Page 198 of The Next Lie

“She was very specific.”

“I said no.”

His gaze shifts to me. “Miss Hart.”

I take one step back. “I’m fine here, thanks.”

Delia moves between us. That surprises me. It surprises him too; I can see it on his face.

“She’s coming back inside with me,” Delia says. “Not with you.”

The guard’s smile fades. He doesn’t look large until he decides to. Broad shoulders under a clean tuxedo. Hand near his jacket. Eyes empty enough to make my mouth go dry.

The service gate at the edge of the terrace creaks. All three of us turn. Cal steps through from the street.

My heart stops clean.

He’s in a dark suit, tie crooked, hair windblown like he came fast. His eyes find me first, then Delia, then the guard.

“You can’t be here, sir. Please return to your vehicle.”

“Fuck off. Reva, come with me. Delia, you too, if you want to.”

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

He looks at the guard again. His right hand moves beneath his jacket.

No.

No, no, no.

“I got a message,” he says. “Said you needed me.”

Delia makes a sound. A small, terrified sound.

The guard is raising a gun. Everything narrows.

Cal is already moving, drawing his own weapon, stepping between me and the barrel because that is what Cal has always done. He has always put his body where the danger wanted mine.

The shot is too loud.

Cal jerks and fires in return. I think he hits the guard; I’m not sure. There’s a curse, and he ducks for cover.

For half a second, I don’t understand what I am seeing. His shoulder twists. His hand flies to his side. The gun slips but doesn’t fall. Blood darkens his shirt beneath his ribs, spreading fast, obscene against white cotton.

“No.”

I move toward him. Delia grabs me. Another shot cracks against the stone near my feet, shards biting my ankle.

“Reva, down,” Cal snaps.

He still sounds like Cal. That is the worst part. Hurt, furious, issuing orders like this is a bad day in Chicago and not the end of the world opening on a side terrace in New Orleans.

The guard turns the gun toward me.

I freeze.

Not because I want to, but because every nightmare I have ever had finds a body in front of me.