EXCERPT: Search Me

Title: Search Me
(Cover Me Series Book #3)
Author: L. A. Witt
Publisher: Carnal Passions
Format(s): eBook, paperback

EXCERPT:

"Jesse, I didn't kill anyone." Nick's voice shook, but the gun in his hands stayed rock steady.

"Listen to him, Jesse," I said. "He didn't kill anyone. Chelsea's alive. She's fine."

"No, she's not," Jesse said. "I'm not stupid, Mark. I saw her. I fucking saw her."

"And you damn near killed me," Nick growled.

Jesse crumbled into incomprehensible crying and mumbling.

Struggling to keep my voice calm, I said, "Chelsea is not dead, Jesse."

"You're both lying." Jesse's voice inched toward even greater hysteria. He tore at his own hair, wavering back and forth on shaking knees. "She's dead, I saw her, and they moved everything out of her house and took it all away, and—"

"Jesse, I can call her," Nick said. "We'll let you talk to her. She's alive, I promise."

Jesse clutched his hair and shook his head and fidgeted. "You're lying. You're lying. I'm not stupid, Mark, I'm not stupid and she's dead, I saw her, I saw what he did to her, I saw it, you—"

"She's not dead, Jesse," Nick said.

"You're lying!" All at once, Jesse went for a gun on the floor, and Nick fired. The sound and recoil must have caught him off guard, especially with the vertigo from his concussion, and he grabbed the doorframe for balance.

Jesse dropped to the floor, screaming. For about two seconds, I thought he was neutralized and this might be over, but then he lunged for one of the guns.

"Nick! The gun!" Without thinking, I shoved Nick out of the way. A gunshot. Pain. More shots.

I dropped to my knees, holding my arm. The wound was worse than it had been earlier. Far worse. No, no, it wasn't. This was a new one. A deeper, bloodier one, right through my upper arm.

"Oh, fuck…"

A hand materialized on my shoulder.

Nick's voice sounded far away as he said, "Are you—"

"Get the gun," I said through my teeth.

Nick left my side. I was vaguely aware of movement, of Jesse moaning beside me, but more than anything, I was aware of the hot blood slipping through my fingers and over the back of my hand.

My head spun. I slumped forward, my vision turning black, and from nowhere, Nick was beside me again.

"Easy," he said. "Lie back." He guided me onto my back, which slowed some of the spinning. Then he was gone again. Panic rose in my throat, alternately directed at the wound, my waning consciousness, and Nick's absence.

His voice and presence returned. "Look, I'm a paramedic and one of these guys might be bleeding out." Who is he talking to? "I need both hands to do this. Just send help and send it now."

A second later, something clattered beside me. A gun? A phone? Fuck if I knew, because the pain in my arm worsened.

Someone was moving my arm. Squeezing it.

"Keep a tight grip on this," Nick said, guiding my hand to a towel he'd wrapped around my arm, "and hold it against your side. It's going to hurt like hell, but don't let go of it."

I gripped the towel, which sent daggers of pain shooting through the wound. "Fuck, that hurts."

"It's going to. But don't let go."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I looked around at the blood and bullet holes in the room. "Looks like you're fucked for your damage deposit," I muttered.

Nick chuckled. "And I thought I had a dark sense of humor." He nodded at my arm. "Keep holding that."

He started to stand.

Panicked, I seized his wrist. "Wait, where are you going?"

Nick gestured at Jesse. "I have to help him. He's bleeding badly. I'm not going far and help is on its way."

"Nick…" My heart pounded. My head spun faster.

Don't leave me like this. Nick, don't leave. Don't go, please.

But he got up. As I fought to stay conscious, to see through

the pain and my fading vision, he got up and walked away.

He walked away.

He walked away.

Nick…don't leave me like this…

~ * ~

My eyes flew open and I pulled in a breath.

That same fucking dream again. I wanted to tell myself it wasn't real, that it was just a damned dream, but I knew better. Sighing I rubbed my eyes. The dull ache in my other arm reminded me that no amount of "it's not real" would change the fact that the dream was real. It had happened. The better part of a year ago, yes, but whether it had happened back then or just now, it was anything but "not real".

I fidgeted, then cursed under my breath. No wonder my arm ached: it was pressed between the back of the couch and me. I moved just enough to free my arm, then raised it, bending and straightening my elbow gingerly. Same thing happened last night. One of these days, maybe I'd learn how to sleep on the couch without fucking up my arm. Like facing the other direction or something.

Then again, it would all be a moot point if I just got up and stayed in the bedroom, but I couldn't. Not now.

I couldn't sleep in the bedroom because Nick was gone.

I was used to spending nights apart, but this was different. This wasn't like when he stayed at the firehouse for his three day shifts. During his rotations, he was gone for a few nights, and when that was over, he came through the front door, sleepy-eyed and exhausted, in the morning before I went to work. Not this time. He was really gone this time. Not moved out yet, but all it would take was a borrowed pickup truck, some cardboard boxes, and a few hours to take care of that.

He hadn't decided yet if this was permanent, but it didn't feel temporary to me. There was too much finality in the click of the front door two nights ago. He didn't storm out. He didn't slam the door. He just quietly said he had to go, needed to go—Nick, please, don't go—and slipped through my fingers.

I exhaled and rubbed my forehead, swallowing the lump that kept trying to rise in my throat. We'd had problems for a while now, but I'd been so sure we'd be all right. Even when we'd fought and couldn't stand the sight of each other, when we went days on end without speaking, I knew we'd make it through. Somehow, we'd make it through.

I thought we would, anyway. There was never any doubt in my mind that what we had was solid enough to weather damn near anything.

Now, all I knew was that Nick's side of the bed was empty.