Through the door window, I risked another glance into the storefront, but the men were still busy with the cash register. My gaze kept going back to their massive fists. There was no way that I was a match for their strength. No, I needed a weapon if I had any chance of taking them down - I needed a knife.
I turned away from the door and ran back toward the storage room where Fletcher kept the extra vegetable knives, wondering if I could really do it, if I could really save Sophia, or if I'd end up being beaten to death along with her and the kid -
A soft thunk snapped me out of my memories.
One second, I was running through the restaurant on that night so long ago. The next, I was back in cooper's kitchen, the stench of Jo-Jo's blood saturating the air like the foulest sort of perfume.
cooper reached down and picked up something small and metal off the table. He held it up so we could all see the bloody bullet that he'd fished out of Jo-Jo's chest.
"One down," he murmured, setting it back down on the table. "One to go."
A few minutes later, another thunk sounded as cooper used his magic to pull the second bullet out of Jo-Jo.
"Now comes the hard part," he muttered.
cooper reached for even more of his Air magic, so much of it that a strong, steady breeze gusted through the kitchen, whipping up the sketches that he'd shoved onto the floor and whirling them around and around like a tornado. cooper let go of Jo-Jo's hand and held his palm up over her chest, right above the two bullet holes, his hand and fingers glowing a rich, warm bronze.
Slowly, very, very slowly, he started moving his hand back and forth over the wounds. And slowly, very, very slowly, the ugly black holes in Jo-Jo's skin started to pucker up and draw in on themselves. Several minutes later, her injuries had sealed up completely.
If Jo-Jo had been healing someone, his or her skin would have smoothed out, as though that person had never been shot in the first place. But the marks on Jo-Jo's chest remained red and puffy, like two large, angry blisters on her skin. cooper strained and strained with his magic, causing more and more Air currents to whip through the kitchen, but he couldn't get the wounds to fade out. Maybe he couldn't figure out how to do it, or maybe that level of finesse was simply beyond him.
Finally, cooper let go of his magic.
"There," he said, letting out a breath and wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead. "That's the best that I can do."
"Will she live?" I asked in a low voice.
He kept staring at her, exhaustion and uncertainty etching deep lines into his face. "I got the bullets out, but she lost a lot of blood, and there was a lot of damage inside her that I didn't know how to fix. That I was afraid to try to fix, in case I ended up making everything worse instead. So I don't know. I just . . . I don't know."
He stepped back and staggered as his feet went out from under him. He would have fallen to the floor if Phillip hadn't stepped forward and grabbed him. Roslyn hurried to take cooper's other arm, and together they led him into the den so he could sit down and rest. He'd used up all of his Air magic, all of his great dwarven strength, trying to heal Jo-Jo - and it still might not have been enough to save her.
Bria moved over and gave my arm a sympathetic
squeeze before following the others into the den, leaving me alone with Jo-Jo. Well, Rosco and me. The basset hound got to his feet, walked over, and plopped down
beside the table, guarding his mistress once again. Normally, the dog spent most of his time snoozing in his basket in the salon, only deigning to get up for treats and tummy rubs. I couldn't ever remember seeing him this active. Then again, this was anything but an ordinary day. In the den, the low murmur of voices sounded. No doubt Bria was filling cooper and Phillip in on what had happened at the salon.
I carefully took Jo-Jo's hand in mine. Normally, she had the softest, warmest, gentlest hands of any person I knew, but right now, her skin was cool and clammy to the touch. Still, her breathing came easily enough, her chest rising and falling in a slow but steady rhythm. I slid my fingers down against her wrist, searching for her pulse. It too was slow but steady. The tight, tense pain that had pinched her brow had vanished, and her features were slack and relaxed.
I leaned down and put my mouth close to her ear.
"You rest easy, sweetheart. Because now that you're safe, I'm going to go get Sophia back - and put Harley Grimes in the ground for good."
I didn't know if Jo-Jo could hear me or not, but I'd made my promise to her, and I was going to keep it, no matter what.
But I couldn't do it standing there waiting for her to wake up. She wouldn't want that anyway. No, she'd want me to go after Sophia as soon as I could.
So I leaned down and kissed Jo-Jo's bloody cheek, then left her behind.
Chapter Eight
Rosco stayed in the kitchen with Jo-Jo while I headed into the den. cooper was sprawled across a worn, sagging, brown-striped sofa that had seen better days. He must have run his hand through his hair again, because his salt-and-pepper locks were standing straight up over his forehead.
"She seems to be resting comfortably," I said. "Thank you."
cooper nodded, and some of the tension eased out of his body, making him sink even deeper into the couch cushions. He cared about Jo-Jo too. We all did.
The patio door opened, and Roslyn stepped inside, holding a glass of iced tea. She must have poured it from the pitcher that had been left on the table outside. She handed the drink to cooper, and he slugged it down in one long swallow. He set the glass on an end table next to his elbow and leaned back against the couch once more.
"Now what?" Phillip asked, standing in front of the TV.
"Now I go get Sophia back."
He nodded. "Bria said Harley Grimes and Jo-Jo know each other?"
"Yeah," I said. "He, Sophia, and Jo-Jo have a history together. If you could call it that."
"What sort of history?" cooper asked.
"Grimes kidnapped Sophia years ago. He beat her, tortured her with his Fire magic - including ruining her voice - and then did a whole lot of other unspeakable things to her before Jo-Jo hired Fletcher to rescue Sophia.
And when Fletcher did, he made sure that Grimes knew that if he ever bothered Sophia and Jo-Jo again, he would wish he hadn't."
"But Fletcher's dead," Bria pointed out.
"I know. Grimes must have found out about his death and figured that the coast was clear. That's why he came to the salon today, and that's why he took Sophia again."
No one spoke for a moment.
"I've heard of Grimes," Phillip said. "Lives up on some mountain above Ashland, along with a bunch of his men."