“If you use military time, you don’t have to say a.m. or p.m.,” her father had said with a satisfied snort. “Saves time, and everyone understands exactly what you mean. You ever heard someone get confused by twelve? Is it at night, or at lunch? It’s asinine is what it is.”
Jillian smiled at the memory of her late father lamenting about the inefficiency of civilian time measurement. It had been one of his most common complaints, even twenty years after he’d retired. He was bullheaded and brass, with a heart of solid gold and a gift for turning anything into a dirty joke.
He would’ve loved Ellie.
A pet store on the right side of the street caught her eye. Tempted to skip it, she thought of Sam waiting patiently for someone to come home to walk her and decided Ellie was right. Sam deserved an extra treat, and the snarled line of cars wasn’t going to get better in the next few minutes anyway.
She pulled into the parking lot and got out, eating the last of her fries and rolling the bag up so her burger didn’t get cold. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said out loud. Grabbing her purse, she yawned and stepped out into the warm sun, arming her car. A quick run through the store would wake her up, and Sam would appreciate a special treat. It was a detour that would make them both feel better.
She skipped the carts, heading straight for the aisle that held the massive bones, treats, and colorful toys. Zeroing in on the largest bone, she grabbed it and a box of hamburger-patty-shaped treats. The line was short, and she was back in her car a few minutes later and on the road again. To avoid the bumper to bumper traffic, she took a lesser known route, breathing a sigh of relief at the much lighter traffic.
Her mind wandered as she drove, wondering at Nick’s presence at the safe house. She hadn’t wanted to ask Ellie about it when she was so upset, but Jillian was suspicious of Nick’s sudden appearance there.
Sure, he had a right to be upset at Ellie’s suspicions, but his reaction could be genuine, or a way to cover up his guilt. Jillian didn’t know Nick well enough to decide which it was. On the surface, everything Ellie had told her seemed legit enough, but there were people who made a hell of a living convincing others that they were sincere. His explanation had sounded like a trip into downtown to check on Ellie would’ve wasted precious time, but he hadn’t even tried to call Jillian. She was sure of it.
Desperate to hear from Ellie, Jillian had checked her phone every five minutes all night. It seemed odd that he would think to save time going to the safe house first, when Jillian had given him her phone number after Ellie had been shot last year, and it had never occurred to him to use it.
He knows I live with Ellie, she thought, scowling. In the same scenario, if she’d called Ellie’s phone and got just voicemail, Jillian would have immediately called Nick. It just seemed like the natural—
The world exploded into a tremendous crash.
A cacophony of sounds.
Tires squealing.
Glass shattering. Spraying.
Tiny tempered shards pelted the skin on the right side of her face and arm.
Head flying to the left, her teeth clanked together as her head connected with the driver’s side window. A cloud of white exploded in the same instant, slapping her in the cheek. Her skin burned as a car horn—hers?—loud and constant, drowned out the rush of blood in her ears.
Blinking, Jillian fought to keep her head upright as the airbag deflated and powder filled the air, making her cough.
The car shook, and she winced, pain radiating through her body as she turned her head.
The grill of a large SUV untangled itself from the mangled passenger door as the driver backed up.
She coughed again, tiny droplets of blood spraying onto the limp airbag.
I’m hurt.
Her mind raced as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. But her head was pounding, and she struggled just to focus on her surroundings.
A hand reached through the driver’s window, shoving the gear shift into park. Turning the key, a man with elegant gray at his temples cut the engine and turned it back so the radio and dashboard lights came back on.
Jillian watched him, unable to understand what he was doing. Turning her head slowly, she was trying to figure out how he had reached through her closed window when she remembered she’d busted it with her own head.
“My name is Jillian Reed.” Her voice was distant, weak. Automatically, her right hand began searching the center console where her cell phone was securely mounted so it could be found in an accident. A precaution most people never thought to take. Her fingers touched the familiar plastic as her door opened, and someone leaned across her, taking her phone. “My roommate’s number is stored in the contacts.” Her speech was slurred, her head drumming, and her eyes growing heavy. “The unlock code is nine two…I can’t…remember. Jillian. Jillian Reed from the—”
“I know who you are, Jillian Reed.” He held the phone in front of her face so she could see it. “You won’t be needing this.”
She frowned, sending fresh pain through her head. “What?”
“She’s hurt pretty bad.” It was a different voice, coming from the mouth of an angel. A gorgeous, dark haired angel.
“Put her in the back of the SUV.”
Jillian shook her head, then remembered not to move too much, closing her eyes against the pain. “No. Don’t move me. I could be seriously injured. The paramedics—”
“Won’t be here before we’re gone.” The older man laughed.
Jillian forced her eyes open, but the world was fuzzy. The dark angel appeared beside her, but her neck was stiff now, and she couldn’t turn her head. Strong
