Page 41 of Critical Strike

Chapter Thirteen

Her hands shook as she got the kit and cleaned out his wound. She knew it had to hurt every time the needle pierced his skin—it hurt her just to see it—but he never gave her any indication of distress.

“How did you end up working here?” he asked when she let out a distressed breath at the start of the third stitch.

“It was the summer after my freshman year in college. The Romeros, my last foster family, were nice enough to let me come back and live with them after my first year at school. They didn’t live too far from here, so it was a fun and convenient summer job.”

She winced as the needle pierced his skin again and she pulled the string to pull the edges of skin together, then tied it up with a knot.

“That’s good. My parents, Sheila and Clinton Patterson, are big fighters for older-age adoption and foster. One of their biggest causes was that kids needed a family, even after they aged out of the system. They still need somewhere to go when they’re young adults... The need for a support network doesn’t change just because you turn eighteen.”

“Yeah. The Romeros were good. I haven’t talked to them in the while. I probably should.”

She started another stitch.

“So, you liked working here?”

“Absolutely. The first time I ever saw a Maine coon was here. I even thought I might want to be a vet for a while, but I knew that would take a lot of schooling. Plus, I was already really good at computers.”

“Chance and I both went into the army straight out of high school. Brax and Weston went on to college.”

“No college for you?”

“I finished my associate’s degree in business, but I’m not a huge fan of sitting in classrooms. I’d rather be out crawling through burning buildings and dodging bullets.”

She laughed as she finished another stitch.

“The army gave me a purpose. I was always pretty physically strong and had good hand-eye coordination and spatial awareness. I was good at reading people and recognizing threats. It would’ve made a good skill set for working for someone like Ballard, or the equivalent. Being in the service helped me hone a sense of honor. Clarified the path that Clinton and Sheila started me on. I got out with the skills and purpose I needed to start San Antonio Security with my brothers.”

“And you like it? It’s done well?”

“Being in business with family always has its pros and cons. For example, none of us like to do paperwork and this month it’s my turn. I’d honestly rather sit here and let you do this to me for the rest of the month than have to do all the filing that’s waiting for me at my desk. So if we get this murder charge cleared up, we might have to rob a bank or something just so I don’t have to go back to the office.” She laughed again and finished another stitch.

“Maybe that’s how I’ll have to pay you back for helping me—paperwork.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Well, maybe I’d wish it on Ballard. Except for what has happened over the last few days, have you liked working at Passage Digital?”

He was helping her, she realized. In the only way he could.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked. “Asking about your job?”

“I know what you’re doing...you’re distracting me. Given the circumstances, it should be the other way around. So, thank you.”

“I do want to know about your job. About you. I thought about you all the time, Kitten. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about using San Antonio Security’s resources to find you, check up on you, but I didn’t want to invade your privacy like that.”

“I’ve had a pretty uneventful life up until a couple of weeks ago. I liked working at Passage. Mostly because people there left me alone, as pathetic as that sounds.”

He chuckled. “You’ve never been a people person.”

“Nope, that didn’t change about me. My job was...a job. I went in, I did it, and I was good at it. I understand computers and they don’t exhaust me. My team leader, Julia—” Claire had to swallow back tears. “She and I weren’t really friends, but she was nice to me. She knew I worked best alone, so she rarely put me on group projects.”

“I’m sorry, Kitten. Friendships come in all different shapes and sizes. Yours may not have been a traditional one, but she was still your friend.”

“Yeah.” She never thought of it that way, but it was true.

“We’re going to make sure Ballard pays for what he has done.”

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