Page 84 of Damaged

He’s silent for a moment. “Okay.” He sighs. “Okay, do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No.” I grunt as I move. “I’m just bruised.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay, I’ll take you somewhere else.” The Mercedes’ engine roars as we race away from the scene of the crime and the lights of the city. After a silent half hour, my body is crashing. I’m falling asleep on the warm leather seats.

I’m fading in and out when I feel the car come to a stop. James gets out of the driver’s seat, and I hear the back door open. I’m afraid I’m going to have to get up soon.

I wouldn’t mind if he carried me again, but then I snuggle my face against the seats because we’re not getting out. James is just draping his big overcoat on top of me like a blanket. He tucks me in and moves some of my hair behind my ear. I feel a gentle kiss on my cheek.

It’s almost too faint to hear. I’m almost not awake enough, but I swear I hear him speak. “I’m sorry, snowflake.”

I want to mumble that it’s not his fault, that he saved me, but my thoughts are lost under the overcoat that smells of James’s cologne. Of woody spice. And there’s a hint of something else. A slight whiff of gunpowder.

I nod off as the car winds deeper into the dark, away from the city.

Sophia

I wake up warm under a heavy comforter. There’s a set of gigantic windows in front of me looking out into the woods. I’m in a large bedroom, alone, and outside it’s snowing softly.

I don’t feel the soreness in my shoulder and abdomen until I stand. There’s a dull ache in both, and I lift my T-shirt in two places to see a yellow bruise on my stomach and a far more ferocious one of black and blue on my shoulder. My shoulder pain must’ve been from when I was tackled to the ground.

Last night comes shuttling back to me. The attack. The gunshots. The muzzle flash. And I feel… okay. I stand still and search my brain for any sign of lasting trauma, but my heart doesn’t skip a beat when I recount the events. My skin doesn’t break out in a cold sweat.

But there is something disturbing about how twice in two weeks, my life has been in grave danger. Once-in-a-lifetime danger. And what was the change?

Being close with James.

I remember what Alessia told me on the beach chairs. “Dangerous in more ways than one.”

Is this what she meant? That things like this follow him? Maybe I’ve been naïve to think his fortune was made legally. What if James is a criminal?

These questions bug me more than anything else. I have no symptoms of lasting, heavy trauma. I see James’s sharp cheeks and bright eyes illuminated in the muzzle flash.

He killed a man last night. I wonder how he feels about that. I didn’t look at the body after he was shot the last time. I couldn’t. Even if it was just an anonymous corpse under a ski mask.

I don’t have much sympathy for an armed robber who kicked me in the gut. One who threatened my life. Who was content with me living in fear for the sake of a successful heist. Still, he was dead. Shot. And so casually that it was hard to imagine James hadn’t done that before.

But the last time he used a brick…

I’d known James was dangerous, but seeing it was another thing. Then again, his wrath seems reserved for the worst of society. He’s tender otherwise. Kind. Witty. But the second someone decides to hurt others, that all goes out the window.

When I picture his face in the muzzle flash, I see a man stopping at nothing to save me. Risking his ownlifeto save me. He didn’t even go check on the artifacts. Once I was safe, he drove off.

But suddenly I feel my brow arch. How did he know I was in trouble?

The question only lingers for a moment. He must’ve had access to the security cameras.

He must’ve logged in to check on me and saw the intruders. But he was there so fast. Five minutes…

Less.

“Good morning.” I hear a knock, and James’s deep voice.

I turn to see him standing in the doorway. He’s wearing a dress shirt tucked into gray wool pants. The skin under his eyes is dark, and his hair is messy like he hasn’t slept. Still, he looks devilishly handsome, a little disheveled.

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