I exhaled a breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“That is good news.”
Sadie’s eyes are on me as she stands to clear the dishes. I shake my head, wanting her to leave the cleanup for me to do.
“Do you have an exact location? An address?”
“I’ll text it to you,” he says.
“Thanks.” I end the call and help Sadie with the dinner dishes.
“Everything okay?” she asks, glancing at me from the sink.
“I have a lead on the man who shot me.”
“What?” The drinking glass slips through her hand and smashes against the floor, splintering into tiny shards.
Groaning, Sadie bends to pick up the slivers. “Shit.” She curses under her breath as a tiny sliver of glass gets embedded in her hand. Sadie hurries across the hallway to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
Between the slamming bathroom door and Kona barking, Allie removes her headset. “Is everything—” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
“Keep the dog out of the kitchen,” I say, instructing Allie on what to do. “I’ll clean up the glass after I check on your mom.”
Allie grabs Kona by the collar and drags her into her bedroom, locking the dog safely out of harm’s way.
I give a prominent knock on the bathroom door. “Sadie?”
“Yeah,” Sadie says with a groan.
“Let me in. I can help bandage your hand.”
There’s movement on the other side of the door, and the lock clicks, allowing me to enter the bathroom. “It’s open,” she says.
Her palm is face up. She’s got a set of metal tweezers on the sink and an open bottle of rubbing alcohol beside it.
Kona continues barking from the bedroom, and I close the bathroom door to help silence the noise.
I take her hand that’s injured, bringing it closer to my face to examine the injury thoroughly. There’s no blood because the tiny sliver is still nestled in her palm. It’s small, the size of a splinter, but I’m sure it hurts like hell.
“I tried the tweezers, but I’m not left-handed.”
I reach for the tweezers and promptly remove the tiny glass sliver within a matter of seconds before running her palm under running water.
Her cheeks are rosy, and sweat glistens on her forehead. “You’re okay,” I say, offering her a reassuring smile. I’ve seen far worse injuries. Hell, so has she, when I was shot.
“Bandages?” I ask.
She points to the medicine cabinet, and I open it and retrieve a small bandage to affix to her hand.
“All better.” I bring her palm to my lips and place a kiss on her bandaged injury
“Thanks, Dmitri.”
“Of course.” I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, my gaze never leaving hers. “I need to clean up the rest of the glass. I think Kona wants out.”
“She probably does,” Sadie says. “What were you saying about knowing who shot you?”
The woman doesn’t miss a thing. I probably shouldn’t have said as much as I did, which was next to nothing.