Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (types of ebook readers txt) 📕

it. A dark sky stretched to infinity overhead, pierced by one or two silver stars; and there was lamplight. A cold breeze touched my face. There were voices, shouting but indistinct. They sounded worried.

I closed my eyes and returned to the peace and the stillness

* * *

Something disturbed the stillness. My eyes opened of their own accord. There was a lot of glare and the whole world seemed to be churning about me like the waters of a vast river thundering through rapids. In the midst of it, a man peered into my face and shone a light in my eyes. I wanted to ask about Dehan, but I didn’t know how to speak. My mind tried to reach out to him, to seize hold of him and scream at him. What about Dehan?

What about Dehan?

In my mind I saw her staring eyes, the dense blood on her blouse and on my hands. I tried to talk, but no sounds emerged from my mouth.

What about Dehan?

A voice said, “What about his partner?”

Dehan!

“Gone…”

There was a hollowness, a bottomless emptiness. A hurt that was beyond words. I closed my eyes and sank down into it.

* * *

A light that was too bright. Beings in ugly green shrouds with masks over their faces. Cold steel instruments cutting into me. But above all a deep pain, an intolerable pain that wanted to drain away my will to live.

Somebody said, “Jesus! He’s awake!”

But I closed my eyes and embraced the darkness, because only the darkness could take away the appalling ache.

* * *

Black glass.

Black glass, frosted at the corners by the cold night, stained with amber light by the streetlamps outside. Silence. The drapes open, which seemed odd. The sound of a single car, far away in the night. The lights are out. The room is dark. There is an empty chair by my bed.

I close my eyes and sink back into the emptiness.

* * *

The gray light of dawn has washed the amber from the windowpane. The heavy clouds have returned, as though painted in watercolors, bellying low and raining on New York. Drops of rain, trickling in sporadic runs down the glass. Beneath the glass, the radiator. In front of the radiator, the chair that last night had been empty. And in it, deeply asleep, pale and exhausted, Dehan, uninjured, unhurt.

I smiled. I may have wept a little. Deep gratitude seeped through my heart and my aching body, warming my soul like a fine Irish whiskey. I lay watching her for what might have been half an hour or more, as the day stirred and stretched and yawned.

I closed my eyes, not to sleep, but to assimilate the fact that the blood on her blouse had been mine. That the look on her face had been shock. That she was not gone, she was here, alive, beside me. Eventually I heard her stir, sit up and yawn. I opened my eyes and she offered me a tired smile.

“Hey, Sensei. How’ya feeling?”

I offered her a blink and a small sideways twitch of my head. “I’m okay. I’ve had worse hangovers from cheap whiskey. How long have you been here?”

She shrugged. “A while.”

“They said you’d…” I paused, enjoying the sight of her. “They said, when we arrived at the hospital, they said you’d gone. I thought they meant…”

She stared at me a long time, then smiled. “I’d gone for a checkup. They made me. When they said you were out of danger, I went to get a change of clothes.” She paused and looked at the floor. “Stone, they weren’t gunning for me. They were gunning for you. If you’d just ducked instead of…”

She clenched her jaw and looked away. I saw a tear spill from her eye and she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

I managed a small laugh, which caused more pain than you’d think possible. “Hey! Did you think I was trying to protect you?”

She glared at me with wet eyes.

I laughed again and winced. “Nah! I was just trying to draw their fire away from my Jag! Was it damaged, by the way?”

She laughed wetly and blew her nose. “No. It came off better than you and me. I got a bruised ass.”

“That’s a relief.” I paused a moment, then said, “So I’m guessing I took a slug. Did they catch the shooter?”

She shook her head. “You were lucky, Stone. Very lucky. You shouldn’t be here. You took two slugs. One hit your left shoulder. It was through and through and managed to miss anything important. Four inches farther south and it would have gone right through your heart. The other…” She heaved a big sigh and stared at me. “It must have been as you were dragging me down, the way you were moving, it was a miracle…”

I smiled at her. “Did the earth move for you?”

“Stop it, you big dummkopf. The slug caught you at an angle and lodged between your ribs. A fraction of a second earlier, it would have punctured your heart.”

I shrugged. “Lucky me. How bad is the damage?”

“There was no major, invasive surgery. Doc said you’ll probably be home in a couple of days.”

I grunted. I thought about it for a moment. “It’s pretty cool.”

She made a long-suffering face. “What is?”

“Getting shot in a tux while saving a beautiful woman just before climbing into your classic Jaguar. How many kids dream about doing that?”

She didn’t smile. “John, I think you need to take this seriously.”

“Okay, I’ll take it seriously, but I need you to do something for me, Dehan.”

“Of course, anything. Just name it.”

“Find me some coffee and a couple of croissants, will you?”

She left and while she was gone I practiced moving my shoulder. The