Page 57 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
She made frustrated face, but nodded. Still, she countered with, “Three minutes.”
He rolled his eyes. Keeping low, Cayden made his way to the back doors. He put his back up against the wall by the electric fireplace. It had been lit since Trixie had turned it on the day before. Cayden moved the curtain to peek outside. He couldn’tsee anyone, but the hairs on the back of his neck told him someone was out there.
He paused. With the end of his parole term so close, was he being stupid and selfish not calling the police right away? Was he risking Trixie’s life by not having her call now? What were the chances that a burglar decided to break into their house on their second night in residence? He didn’t have enemies, per se, but he was sure there were some very disappointed people who were displeased he’d quit the life. Could one of them have tracked him down?
He glanced back towards the den. Trixie was kneeling by the doorway, partly hidden from view by the living room couch.
“Call,” he mouthed to her. Even if his term was extended or he was placed back under house arrest, even if he went back to jail, he wasn’t willing to risk Trixie’s life. He’d pay any price to ensure her safety.
Cayden opened the back door and stepped onto the wooden patio. For a second, he stared out at the empty backyard. Then he caught movement to his left and jumped as a man stumbled forward, clutching his left shoulder. On instinct, Cayden caught the man before he face-planted onto the porch floor. He smelled the blood before he saw it.
Cayden laid the man down on his back, kneeling by him. “Trixie!” he called, his eyes landing on the bleeding wound on the man’s left shoulder. “We need an ambulance!”
“No…” Cayden looked down at the man, surprised he was still conscious. “No cops.”
Like Cayden wasn’t going to call the cops? He stared unblinkingly at the stranger. “You’ve been shot and you’re on my back porch?—”
The gasp from behind him drew his attention to Trixie. She pocketed her phone and rushed forward to kneel by his side. Cayden had a suspicious feeling she hadn’t completed the call.
Trixie started pulling up his shirt. Cayden had to lift his arms so she could. She knelt over the man, pressing Cayden’s shirt into the obvious bullet wound in the man’s left shoulder. What made the situation all the more distressing was how she touched his face with familiarity. “Stay awake. Look at me.”
The man blinked his eyes open. He attempted a smile that failed. “Trix… No cops. Promise me.”
“No.” Her eyes widened, her face paling. “You’re shot. You need an ambulance. I have to?—”
“Trix.” The man’s bloody hand shot out to grip her wrist. “No hospital. No cops.Trust me.”
Cayden watched in horror as Trixie’s head ducked, her hair falling loosely over the man’s bloody chest. It was slight, but she was nodding. “Fine. I promise. No cops.” She turned to Cayden. “Help me get him up.”
“Who is he?” Cayden demanded. The man was tall and built. He had a few days hair on his chin and upper lip. His long black hair was caked in blood, dirt, and sweat. He guessed the man to be late thirties, maybe forty.
“Cayden, please.”
He didn’t like it, but he also had never heard such desperation in her voice. Cayden reached forward and picked up the man. Damn, he was heavy. Trixie followed awkwardly, trying to keep pressure on the wound.
Not knowing where else to take him, Cayden brought the man into their bedroom and placed him on the bed.
Trixie turned on the lamp on the nightstand and the overhead light, as well as the bathroom lights. Then, to add to his distress, Trixie grabbed his duffel bag and phone. She rushed out of the bedroom. Why did she take his duffel?
Cayden looked down at the man passed out on their bed and then out at Trixie. He decided to follow Trixie. “What the hell is going on, Trix?”
She was in the kitchen, filling a large mixing bowl with water. He saw a knife, scissors, and a lighter on the counter. When she turned towards him, Trixie had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I need you to go.”
“Excuse me?” The fuck he was leaving her, and not just because there was currently a strange man with a bullet wound in their bed!
Trixie rounded the bar to open the cabinet under the sink. She pulled out a bottle of dish soap. “Here, wash yourself. Quickly. Your Uber will be here any minute.”
She’d called him an Uber? “What the fuck?” Cayden looked down at himself. As his shirt was currently being used to keep some strange man from bleeding out, he was just in jeans. He didn’t even have shoes on. His hands and his right forearm were streaked in blood. “I am not leaving you.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she was trying to gather up her patience. “Cayden, I need you to trust me?—”
“What the hell is going on, Trixie? If you honestly think I am going to leave you alone here, then you don’t know me at all!”
She grabbed some paper towels, wet them, and then dipped some soap on top. She rushed over to him and started to clean off his hands and arm. “Baby, you can’t be here. Don’t you understand?” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You have less than two weeks left on your sentence. Twelve days, Cayden. I won’t do anything to mess that up. So youcan’t be here.”
She was trying to protect him?! Fuck that. He was not leaving?—
She grabbed his chin and held it tightly in her grip. Finally meeting his eyes, she said with more conviction. “You just told me you loved me. Now I need you to trust me.”
