Page 54 of All's Fair in Love and Blackmail
“Why was he even in here without telling someone—”Juliet sobs from behind me as I move closer to the body of the guy in black.
Is it safe to check his pulse? Probably, right? Will I even be able to feel it over the pounding of my own blood?
“—probably had a wife and kids?—”
“Juliet!” I snap, losing my patience as I turn to glare at her. “Get it together!”
She clamps her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide, and then she nods frantically, trying to hold in her impossibly loud wails so I can think.
She’s violently emotional, but she’s also very self-aware.
“I’m going to check his pulse,” I breathe, and Juliet gives another vigorous nod; her body is still shaking with sobs, but she’s blessedly silent.
I creep closer, lowering myself slowly and praying harder than I’ve ever prayed to anyone for anything—my arm shakes as I stretch it toward the man’s neck, my hand trembling visibly even when I touch his skin. I startle at the warmth but press firmly anyway, just beneath his jaw, hunting for thethud-thud-thud, and?—
“There!” I say as I feel it, finally, pushing at my fingertips. Tears spring to my eyes, a knot rising in my throat, and I don’t even care. “He’s alive—he’s alive.”
The faintly flour-filled gulp of air I pull in feels like the first I’ve taken in the last five minutes, and I suck in more, greedy, my vision swimming as my head floats.
He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.
I jump, clambering to my feet again as Aurora bursts into the kitchen, seemingly out of nowhere, as short of breath as I am. Her eyes find the body on the floor—thelivingbody—and then she turns to me.
“Did you kill him?” she says.
“No!” I say, still inhaling hungry gulps of oxygen. “No.”
“Because if you did”—she eyes the man on the floor again, her face deadly serious—“we need a plan.”
“I didn’t!” I say.
“Well, somebody did something,” she says, skeptical now. She nudges the guy with her foot.
“Imean”—I glare at her—“that he isn’t dead. He’s just unconscious. I hit him with the cake pan.”
“Like Rapunzel; good call,” she says with a brisk nod. “Who is he? What was he doing here?”
“I have no idea,” I say, biting my lip. “I’ve never seen him before. I was just here waiting for Juliet, and he showed up. He was coming toward me, and he looked like he was reaching for a knife.” I look back and forth between Aurora and Juliet, whose hands are still clamped over her mouth. At least she’s not crying anymore. “Ror, what if he’s a new tenant?”
“Mom would have told us he was coming,” Aurora says, but she looks unsure.
“Should we call an ambulance?”
“Are you kidding?” she says, putting her hands on her hips now and shooting me a disbelieving look. “No way. What if you get arrested?”
Holy crap. Am I going to bearrested?
Next to us, Juliet begins to cry again.
“No,” Aurora says now. She shakes her head. “Nope.” Then she pulls out her phone and makes a call. I don’t stop her, because unlike Juliet, she keeps a cool head in a crisis, so I trust her decision-making skills.
“Hey,” she says a couple seconds later. “You worked as an EMT in college, right? You probably have a first-aid kit, yeah?” She pauses, listening, her eyes flicking to the guy on the floor. “Okay. We need help. It’s an emergency. We’re at my parents’ place—and don’t tell Cy.” She listens again, nods, and then says, “Yeah. Hurry. Bye.”
I crouch down by the body, giving him a little shake. “We should call an ambulance,” I say. The relief I felt at finding this man’s pulse is giving way to panic once more.
“No,” Aurora says decisively. “Poppy will be here in one minute; she was already in the car. Let her look at him first.” Then she pins me and Juliet with a look. “And we need to get our stories straight—just in case.”
Juliet speaks for the first time in several minutes. “Just in casewhat?” she says, her voice tremulous.
