presence as he thought. Of all the scenarios he had imagined when coming face-to-face with Priscilla again, Luc had never anticipated a total lack of recognition. God, what should I do now—ask my questions or wait to see what she says?
He stayed silent as her fingers in his hair brought forward vivid memories of their time together at the Last Chance Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. He closed his eyes, letting go for a moment all the unanswered questions, and tried to relax as she touched his hair.
The front window shattered and an object zipped by him. His eyes popped open as someone screamed. Then something whizzed by his chest, striking the wall to the right of him with a thump.
“That’s gunfire!” Luc slid out of the chair onto the floor as the pop-pop-pop of three consecutive shots mingled with the sound of more breaking glass. Shards from the mirror at Priscilla’s station rained down on his head. Where was Priscilla?
Luc shook his head to rid it of bits of glass as he frog-walked behind the next station, then saw Priscilla running toward the back of the store. Lord, please keep her safe. Help me to protect her. Another hail of bullets shattered more glass and mirrors, eliciting another round of screams from stylists and clients hiding behind stations and chairs. Sirens wailed in the distance but there wasn’t time to wait for law enforcement to rescue Priscilla.
He used two vanities as cover, but had to take the last few feet in the open. As he bent over and headed down the short hallway where he’d seen Priscilla go, something buzzed past his left upper arm, bringing with it a short burst of pain. Ignoring it, Luc pressed forward just in time to see Priscilla fling open a door marked Private.
Luc reached the opened door seconds after her and hurled himself inside. His heart pounded as he straightened and spotted the back exit door just closing. Catching the door before it closed, he burst through it into a narrow alleyway behind the strip mall with a large stand of trees opposite.
A quick look to the left showed nothing, but to the right, Priscilla had nearly reached the end of the alleyway. The sound of gunfire faded as sirens indicated first responders had reached the shopping center. Behind the strip mall, the stillness belied the chaos that had erupted on the other side of the buildings. Luc shook off the throbbing of his left arm and ran after her, catching up as she veered through the trees on a dirt path he hadn’t seen from the alleyway. Just inside the woods, she paused near a junction where the dirt trail connected with a wider paved one, panting with her hand on her side.
“Are you okay?” He struggled to control his own breathing, which came out in gasps.
She nodded. “Just winded.”
“Thank God.” Luc couldn’t quite process what had happened. “Someone was shooting into the salon.” He gently shook his head to dislodge more pieces of glass. Why would someone fire a gun into a hair salon on a slow Monday afternoon?
Priscilla pulled out her cell phone and punched in a number. “Shots fired. At the salon. Person we discussed earlier with me. We’re on the trail behind the shopping center.”
Luc almost didn’t catch her wording. A person she’d discussed earlier with who? He would have to figure out what she meant later, when he wasn’t winded from running from an active shooter. His left arm pulsated with pain as the adrenaline started to ebb.
For now, he kept his attention on Priscilla. Her breath hitched as she held the phone to her ear with a hand that shook.
Then a couple with two puppies straining at their leashes rounded the corner. Luc immediately moved to shield Priscilla from the strangers.
One of the puppies stopped to sniff Luc’s shoe. The man laughed as he tugged on the leash. “Sorry, he’s the overly friendly one.”
From the couple’s calm demeanor, they must not have heard the shots as they approached the shopping center from the rear path. Luc wasn’t about to enlighten them and murmured, “That’s okay,” as the man attempted to move the dog away from Luc.
The woman gasped as the puppy’s nose came up from the ground red. “You’re bleeding!”
Luc glanced at his upper arm. Blood he hadn’t noticed until now dripped down his sleeve and splashed onto the ground by his foot. He clamped his right hand over the wound. Sudden light-headedness washed over him, and he concentrated on breathing evenly to avoid passing out.
“Honey, call 911. That’s an awful lot of blood,” the woman said to her companion, who immediately whipped out his phone and punched in the numbers.
Luc started to agree, but one look at Priscilla’s face told him that she was not going to wait for an ambulance. She had already started to edge away to the right from the couple on the path, her voice low as she continued her conversation on the phone.
Although his arm ached and probably needed medical attention, Luc didn’t want to let her out of his sight again. Why hadn’t Priscilla panicked when the bullets started flying?
Now he had more questions that needed answers.
Priscilla had to tamp down her fear if she was to get out of this situation alive. She paced a few steps away from the couple and Mr. Long to talk quietly with Mac on her phone, her nerves jangling. She concentrated on slowing down her inhalation and exhalation.
“Was anyone hurt?” Mac snapped out the question. He had moved into crisis mode and she wasn’t about to let his briskness hurt her feelings.
“Yes, a bullet hit the upper left arm of Mr. Long. I don’t think it’s bleeding too bad. I don’t know if anyone was hit in the salon because I got out of there as fast as I could.” She sneaked a glance at Mr. Long, who had his right hand clamped on the wound.
“We need to get you out of there pronto. Your safety is top priority.” Mac’s reminder of the danger that still permeated the very air around her didn’t settle her nerves.
“Unfortunately,” Mac continued, “it could take me about thirty minutes to get to Fairfax. You can’t wait where you are. Still too close to the salon for my peace of mind.”
“My car’s in the parking lot near the salon.” Priscilla breathed in and out to the count of ten. Her brain kicked back into gear. “I only have my wallet.” She voiced her thoughts as she took in her surroundings. “And I have my phone. There’s a bus stop farther along this path. Hold on a minute.” She consulted the Next Bus app on her phone, then clicked back to Mac. “The Gold 1 Cue bus is due to arrive in less than ten minutes. Why don’t you text me where to get off once I board at the Daniels Run/Lee Highway stop?”
“Yes, got it.”
“See you soon.” She disconnected the call and eased a look over her shoulder. The woman handed her leash to her companion and drew out a bandanna from her back pocket to wrap around Mr. Long’s arm. It was time for Priscilla to move.
Priscilla stepped away without the group noticing. She didn’t want to abandon the man who had been shot on her account, but she also didn’t want to endanger him further, which she would if she stayed with him. The man who was after her would have no bones about shooting her and whoever she was with—of that she had no doubt. Priscilla took a bigger step and crunched a dry twig with her shoe.
“Hey, don’t leave!” Mr. Long extracted himself amid the woman’s protest that they had called for an ambulance.
“You should stay here, get help for your arm,” Priscilla said, then broke into a run down the path. Too much time had been wasted already. The shooter could be around the back of the building searching for her. He’d find the path easily enough. She had to be on the bus heading to Mac and safety.
A branch snapped behind her. She risked a glance to see Mr. Long, his face pale, jogging along the trail. He should be waiting for medical attention, not following her.
Ignoring