Alisha parted her lips to speak, but no sound came out.
The pain in her side still throbbed relentlessly, a deep, burning ache that refused to be ignored. She had barely made it home without collapsing. After being shot by one of the armed men who had somehow refused to die despite the bullets shot in his body, she had been immediately treated by Jace.
It worked. For a while.
But the moment she stepped out of her car, despite her careful movements, she felt the faint tug and shift of the bandage.
Jace had suggested she spend the night at her parents' house so someone could watch her, but the risk was too high. If Mr. De Rossi was indeed the man behind the illegal arms trafficking—and her gut told her he was—Dante would be quick to notice her absence, and she could be his first suspect.
She'd been hoping to slip in quietly, tend to herself, and pretend nothing had happened.
