Page 38 of 1 Last Shot

Kane doesn't even attempt to run after him. Oscar starts to chase, but before he can make it more than a few feet, Kane stops him with a hard command. Almost begrudgingly, the pitbull turns around and trots back to us, settling by my feet and giving my hand a lick.

Kane looks like he has half a thought to go after the guy, but then he moves toward me with two quick steps, until he's close enough to lift his hand and grip my chin, his eyes boring into mine.

"Are you okay?" he demands in a voice that is somehow equal parts urgent and comforting. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," I say, breathless in my answer. "He didn't hurt me."

Even still, Kane takes a moment to look over my body, his touch shifting to cradle my face instead. It isn't until I grip his forearm with my own hand that his attention snaps back to my face.

"I'm okay, I promise," I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away from his.

He stares into my eyes for a beat, and then two, before he—almost begrudgingly—drops his hands from my face and takes a step back.

"We should… probably call the cops," he says in a stilted voice, squeezing his hands into fists by his side. He glances at me in a way that seems almost hesitant. "I'm assuming you want to call the cops?"

And with that question, it occurs to me that Kane is… trying to do the right thing.

I flash back to the expression he had on his face when he turned the corner and found a man physically threatening me. And I realize that Kane had several opportunities to deal with the man in a way that probably would have felt very normal to him. Very physical, very violent ways.

But he didn't. Because of me.

And now he's trying to do theright thing.

Because ofme.

I suck in a breath at the realization. But I know he's still waiting for my reaction, so I answer quickly. "Yes, we should call the cops. I'll call."

He waits patiently as I dial 911. And even more patiently as I'm forwarded to the local precinct, as I give details about what just occurred. He doesn't move closer, he just stands there and gives me the impression that he's there for whatever I need him for.

It's almost more overwhelming than the attempted robbery.

"Yes, we can come down to the local precinct to give our statements," I say, ultimately ending my phone conversation. "We'll be there in a little bit."

When I hang up, I'm almost hesitant to meet Kane's gaze. He hasn't moved away for twenty minutes, and something tells me I'd have to send him away for that to happen.

"Do you… do you want to come to the police station with me?" I ask. He's staring at me the same way he was when the robbery first happened. "You don't have to, but I'm going to walk down—"

"I'll walk down with you," he interrupts. It takes him two seconds to get his phone out and type something, but then before he can put it back in his pocket, I see it ringing with a call. He hesitates, huffing out an agitated breath, then answers.

“Yeah,” he answers tightly. “Yeah, I’m sure. Okay.” A pause. “Thanks.”

For a moment, I can only stare at him. I think Kane just called out of work, but I’m still too frozen to know what to do with that information. "Okay," I eventually blurt. "Let's… I'm… okay, let's walk this way."

Kane whistles for Oscar to follow him. He waits for me to begin walking, then steps beside me and silently matches my pace.

My phone says the precinct is a good ten-minute walk from where we are. We're silent for several minutes, and it takes way longer than I'd like to admit to work up the courage to ask him what I really want to know after tonight.

"You were… very calm during that whole thing," I say quietly.

"Panicking would've made him panic," he murmurs.

I chance another glance at him. "Even still, it's not the easiest thing to stay calm when there's a gun pointed at you."

My comment is enough to make the corner of Kane's lips twitch. He even gives me an amused look. "Have you had a lot of guns pointed at you, princess?"

I can feel my cheeks flame. "No, I can't say that I have." I hesitate, but force myself to ask, "Have you?"

That's enough to make the amusement drop from his face. He doesn't give me a verbal response, but the answer might as well be written all over his face.

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