the “pop” and had died trying to protect Milos.
Where was Byron? Was he lying somewhere, hurt? Dying? Dead? Kady felt her throat tightening more and more.
All these thoughts flew through her brain a beat before she pulled back into the bathroom, afraid that the killer would see her, too.
Her heart racing, Kady resisted the temptation to close the door again. Any unnecessary movement or sound might catch the killer’s attention, make him come closer to investigate.
But she couldn’t just stand here, frozen. Not knowing. What if he came after her?
With her heart racing faster than she thought humanly possible, Kady angled one of the three adjacent medicine cabinet mirrors to see what the killer was doing. To her surprise, he unscrewed the silencer from the gun barrel, tucking the former into his pocket and the latter into the back of the waistband of his slacks and then smoothed down his collar. As if appearance counted.
When he turned toward the door, she caught a clear glimpse of him, his image reversed in the mirror. Tall, his slight build appearing thinner because of the black clothing he wore, the killer looked young. Maybe twenty-eight, maybe less. He had a mop of curly black hair that looked as if a comb could get lost there.
She had no idea who he was. And then she saw his eyes. They weren’t looking at her, but even at this distance, she’d never seen eyes so dead before.
She had to struggle to keep from shivering, from making a sound.
The killer paused at the door, listening. Kady held her breath. Had he heard her? She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t tell. Very carefully, she shrank back in the bathroom, making sure that her image wasn’t thrown back at him in the mirrors.
In the recesses of the bathroom, she could no longer see what was happening. Her insides felt like jelly. She counted off seconds in her head, waiting. Mentally reciting a fragment of a prayer the sisters at St. Catherine’s had taught her.
Finally the door opened and then closed again. As she eased back into range in the bathroom, her eyes were glued to the mirror. The outer door remained closed. It looked as if the shooter was gone.
Only then did she let out the breath she’d been holding. The next moment Kady shot out of the bathroom and rushed first to check the man on the floor. One look told her that Ari had been shot where he stood. She would have expected him to be disposed of the moment he’d entered the room. What was he doing clear across here, on the other side of Milos’s bed?
Probably following the killer’s orders, hoping to stay alive, she thought. Just like her.
Ari was dead. Had probably been dead even before he’d hit the floor. There was a single bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
She didn’t remember crossing to the bed. The next thing she knew she was bending over Milos, searching for a pulse. Willing him to live. At first she couldn’t find any evidence of a pulse, but then, squeezing her fingers hard over the man’s thick wrist, she thought she detected the faintest hint of erratic rhythm.
He was alive.
She needed to keep him that way.
Her bag was still in the bathroom where she’d taken it, but she didn’t want to leave Milos’s side.
Her heart froze in midbeat as she saw his electric-blue eyes flutter open. Milos’s lips moved, but she couldn’t hear anything. Leaning in closer, she felt the faint brush of his breath against her cheek and thought she heard him say, “Skourous,” but she couldn’t have sworn to it.
“Don’t talk,” she ordered. “We’ll get you to the hospital. You’re going to be all right, Milos,” she promised hoarsely. “You’re going to be all right.”
Kady wasn’t even aware that she was crying, or that her tears were falling on the old man’s face. She saw his lips move again, forming one word. “Liar.”
And then his eyes fluttered shut.
Horror filled her. The next moment she’d gone on autopilot. She began applying CPR in a last-ditch effort to get Milos’s heart beating again, however faintly. She wasn’t about to let him die right in front of her.
Coming back from downstairs, Byron didn’t think anything of it when he didn’t see Ari standing guard outside Milos’s bedroom. He’d just assumed that the examination was over and the man he shared bodyguard duties with had gone back into the room.
But when he knocked and heard Kady scream for him, his entire body immediately became alert. Throwing the doors open, he pulled out the weapon he wore holstered beneath his jacket.
A swift visual sweep of the room told him that there was no one else there. Only Ari on the floor, dead from the looks of it, and his employer in the bed, with the doctor frantically working over him.
Frantically trying to tug Milos away from the jaws of death.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded, crossing to her.
Her hair was falling into her face. Kady shook her head, trying to get it out of her eyes. She didn’t look in his direction as the sound of his voice registered. She just kept going. Fighting.
“I don’t know. Someone got in here. When I opened the bathroom door, he’d already shot both of them.”
With amazing speed, Byron checked all the corners, making sure that there was no one else hiding in the recesses. He went back to her.
“Who?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked as she kept on pushing at the chest that made no movement on its own, kept blowing into a mouth that was already beginning to feel cool beneath hers.
Distancing himself, Byron processed the scene. Her efforts were futile. There was too much blood. The bullet had been straight to Milos’ chest. Straight to his heart, he guessed. The old man never stood a chance.
He cursed silently that he hadn’t been here. That he’d been downstairs, talking to the mechanic Milos kept on the payroll to care for his twelve automobiles, instead of guarding Milos.
“He’s dead, Doctor.”
The low, calm voice seemed to rumble at her from some faraway place. She shook her head adamantly, never looking up, never stopping.
“No. No, he’s not.” She’d found a pulse. He’d tried to speak. She couldn’t just let Milos slip away.
And then she felt strong, firm hands on either side of her shoulders, lifting her up, drawing her away from the bed. From the man she couldn’t save.
Kady wanted to push the bodyguard away, wanted to go back and fight a fight she knew in her heart she’d already lost. But Byron was too strong for her. His grip was gentle but firm, holding her in place.
Suddenly, as if all the air had gone out of her, Kady felt weak, dizzy. The room began to spin. For a second it threatened to pull itself into darkness, leaving her on the outside to fend for herself. It was through sheer grit that she fought her way back from the blurred boundaries, fought back the nausea.
Trying
