Page 11 of Edging Obsession

My bodyguards are dispersed around the room. Four to be exact. It still doesn’t stop me from being vigilant. Through text messages, my brother continues to warn me about a possible attack, while I repeatedly tell him to calm down. But now that Jules is at my side, I’m on high alert, as are my bodyguards. Scanning each person crowding the walkway, I haven’t seen anything out of place, but it’s the unexpected I should keep a critical eye on.

Within the darkened room, it’s difficult to follow the people who are rushing to meet up with their group on the other side. I’m edgy. We can’t just grab whoever appears to be a threat, so the wait, the constant sifting of people, builds the tension. A woman’s eyes shift between Jules and I, then her head falls back in laughter. By the door, a couple dressed to the hilt survey the area, eyes landing on me, wandering to the place across from us. I give a chin nod toward the couple, and Hendrick locates and maneuvers closer.

So concerned about the couple, I missed the obvious. The man wearing a black coat with his hand in his pocket. Amateur, yet effective. I didn’t pay much attention to him until the gun is fixed on Jules. My Jules! My treasure! Someone sees the light glinting off the gun and screams. As soon as one person runs and shoutsgun, the rest scurry like ants. Jules’ curdling shriek has me pushing her down behind the table, landing on top of her, except I’m clipped twice in the shoulder. There’s chaos, guns going off, and I rise to see my bodyguards taking him down.

I shout, “Bringt ihn ins Lagerhaus!” (Get him to the warehouse now!)

Jules is crying and when she sees the blood she becomes hysterical.

“Calm down, Jules.”

She pats her body. “Blood! Am I shot?”

Her eyes drift from mine to my shoulder. In the shadowed room, it’s difficult to see the blood on my black T-shirt. Top lights flicker on, blinding us for a moment, and then she sees it. Her shaky hand touches my shoulder. A barrage of tears blinds her.

“I’m fine, but we have to get out of here.”

I stand and pull her into me. She stares at the blood. Our bodies turn as one toward the back exit door. I’m practically carrying her against my front because she’s so shocked by what happened.

Outside, we get into a waiting car, and I instruct them to bring me to the hospital. The bodyguards exchange a look but say nothing.

As we’re headed there, I ask, “Did any of our guys get hurt?”

They shake their heads, and I let out a breath, holding Jules close as she cries. Tremors pump throughout her body. When we arrive, I get out, Jules behind me, and a staff member ushers me into a room, avoiding the ER waiting area. Hendrick called ahead to make sure I get private, prompt treatment. A doctor enters the room, ordering me onto the bed while Jules refuses to let go of my hand.

“I’m Dr. Billings.” He begins to cut my T-shirt off. “What happened?”

“Some guy pulled a gun at a club. We hit the ground, but the shooter got me on the way down.”

Dr. Billings positions a light over my shoulder. “It’s a flesh wound, but you’ll need stitches. I’ll have a nurse stitch you up.” I nod and he leaves.

“Jules. Go with my bodyguards. They’ll—”

The sobbing continues and her body hasn’t expelled the shudders. She tightens her hold on my hand.

Her cracked voice whispers, “No.” She shakes her head, wipes her face, except it doesn’t do any good. The tears fall faster than she can remove them. Her voice splinters. “I want to stay. Please—”

I pull her onto the bed to sit next to me. After a moment, her body releases some tension. Head resting on my right shoulder, hand on my chest, she closes her eyes.

Not long after, a nurse comes in and asks Jules to get up, but I cut in and say, “She’s fine. She’s not in the way.”

Remaining mute, the nurse laces the skin together for my two wounds, hands me some pills, and we drive back to the hotel.

In the room, I suggest Jules relax and take a bath while I remain in the living area to talk to my bodyguards. I remove the magazine from my gun, check the chamber, and pop the magazine back in.

Leaving the gun on the table, I walk over to the windows, not looking at anything in particular. “How the fuck did we miss this guy?”

The crew looks at Hendrick, my close friend and bodyguard to respond. “Matthias, we were all looking for someone more discreet. We didn’t know the guy would be so blatant in his attempt.”

I turn to him and hiss, “How many times do I have to tell you it’s Miles when we’re in the States?” My pacing begins. “My brother told me the Turkish clan is putting pressure on us. Is he part of the clan?”

“We don’t know.”

My voice rises with every word. “Was he sending a message by trying to shoot Jules?”

“Again, we’re not sure.”

His lack of answers pisses me off. I abruptly stop, hands on my hips, and shout, “What do you know?”

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