Watch Your Back by Karen Rose

me.’ Clay crouched down, took Cordelia into his arms, keeping his gun in his hand. Just in case the shooter comes back. ‘Get Stevie in the house,’ he said to JD, then beelined for the front door, looking over his shoulder to make sure JD and Stevie were following. Just turning to glance behind him hurt like a bitch.
    Kevlar might have saved his life a time or two or three, but the shots still hurt. He’d be bruised and sore for days. He looked down at the little girl in his arms. She stared up at him, her eyes unseeing, her teeth chattering.
    The flowers were crushed into her jacket.
    Undiluted rage boiled up inside him, but he kept it far enough away from his eyes that he didn’t frighten her further. JD was supporting Stevie’s weight as she hobbled, but as Clay carried Cordelia through the door, JD picked Stevie up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and ran the rest of the way in, slamming the door behind them.
    Alec sat with his back to the wall, knees to his chest. Alert. Unhurt.
    A small, blonde woman Clay had never seen before sat next to Alec, clutching a phone to her ear. She was talking to the 911 operator. Her voice was calm but her face was paper white and she pressed the heel of her other hand to her breastbone. Her shirt was bloody.
    ‘Are you hit?’ Clay demanded and she shook her head.
    ‘It’s from earlier,’ JD said wearily. ‘This is Stevie’s second shooting today. Her third since yesterday.’
    ‘Her third—’ Clay nearly stumbled, but he kept himself upright. Kept Cordelia safe in his arms. ‘What the hell, JD?’
    ‘You’ll have to ask Stevie. She knows better than everyone else.’ JD said the words bitterly as he laid Stevie on the sofa.
    She immediately sat up and reached for her daughter. Pain flashed in her dark eyes and she hunched her left shoulder, but her arm stayed outstretched, waiting.
    It was then that Clay saw the blood seeping through the sleeve of her Baltimore PD T-shirt. A white bandage peeked out from below the sleeve. Three shots in two days. She’d been hit.
    ‘Give her to me. Please,’ she added hoarsely.
    Clay settled Cordelia in her arms and stepped back. ‘Blankets?’
    ‘Upstairs,’ Stevie whispered. ‘Hall closet.’
    JD grabbed Clay’s arm. ‘I’ll get them. You sit down. You look like shit.’
    ‘Cops’ll be here in less than three minutes,’ the blonde said.
    Holstering his gun, Clay sat down on the other end of the sofa. His lungs were beginning to function again. He drew a deep breath, testing his limits, then winced. Lungs worked, ribs didn’t. He drew a few shallower breaths, then turned his eyes on Stevie.
    Her eyes clenched shut, she rocked her daughter in small movements he wasn’t sure she was aware of. Her lips moved soundlessly, all the color leached from her face. He’d seen her paler – the day she’d nearly bled out in his arms on the courthouse steps. But not much paler.
    He focused on her mouth, on the words her lips formed. I’m sorry , she was saying. Over and over as she rocked.
    One shooting yesterday. Two more today. Today, the anniversary of her husband’s murder.
    It seemed like too much coincidence. Clay had never believed in coincidence.
    ‘Stevie,’ he said softly, not wanting to distress Cordelia who now mewled pitifully, her face pressed against her mother’s shoulder.
    Stevie met his eyes over Cordelia’s head. She no longer looked terrified. She looked haunted. Guilty.
    ‘What the hell is going on here?’

Chapter Five
    Baltimore, Maryland, Saturday, March 15, 6.19 P.M.
    S tevie opened her mouth, but no words came out. Clay was staring at her angrily, his eyes hard, his jaw clenched. He breathed shallowly. But at least he breathed.
    He’d taken two bullets. For me . She pulled Cordelia closer to her body. For us .
    ‘I . . . I c-ca—’ She choked on the words, shaking her head. Rocking her daughter.
    Clay’s expression softened, anger becoming worry. Keeping his head