Page 94 of Hard Hitter
“That’s from the broken glass,” he said quietly. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Anywhere at all?”
She shook her head. But the adrenaline which had gotten her through the last few minutes was starting to sour in her stomach.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he said. “It will pass. It always does.” He set her injured hands palms up on her knee and reached around to rub the small of her back. “Shh,” he said, even though she was still silent. “I know you’re in shock, but it will be okay.”
Would it, though? She’d heard a gunshot inside her house. Someone had screamed. She knew who it was, too. But she just couldn’t think about that right now. She shoved that thought away.
Sirens sounded outside. She heard loud voices demanding access across the street, identifying themselves as the police. But surely nobody would answer her door.
Then she was lifted into the air. Patrick carried her further back in the restaurant, depositing her on a banquette. “Let them handle it,” Patrick whispered. “They’ll be asking you questions soon enough.”
That turned out to be true, although she couldn’t say for sure how much time passed. There were more sirens outside, one of which would prove to be an ambulance. Police knocked on the door of the restaurant and were admitted by the waiter, who began snapping pictures at some point, his phone pointed through the plateglass windows.
It was all a swirl of confusion, really. She put her head on Patrick’s shoulder as he whispered to her and gently picked at little shards of broken glass in the heels of her hands.
“What can you tell me?” a cop finally demanded of her.
She took a drink from the glass of ice water that someone had provided. “I was home alone,” she said, trying to keep the detective’s face in focus. She was suddenly so tired. “He demanded to come in and get something that was his...”
Ari told the story slowly, limping through the details. A paramedic worked on her hand at the same time, bandaging the cuts and using tweezers on the bits of glass. The cop began probing her history with Vince, and Ari sighed. She’d spoken of almost nothing else lately. And she was so, so tired.
“That’s enough,” Patrick insisted. “You need Detective Miller. He has all this history already, and she isn’t ready to repeat it right now.”
“I’ll call him.” The cop flipped his notebook closed. “Just don’t go anywhere.”
They didn’t.
Patrick didn’t leave her side until Rebecca turned up, showering her with hugs and making concerned noises. “Nathan is on his way to Brooklyn,” she said.
“Geez,” Ari breathed. It was only starting to sink in that she and Patrick had escaped fromgunfire. “Is there going to be ugly publicity?”
Becca just shook her head. “Let Georgia worry about it, okay? Sweetie, I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
Her friend let out a breath. “Vince was shot in the chest, and he didn’t make it.”
“Vince...” Did she even hear that correctly? “Hedied?”
“Yeah, he did.” Rebecca rubbed her arm. “I’m so sorry. I know you spent a long time with him.”
“Wow,” she said stupidly. She could still picture Vince as the laughing, dancing guy who owned a club because he liked to party. That Vince hadn’t shown up at home in years, but it didn’t make his death any less surprising. Somehow he’d taken such a terrible turn, and she hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice exactly when. He’d stopped dancing and started dealing with people who had murder weapons.
“What awaste,” she said aloud.
Becca murmured comforting sounds while Ari tried to get her head around this news. Vince had woken up today—somewhere—not knowing that it was his last. He’d had a double espresso, probably. His favorite.
Now he was justgone.
Ari burst into tears.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Becca said, hugging her.
Ari sobbed. But it wasn’t grief in the simplest sense. That was simply the moment her consciousness picked to put all the pieces together. It wasterrifying. You could love someone and they could change until they were unrecognizable. You could sleep over a handgun in the floorboards and not know it. You could be trapped in your bathroom while someone tried to break in. And you could escape from the mayhem while your ex-lover died within earshot.
It was all too much. She hugged Becca tightly and cried like there was no tomorrow.
TWENTY-EIGHT
