She stood as well, irritated at herself for her own imaginings. Just because Hal didn’t have a girlfriend didn’t mean he was into her. He was just a sweet, considerate, sexy guy who would make some future girlfriend deliriously happy.
Some future girlfriend who wasn’t her. That future girlfriend had all the luck. Ellie hated her already.
Oblivious to her ill-wishes against his non-existent girlfriend, Hal showed her the bathroom, and gave her a spare toothbrush and one of his own shirts to sleep in. She brushed her teeth and took a shower, then put on Hal’s shirt. Ellie was a big woman, but it fell to her knees.
It was a black-and-red checked flannel shirt, buttoned down the front. She rubbed the hem between her fingers. It was soft, well-worn, and though it was clean, it had a very faint, lingering scent that she knew had to belong to Hal. Wearing it made her feel cozy yet lonely, as if she was both close to Hal and reminded of how far away he really was.
When she got out of the bathroom, he said, “If your apartment isn’t safe to return to by the time you wake up, I’ll have my team pack up some of your clothes and bring them. Now get some rest.”
“Do I get a cappuccino in the morning?” she asked playfully.
“Absolutely,” he promised. “I’ll even make a fancy pattern on the top with chocolate shavings, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds like something to look forward to. Good night—” Ellie realized that it was still barely afternoon. “I mean—”
Hal smiled. “Good night, Ellie.”
“Good night, Hal.”
Ellie closed the door of the guest bedroom and flopped down on the bed, too tired at first to even turn off the light. She lay on her back and looked around the room. Like the rest of Hal’s apartment, it was cozy. The mattress was firm but not too firm, the pillows soft but not too soft.
This bed is too big, she thought with a grin. This bed is too small.
As she reached out and clicked off the light, her last thought before she sank into a dreamless sleep was, But this bed is juuuust right...
***
Ellie lay helpless in an alley. She tried to get up, but her limbs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t feel the ground beneath her back.
Paralysis, she thought. Nerve damage. Spinal injury.
Nagle stood over her, looking down with eyes as cold as a winter frost. “You can still back out. Promise not to testify, and I’ll let you live.”
Terrified, she tried to agree. Part of her hated herself for her own cowardice, but another part was desperate to live. But her lips wouldn’t open. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t speak.
Nagle snapped his fingers at the hit man. “Kill her. Oh, and kill her bodyguard, too.”
She couldn’t turn her head, but she could move her eyes to follow Nagle’s gesture. To her horror, she saw Hal sprawled beside her. He’d been shot. Blood drenched his shirt and jeans. He was lying in a pool of it, shiny and black under the harsh white streetlights. His eyes were closed.
But he was still alive. She could hear his breathing, fast and shallow. His skin was sweaty and pale beneath the tan.
Hypovolemic shock, Ellie thought. Apply direct pressure to stop the bleeding, stabilize cervical spine, give oxygen, start an IV, and transport immediately.
She struggled to get up, to get to him, to throw herself across his body to protect him. But she couldn’t move.
His eyes fluttered open. “Ellie? Help me...”
She couldn’t move.
Hal was going to die, and she couldn’t help him.
It was all her fault.
Her fault.
Her fault...
Ellie sat bolt upright in bed, gasping, her heart pounding. It was pitch black. She didn’t know where she was.