and absently massaged his wrists as he plopped down on his backside. I tested my teeth with my tongue. They were solidly rooted again, healthy and whole.
“I’ll get your feet,” I offered, unable to take his silence.
“Ohhhhhh,” the nearest man groaned.
In a flash, I’d grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his face into the floor. Judging by the crunching noise, I’d busted his nose. His body went limp again.
“Oh God,” Jared gasped.
I whipped around.
Hands raked into his hair and eyes wide on the gunman, Jared’s face displayed an expression one would expect to see on the witness of a grisly murder. He rocked slightly, back and forth. I’d traumatized him. Utterly traumatized him.
“My dad told me to,” I explained, scooting up to him on my knees. He squirmed backward, recoiling when I touched his upper arm. I dissolved into tears again. “I won’t h-hurt you. I don’t want to hurt a-anyone. Don’t you understand? I had to. They c-can’t s-see me.”
My cell phone vibrated on the floor. I didn’t remember dropping it.
I flipped it over and read a text from Emery: I’m here. I’ll knock 3x.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.” I gave my cell a slobbery kiss .
There were three firm raps on the front door.
I ran to answer it, wiping my face on the jersey sleeve. My eyes met Emery’s, and I threw my arms around his neck, hanging on to him as if for dear life. He carried me into the apartment, dangling off him like a Christmas ornament, and closed the door.
“Everything will be fine,” he whispered into my hair, hugging me. Then he grasped my arms to extract them from his neck.
“Cassidy, we need to work quickly.” Emery set the locks on the door. “The police are almost through the first floor.” He turned around to assess the situation.
“Jared, it is a matter of life and death that you remain silent,” Emery ordered. He lifted the gunman’s head off the floor to determine if he was truly unconscious. Jared winced when he let the man’s head fall to the floor. “It won’t be long before the police are at your door.” He lifted the next man’s head, scrutinized him, and let go. “Do not make a sound,” he repeated, his eyes moving to the thug trapped beneath the hutch. He didn’t bother checking him. “Cassidy, give me a rundown.”
I did what he asked, with surprising calmness. During my recap, Jared silently freed his taped ankles.
“Give me the jersey,” Emery instructed, after rapidly processing the information. I blew out a relieved breath. He already had a plan. “Leave through that window.” He pointed to the dining room window. “There is only a walkway between buildings. You are less likely to be seen. I’ll give you my backpack, since I won’t need—”
“She’s been shot,” Jared spoke up.
I jerked my head toward him, surprised to hear his voice. He had moved to the sofa, where he sat with elbows on his knees, hands in his hair, doing some processing of his own.
Emery turned his head from Jared to me. His eyes narrowed on my left shoulder. I glanced down at the bullet hole. I had forgotten about being shot until Jared mentioned it.
“I forgot. My skin is hard,” I apologized, gripped with shame again. My skin was numb, and felt like it was cinched over bone. How could I have not noticed until now? “Because of the bullet,” I added needlessly to Emery. He knew from experience that a bullet deadened my nerve endings so I felt no pain.
Inserting this new data into his mental calculation, Emery slid his backpack off his shoulder. It was filled with a gadget for almost every situation. He set it on the dining room table, unzipped it, and removed latex gloves.
“Put these on,” Emery ordered, handing them to me.
Jared stared at him as though Emery were a mirage.
“I know you’re in shock, Jared,” I tried to console him as I tugged on the gloves. Emery rummaged through the backpack. “I get it. You haven’t seen Emery like