Page 39 of 1 Last Shot

"I'm sorry that's happened to you," I whisper, my eyes trained on the ground in front of me. But I can feel Kane's eyes on me after I say it.

His tone is disbelieving when he asks, "A guy just tried to mug you, and you're saying you feel bad forme?"

I nod. "No one should have to go through that even once, let alone multiple times. I'm sorry it happened to you."

He gently grabs my forearm in order to stop me and turn me toward him. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Are you saying the fact that I'm sympathizing with your life experiences means I'm not okay?"

He only blinks at me and waits.

"I think I'm a little in shock," I admit in a whisper. Then hurry to add, "But I still meant what I said."

Kane studies me for a moment, his gaze traveling over my face. He must take my honesty at face value, because he eventually accepts it with a nod.

We spend the next two hours at the local police precinct. Most of the time is spent with me talking, giving my account of the altercation, with Oscar pressed against my leg in silent comfort. Kane stands against the back wall with his arms crossed, looking increasingly furious with every detail I recount.

Eventually, the cop asks Kane to describe what he saw. The guy is young, and clearly in awe of Kane from the moment we walk into the room. And as Kane begins to recount things as he experienced them, that awe only grows.

He’s not the only one mesmerized. By the time Kane gets to the end, I’m probably staring at him like he’s my own personal savior.

"Kane saved my life," I tell the cop. "If he hadn't shown up, I would’ve ended up dead on the sidewalk with a bullet in my head."

At even the thought, Kane's expression hardens. He doesn't seem to notice that he reaches for my chair and pulls me closer.

"You're lucky to have had him," the cop says with a comforting smile. Returning to his notes, he asks, "Can either of you describe what the man looked like?"

It takes us a few minutes of tentative sentences, but between the two of us, Kane and I describe what the guy looked like. By the end of it, none of us, including the cop taking our statement, have enough hope that our vague description will help them catch the guy.

"Can I take her home now?" Kane finally asks in a hard voice. "She's exhausted, and she needs to go home and get some sleep."

The cop startles and hurriedly closes his binder. “Of course. We should have everything we need for now.” He shoots me a quizzical glance before adding, “Normally I would offer to have one of our officers escort her home, but I’m assuming you’re just as safe with him.”

Kane doesn't even hesitate in his response. "Not a chance I'm letting anyone else take her home.” To which he gets a knowing smile from the young cop, and a dazed look from me.

I force my attention back to the police officer. "Please just call me if you identify anyone,” I tell him.

He nods. "Absolutely. We'll call you if we need anything else. Get home safe, and please call us if you need anything else."

Kane barely waits for the end of the guy's sentiment before he's whistling at Oscar and pulling me in the direction of the exit.

And suddenly, I get the impression that this isn't the first time he's been in a police station, but that it might be the first time he’s been on this side of the law.

14

KANE

The walk back to our street is quiet. I can tell by Isabella’s stiff gait and bunched jaw that she's replaying the mugging, and it takes everything in me not to wrap an arm around her shoulder and shield her with my body.

But she doesn't need that. She needs to be reassured that she's confident and capable. I have no idea where that feeling comes from, but the knowledge is so obvious to me that I don't even think to question it. I just walk close enough to offer my unspoken protection, and I keep my mouth shut. Oscar walks on her other side in his own form of silent comfort.

It takes us less than ten minutes to reach Isabella's door. When she hesitates, I find myself saying, "I'll wait until you go inside and lock the door."

My words seem to cut through something in her brain, because she finally looks up at me.

"Can you—I mean, if it's not too much trouble, can you… come inside for a little bit?"

And if her stuttered words didn't convince me, her hopeful expression would have.

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