Jackie let out a long, slow breath and nearly collapsed against Trey. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Not yet.” His words skidded through her hair and over her forehead, sending sensual ripples through her. She had forgotten to whisper, and now she froze, waiting for one of the men to come back and find them.
But they didn’t.
She waited a little longer, straining to hear.
Suddenly heavy footsteps thudded past their hiding place. Then another sound…Was that the entrance door opening and closing?
Sweat dripped down her face. She reached for the knob and whispered, “Now?”
“Okay.” He shifted, unable to put distance between them in the small space. She didn’t mind. He made her feel safe.
She turned the slick knob and stepped into the hall. Her legs had gone wobbly, and she clutched his sleeve for balance. “T-that was t-tense.”
“You said it.” He stepped out behind her. “Are you okay?”
His gaze ran over her, every spot his blue eyes touched alerting like a bulb on a string of Christmas lights.
“I-I will be in a minute.” Jackie took a breath, let it out. Took another and released that one. When she raised her hand to wipe away the perspiration, she smelled blood and stared at him. He must be bleeding.
Trey sucked a knuckle, and her insides sank. She’d bitten him there in her panic. “You’re bleeding.”
She pulled in a breath and reached out, stopping short of touching him. “I’m so sorry, Trey. I—”
He held up his other hand. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you. That was my bad. Don’t worry. I’ve got a first aid kit in the car.” He walked to the building’s entrance.
“Wait. I have some tissues.” She groped inside her tote and pulled one from the packet. He shook his head, and she wiped her own hand.
“Changed my mind.” He raised his brows. “Can I have one?”
She held out the packet. He pulled one. She stood by while he swabbed his hand, feeling useless and tugging on her wristband. “I guess you’re here looking for Mike, too.”
“Yeah.” He heaved in a big breath, not as recovered as she’d thought. “I heard he had an office here. He’s obviously not at his house.”
She leaned closer. “You checked by there earlier?”
He retreated a step, still holding his wounded hand, and looked down at her. “Why are you looking for Trosclair?”
“I want to talk to him about using my address officially, and I can’t get ahold of him by phone.”
“Can you try calling him now?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jackie pulled her phone and found the number, her eyes on Trey’s bloody tissue. Mike’s voicemail kicked in, and she disconnected and shook her head.
“Looking for his office was probably a stupid idea.” She glanced around for a waste receptacle, but finding none, dropped the used tissue into her tote. “I really came into New Orleans for my godchild’s birthday party.”
Trey’s black eyebrows rose. “You can still go.”
Her heart tumbled into freefall. This line sounded so like teenaged Trey, comforting and encouraging; even though he pressed his lips together as if he hadn’t meant to say anything—another trait she remembered.
“You’re right.” She studied Trey, about to ask him if he had a card with his contact number. But he would have offered if he wanted to stay in touch.
So that was that. She squelched a sigh and pushed the entrance open and stepped outside.
“Hey! a male voice boomed. “You there!”
* * *
Trey’s gaze landed on the stocky dude standing beside a car at the curb. Dammit!
His pulse ricocheted.
He grabbed Jackie’s arm and ran toward the corner of the building. She stumbled, and he switched his hold to her hand.
Pop!
A bullet pinged off the brick beside him, but they rounded the corner of the building. Then reached the rear.
He tugged her across the open concrete and behind the dumpster he’d seen when he’d arrived. But they were still completely exposed to view, and none of the neighborhood houses had bushes where they could hide—if they got that far.
“He’s shooting!” Jackie squeezed his hand.