Powell’s face was pinched with worry when he handed Ellie the wet towel and took out his phone. “I should’ve called right away. I was so stressed out, I didn’t think to call it in.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes. He hadn’t seemed stressed for a second, almost as if he’d known what he was walking into.
Phone to his ear, Powell stepped away. “Yes, hello. This is Dr. Powell with the Charleston Police Department. I’m going to need an ambulance.” He paused. “Actually, more than one. I have multiple injured.”
Multiple injured? Did he think the master was still out there on the property?
Jillian moaned, drawing Ellie’s attention away from Powell as he rattled off the location of the warehouse. Ellie stood, leaning close and pressing the wet towel over the gash on Jillian’s head. “Dr. Powell is calling an ambulance, it’s going to be okay.”
“Dr. Powell…” She cleared her throat and licked her lips, eyes half open.
“It’s all right, you don’t need to talk. We’re safe now.”
“Not…safe.”
Ellie frowned as the door creaked open again, holding the towel in place as she turned. Her heart renewed its violent pounding in her chest.
An unfamiliar young man stood in the doorway, loose dark brown curls framing a cherubic face. For an instant he stood there, mouth slack, eyes darting over the scene.
Powell froze, and the two held each other’s gaze for a long second before the phone slipped from his hand.
The stranger raised a gun, squeezing off three shots before Ellie could react.
Powell jerked, then stumbled and tripped on his own feet before slamming into the wall.
Reacting on instinct, Ellie fired off a single shot at the stranger in the doorway.
The young man’s eyes widened, and he spread his feet wider in an attempt to remain upright. Stunned, he dropped the weapon, and it bounced off the toe of his shoe and slid across the concrete. Red spread in a perfect circle near the center of his shirt. His chest heaved, pain evident on his face. Stumbling backward, his eyes locked on her. He winced as his back hit the wall as he sank to the floor with his hands covering the wound, as if he could stop the flow of blood.
Ellie kicked the gun out of his reach, then spun and grabbed a towel as she ran toward Powell.
“He shot me.” Powell’s voice was barely above a whisper. Trembling with pain as he sat spread-eagle against the wall, his breath was thin and rapid, sweat beading on his forehead and collecting until it dripped down his face. He’d taken two bullets to the chest, blood streaming down his shirt.
Heart racing, Ellie took off her jacket and helped him lay down on the floor, slipping it behind Powell’s head. “I’m going to put pressure on the wound and try to stop the bleeding.”
Powell nodded his understanding, his pale skin sallow. Folding the towel over the wound that was bleeding the worst, she pressed down with all her weight, cursing her carelessness. The master always worked with a partner. She should’ve expected him, and her mistake might have cost Powell his life.
The younger man was still sitting against the wall near the door, his breath loud and ragged, hands covered in blood. His lips were moving, his voice too low to be heard across the room over Powell’s labored breathing.
Powell moaned, and Ellie turned her attention back to the doctor who’d spent so much time and effort trying to help her work through her past. His skin was grayish now, a bad sign. “Stay with me. Keep talking, okay?”
“Hurts.” Lying in a pool of his own blood, his head tilted to the side, his eyes were focused on something in the distance.
“I know it hurts.” She let a nervous laugh escape. “I’ve been shot a couple times. The trick is to stay awake. I’m going to ask you a question, and you just answer yes or no, okay?”
“Yes.”
“What day is it?”
His lips spread in a half smile, and he grimaced. “You said yes or no.”
His attempt at humor gave her hope that he might pull through. He wouldn’t be joking with her if he was dying, right? Beside him, his hand flopped near his waist as if he was searching for something. Holding the towel with one hand, she took his hand with the other and squeezed gently. He closed his eyes, coughed, and pinched his lips together.
“You’re right, I did say yes or no answers.” This time her laugh was forced, but she was trying to keep his spirits up and quell the panic growing inside her. What was taking the paramedics so long?
He opened his eyes but glanced down at his torso instead of at her. His hand moved again, weak and trembling. “It’s Friday the thirteenth.”
“Good. Next question. Do you work as a barista for Charleston PD?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes.”
The fact that he was able to joke was encouraging, despite the shadow of death that clung to him. Frantic to keep him engaged, she pressed on. “You said you knew the man known as the master. Do you know his name?”
“Yes.” Powell’s head lulled to the side, and his eyelids drooped.
The distant wail of a siren was so soft she thought she’d imagined it, until it grew a little louder. They were close. If Powell could just hold on a little longer, the paramedics would be there to save his life.
He had to live. He was the only one who knew the identity of the master.
28
“Stay with me, Dr. Powell.” Ellie let go of the towel long enough to pat his cheek roughly, forcing him awake.
He managed to open his eyes, though his breathing was shallower now.
Moving the towel, she scowled at the fresh blood that appeared. “I need to unbutton your shirt so I can see the wound.”
“Paramedics,” he managed.
“They’re close, I can hear them. But the highway winds around so much they might be another few minutes. Let me help you.” Her fingers
