Page 57 of Scar

PRESENT DAY

Tally knew it was wrong of her to ask her mystery man to speak. She’d felt the scars on his neck and knew there was a good possibility hecouldn’tspeak. It would be like someone demanding her tojust see. But in the long moments of silence that filled her apartment after her unfair request, Tally got a sense—or maybe it was just wishful thinking—that he actuallywasgoing to talk to her.

Something shattered to her right. Tally’s head turned, automatically clicking her tongue in that direction to decipher the cause of the sound. After the night and day she’d just had, her first reaction was to wonder,what now?

She felt a slight breeze, heated from the summer day and smelled exhaust from the streets below. Had her window been broken?

Mere seconds after the glass shattered, there was a bodilythudfollowed immediately by a thunderouscrashas her apartment door burst open.

Tally screamed, but did not panic. Worry filled her for her mystery man, knowing that the thud she’d heard was him collapsing to the floor. Without a doubt, she knew that whatever had come through the window had hit him. Was he dead? Unconscious? But she couldn’t concentrate on that now.

Her training took over. The threat was at her door. She heard multiple boots on her hardwood. They were slowed by the bottleneck of her entryway but there were at least seven distinctive footfalls headed their way.

Tally did not have a weapon on her. Her walking canes were by her door and her knives were in her kitchen. She was in nothing but her robe, panties, and a tank.

But she knew her mystery man was armed. He always was. She could smell the distinctive scent of metal on him. After their evening at her storage unit, she knew he was a walking arsenal. Beyond the throwing knives and stars, she knew he also had a .45 caliber. Guns were harder for her to use and less practical because of their recoil and how noisy they were, but he’d allowed her to practice with his pistol. He’d even taken out a silencer for her, so it wouldn’t overwhelm her in the enclosed space. It had been such a great evening with him and Tally felt closer to him in a way, like they’d crossed the line into friendship.

Now she was rushing forward towards his body that was crumpled on her living room floor. The slickness of the hardwood allowed her to slide on her knees to get to him faster. As soon as her hands touched his back, she felt a hint of hesitation. It felt like a violation to touch him when he was down, but she knew in her gut that he would want her to protect herself.

This close to him, she heard the faintness of his soft breath and felt his exhale on her bare leg. He was alive!

Tally didn’t smell blood, but he was definitely unconscious. His breathing was too even to be otherwise. He was wearing something on his back. Like a vest, maybe? She didn’t have time to figure out the specifics. Whatever it was, it had a lot of pockets and was made of leather.

Only seconds had passed since he collapsed and her door was busted open. Tally knew he kept his gun on his left side—indicating that he was a righty, maybe?—and reached for it. Falling back on her ass, Tally tried to shield as much of his body with hers as possible while leveling the .45 at the intruders.

“Tally, no!”

Her finger hovered over the safety. “Dad?”

“It’s me, baby. Lower the gun.”

Tally recognized his voice but also knew that there was technology that could replicate his voice, either by a computer simulation or a recording. It wasn’t until she heard his walking gait and smelled hisArmanicologne that she lowered the barrel of the gun.

Relief filled her. “Dad, you have to help him.” She turned towards her mystery man. If her father was here, then the other men in the room were trustworthy. Her father only revealed his identity, and by default hers and her mother’s, to a select few. Beyond her sense that her mystery man was good at heart, she knew she could trust him because of his connection to her father. Dangerous men could still be good.

Tally felt for his shoulder. He was wearing long sleeves, even in the Georgia heat. “I don’t know what happened. Something came through the window and he went down! Dad, you have to help him!”

She didn’t have the opportunity to turn him over onto his stomach before her dad was at her side, his hand on her wrist. Tally’s brows drew down when she realized he was stopping her from touching her mystery man.

“Tally Ally, stop. He’s not who you think he is.”

She tipped her head to the side. She’d never been this close to her mystery man before. The need to help, to protect him, was so strong that she didn’t pick up on her dad’s words immediately.

Confusion filled her. “What do you mean?”

“Baby, I need you to step away from him.”

Tally’s back stiffened. Her instinct to place her body over her mystery man’s returned. “No, I need to help him. Dad, I?—”

“Tally!” The harshness in her father’s voice stopped her words mid-sentence. He’d never taken that tone with her before. “I am telling you to step away from him. Whoever you think he is, I can guarantee you it’s a lie.”

A lie? “But…he works for you?”

“No, baby. He doesn’t.”

A cold chill fell over her. But he had to work for her father? Hehadto. Who else could he be? Why else would he have been with her for the past month? And she’d… She’dtrustedhim. She’ddefendedhim.

Did he work for Gordon Tremont after all? Who was he?

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