Page 37 of A Shot at Love
“Does he know how Jon is? Is there any…news?”
Ky nodded. “The bullet tore through the fleshy part of his arm and stuck. He’s heading to surgery, but it’s expected to go well.”
Gemma swallowed. “So he’ll be okay?”
“Yeah. He should. But LaRoux and Coble are dead.”
He was trying to control his anger and again, if Gemma hadn’t been such a keen observer, she would have missed the slight hitch in his voice, the tightening around his mouth and jaw. He’d balled his hands into fists right before sliding them into his pants pockets.
“And Ritandi’s men?” she asked.
“Dead.”
“Good.” It was her turn to nod now. “They deserve to be, working for such a monster.”
Ky cocked his head at her. “The house has been secured already.”
“What’s next?” she asked. “As you’ve said, we can’t stay here.”
“No, we can’t. We have no resources, and I only have a few dollars in cash with me. We can’t use any credit cards, anything where we can be tracked. Ritandi shouldn’t have been able to find us.”
“And yet, he did.”
Ky stayed silent, then repeated her words back to her. “And yet, he did.”
She moved to the bed and sat. Since Ky was at the window, she wasn’t as concerned about sitting on it now.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
Ky didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled back a corner of the curtain and took a quick peek outside. Gemma remembered seeing an empty parking lot as they’d made their way to the room and she wondered what he was looking for.
“Wait.”
“For what? Another attack?”
He sliced her with an annoyed flick of his eyes, but didn’t respond. Instead, he stayed vigil at the window, his gun drawn in his hand.
Suddenly, he dropped the curtain edge. “Come on. Our ride is here.”
Without a word, Gemma rose from the bed, then halted when he motioned for her to stand behind him. She couldn’t see what was waiting for them through the dirt encrusted curtains, but apparently she didn’t need to.
“Ready?” Ky asked.
When she nodded, he slid a hand around her upper arm, his grip firm and, oddly, comforting. Easing the door open he slipped through it first, then tugged her with him.
A midnight-black Escalade was parked, the engine running, right outside their door. Two men in nondescript dark suits stood on either side, automatic weapons drawn, sunglasses covering their eyes. As soon as they spotted Ky, one of them pulled open the back passenger door.
Gemma took it all in as Ky hustled her into the back seat and climbed in after her.
In the blink of an eye, they were speeding from the parking lot.
“Flight leaves in twenty, Sir,” the driver called back to Ky.
“Flight? Where are we going?” Gemma adjusted her seat belt and shot her gaze to Ky.
Cop face stared back at her: hard, focused, lethal.
“The safest place I can think to keep you right now.” He turned and looked out the window. “The FBI.”
Chapter Seven
Ky closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. The dull thud of the headache that had started right before they’d taken off from the private New York air strip had metastasized into a roaring earthquake, pounding and pummeling behind his eyes once they’d landed in DC. Being screeched at by the assistant State’s attorney for the past fifteen minutes hadn’t helped ease the pain one bit.
“What kind of a shit-show are you running, Pappandreos?”
Ky met the ASA’s disgusted glare and counted to five. It wouldn’t do to give into the anger raging within him and flatten the man where he stood.
Davison Barly, all six feet, six inches of him, used his substantial height and width to intimidate and bully all those around him. He ruled his office with a fist encased in iron, brokered no excuses, and was rumored to have lofty political aspirations. All of the people assigned to him came to work daily in a state of nervous tension.
He stood in front of Ky, hands bunched into bowling-ball-sized fists, a look of abject fury on his face.
“I want you removed as lead investigator in this case. My primary witness has been assassinated under your watch, and now four agents are dead, another wounded because of your incompetency.”
