I breathe in slowly like Saxon taught me—count in, hold it and count, let it out slowly. "Okay. Okay."
"Good. Stop thinking about the man you killed. He's dead, and you had no choice. You can have your breakdown later. Right now, focus on Saxon."
I set the phone down, roll my head on my neck, breathe a few times, and shake my hands. Pick up the phone. "Okay, I'm good."
"Excellent. Now. Is his leg bleeding?"
I look. "Not bleeding, just…seeping, a little. I'm worried though, I had to tighten the tourniquet really tight."
"You can't worry about that. But I wouldn't in any case—Saxon has survived far, far worse. He passed out from blood loss. You need to check his pulse. Put two fingers on the side of his throat, about two fingers’ width down from his jaw. You may have to feel around a bit and push in a little harder than you'd think. Find it?"
I follow her instructions. "Yes. I have it."
"Now. Look at the phone—the counter telling how long the call is lasting. Count how many times his heart beats in fifteen seconds, and then multiply that number by four."
I count. "Uhhh, ten? What does that mean?"
"It means he's bradycardic—his pulse is weak. That's not good, but forty isn't on death's door, either. I have contacts in the area—east coast, roughly, but I need to know your twenty."
"My what?"
"Apologies—I'm used to dealing with the boys, military men, all. I mean your location."
"Um, we have someone sending help."
"Who?"
"Camilla Marccione, via Jean-Paul DuPlessis."
"I see." The two syllables pack a lot. "You trust them?"
"Camilla, to a degree. Jean-Paul, not really. But Jean-Paul helped us set this up, and he knows where we are. I didn't have his number, but I did have Camilla’s. Saxon told me to call her and then you."
"Oh, by the way, your belongings have arrived. I've placed them in secure storage here at the club.”
“Do you happen to know if my purse is with that stuff? It kind of got lost in all the moving around."
"I didn't see it."
"Dammit. It's all been such a whirlwind I have no idea where I left it."
"If it doesn't turn up, we'll replace everything. I'm not sure what Saxon has told you about us, but since you're talking to me, you're one of us, now. Which means we have your back. And Miss Connelly, we have considerable resources at our disposal."
That phrase. It became an inside thing for Saxon and me, and now she uses it. She can't know, of course, but it still hits like a ton of bricks.
"One of you."
"Yes. We are a strange, eclectic, dysfunctional group of ex-killers, but we’re a family."
"He made it seem like you're his boss."
"Events of late have served to alter my view of the relationships between myself and the men. The arrival of the women, for one. I've always had a hard time relating to men except through violence and authority. But lately…" she trails off, giving a single harsh laugh. "We will talk more later, Miss Connelly. Saxon's brother Solomon has gotten himself into quite a pickle, and I need to attend to that situation."
"Okay. Um, Miss Inez?"
"Just Inez."
"And I’m just Terra. But, um. What do I do? I mean, someone comes to get us, but…then what?"
