Page 165 of The Bodyguard

Thirty-One

AT FIRST, Ithought he missed.

At first, it was just a sound so loud I felt it in my chest and a blast of wind past my face.

Then: I felt it before I understood it.

When I think about it now, I see it in slow motion. The bullet hissing past my head, shaving off a thin line of hair as it went. A sharp sting taking over my consciousness, and then a warm wetness rolling down my neck like someone was squeezing a bottle of chocolate syrup.

It wasn’t syrup, of course.

But here’s the thing—at the feel of it, I decided I was okay.

The blood on my neck convinced me: It was only a graze.

I don’t know how I knew it, exactly—I just did. It just felt exactly the way you’d imagine it would feel to get grazed by a bullet—tight, small, stinging. Almost like a cut crossed with a burn.

I just didn’t feel like a person whose brains were splattered all over the wall behind her.

Did I know that for sure?

No.

But I decided to run with it until I had evidence to the contrary.

I must have looked ghoulish, though.

The gunman stared in horror. “Jesus!” he shouted. “You scared me!”

The irony.

I put my hands out. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t slam the door at somebody when they’re holding a gun, okay?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said. “It was the wind.”

His voice was all frustration. “Now you made me shoot you.”

My neck was warm and wet with blood, running down to soak into the fabric of my dress. So much for being Jack’s personal blood bank. “You didn’t shoot me.”

“Um. All that blood says otherwise.”

“Just a scratch,” I said. “Just a graze. I’m completely fine.”

“Well, you look like hell,” the gunman said.

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” I said, like No big deal. “It barely even stings.”

Beyond him, Jack looked utterly appalled to see me. He was crouched for action now, as if he’d forgotten that his wrists and ankles were bound, and he might—what? Hop over to save me? As soon as he realized he couldn’t really move, he did the next best thing. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Um. Helping you?”

“Didn’t I just tell you to leave?” he said. “Didn’t I just say there’s nothing between us that’s real?”

“Yeah. I didn’t believe you.”

Jack stared at me, like that made no sense.

---