I could understand his pain. He didn’t want me to be affected any more than I already was. Giving me the tools to fight might cause me to tread somewhere I wouldn’t have gone otherwise. Maybe. But if he was in danger, my friends were in danger—I would defend them no matter what.
“Trust me,” I urged him.
“I do.” His eyes searched mine, and I saw the struggle there. “You shouldn’t have to be somewhere and worry about a bomb going off—or even worry about having to protect someone,” he said. “That’s my life, and I hate that it’s affected you like this.”
“I know, but it has. I pulled you in before. Now you’re pulling me in. That’s how it is. That’s what you do for someone you love.” I grabbed the ends of his sweatshirt and pulled him close. “You go where they go. You walk their same path. What happens to them, happens to you. It’s the burden of loving someone. You deal with it because that person is there when you need them. You helped me; now let me help you. Give me the skills to help you, too.”
He caught the back of my neck and pulled me to him. He smiled. “No matter what, I’m proud you’re at my side.” Then his lips fused with mine, and he murmured against them, “Once you’re healed, I’ll train you. I promise.”
I was going to hold him to that.
It was the middle of the night when I woke to find Carter slipping from the bed. I sat up, groggy, and looked at the clock. 3 am. Then I heard the knocking.
“Who is that?”
Carter looked back at me, pulling a shirt on. “There was no warning. I’m assuming it’s one of the guards.” But after he pulled some pants on and reached for his gun, I knew there was a question to that statement. He gripped the weapon in one hand and bent down to press his lips to my forehead. “I suppose you’re not going to go back to sleep.”
As he straightened, I threw off the covers and clambered for my own clothes. I snorted. “Are you kidding me?”
His eyes darkened in disapproval. “You stay back. I mean it, Emma.”
I threw him a quick frown, hopping on one leg as I struggled to pull my jeans up. Sleepiness, a sore body, and jeans were a deadly combination, but I was going.
“I mean it, Emma. You stay back, no matter who it is.”
When they knocked again and he didn’t leave to answer, I knew he wouldn’t until I agreed. So I did so, reluctantly. “Okay, but I’m coming to listen. I’m not staying in bed.”
The knocking came again. Carter looked back at the door. “Come quietly. I’m going.”
“Okay.”
He disappeared from the doorway, and I hurried. Grabbing the other 9mm—the one Carter didn’t know I knew about—from the closet, I made sure the safety was on and headed down the hall behind him. Shoes. Shit. Remembering one of his rules—always be prepared to run—I went back and slipped on some sneakers. Then as quietly as I could, I went out to the living room. When I got there, Carter was talking to Thomas so I slowed to a walk, knots in my gut. They spoke in quiet, hushed tones, and as I approached, both looked at me with emotionless faces.
My pulse spiked for a second. “What is it?” Another bombing. Someone had been shot. Scenarios flashed through my mind.
“It’s your sister,” Carter said, and images of her—with my face—bloody and broken, replaced those other thoughts.
I reached for the wall to steady myself. “What? Is she okay?”
Thomas left, shutting the door behind him, and Carter came over to me. “She’s at a club asking for you.”
“Club? What club?”
“One of mine. She caused a scene, and the staff took her in when someone snapped her picture. She wouldn’t stop yelling until they promised to get you.” He paused a beat, skimming over my face. “It’s up to you. What do you want to do?”
“I want to see her.” I remembered seeing her the other night, after the bomb went off. “So it was her.”
“Looks like.”
“Oh.” Okay then. This was actually happening. “I’m going to see my sister.”
He nodded again, still watching me intently. “Are you sure you want to do it this way? She commands, and you show up? Do you want to control the environment?”
My sister. I couldn’t get over it. “What?” It was really happening. “Huh?”
“Emma.” Carter took my shoulders and bent down so his eyes were level with mine. “Focus. Your sister chose this time and place. What if it’s a trap? What if the Bartels got to her?”
My hands clutched at his arms. “We have to go now, then, before they do something.”