Chapter 37

“For the last time…” Though Joe didn’t move, his eyes locked on Carlo’s. Sure. Knowing. “Let. Him. Go.”

Stout’s smile disappeared. “And for the last time—”

A gun went off. Carlo twisted as hard as he could out of Stout’s hold, throwing himself down and away. He expected a second shot at any moment, or pain because he was hit, but the only sound he heard was his sharp exhalation when his chest slammed into the floor, the only feeling the aching jolt up his arms.

Footsteps pounded across the room. Carlo rolled over in time for Joe to fill his vision, the stalwart mask he’d worn since walking in stripped away. In its place was fear, manifested in hands reaching out for Carlo’s shoulders, fingers roaming over his shoulders and chest in search of fresh blood.

“You all right?” Joe asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.”