Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

needn’t worry about me.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with worrying about another person’s welfare.”
    “That depends entirely on the other person,” he said, his trademark smirk back in place. “That filth from this evening deserves nothing more than contempt.”
    He appraised her for a moment, then strode to the alleyway door. “I’m sure my men will find him. Eventually.”
    He turned back to her, any trace of the incident was washed away from his expression, and he walked toward the bar.
    Elizabeth reached out and touched his arm again. “Thank you.”
    He looked down at her hand and she thought he was going to tell her to let go. When he raised his eyes, his cold exterior was flushed with humanity, as if no one had ever genuinely thanked him for anything. It was only the barest of glimpses, but she saw another side to King in that moment. A mere second’s exposure of his soul. A flicker of need that belied the stonework façade.
    As quickly as it had appeared, the glimmer of something more receded into the darkness of his eyes. “Good night, Mrs. Cross.”
    * * *
    Simon closed the door to their apartment and turned impatiently to Elizabeth. She’d told him about the attempted robbery, but she was clearly holding something back. What could be worse than almost being shot? His stomach lurched. He didn’t dare follow that thought to its natural conclusion. “All right, we’re home. Are you going to tell me what really happened or not?”
    She sighed, as she turned on the light. “First things first. I’m okay.”
    His natural frown deepened. Any discussion that began with an assurance that she was all right was not going to be one he enjoyed. “Go on.”
    “Well, you could be a little happier about that part.”
    He was already impatient and her delaying tactics were only pushing him closer to the edge. “Elizabeth...”
    “Maybe I’m imagining things.”
    “Would you please—”
    “I know, it’s just...I’m not even sure I saw what I saw. Does that make any sense?”
    “At the moment you’re not making any sense at all.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Almost getting killed sort of threw me.”
    He forced himself to try and relax. Bludgeoning her wasn’t going to help, but how could she expect him to be calm? She’d been white as a sheet when he’d come back from taking Frank home. In typical form, she’d downplayed the incident, as if aggravated assault was nothing more than an annoyance. As absurd as it was, he could live with that. She’d been spared. Thank God, she had. It was the secret she’d kept, insisted on keeping till they were home. He sighed in frustration.
    “I know,” she said with sad resignation. “I’m just a little frazzled.”
    She wrapped her arms around her chest. He crossed the room and took her into his arms, kissing the crown of her head. Eventually, she pulled out of his embrace and sat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Charlie and Dix. But... when the man fired the gun, I swear King was hit.”
    “Wouldn’t it be rather obvious if he had?” he said, taking a seat next to her.
    “You’d think so. He says he wasn’t,” she said, her eyes filling with insistent fire. “I’m sure he was.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I’m not sure I do either. He pushed me out of the way, and then there was this sound. This whoomp, and no ricochet. If it had missed I would have heard it hit the crates or the wall. Something.”
    Simon gave in to the need to touch her again and took her hand, but even that couldn’t assuage the growing sense of dread in his chest. Did they have bullet proof vests now? Most likely not. “It all happened so quickly, you could have missed it.”
    “Maybe. But he had this little hole in his waist coat. And the way he acted. He was in pain, I know he was. It didn’t last long, maybe a minute, then he was normal again. Well, normal for King.”
    She squeezed Simon’s hand and the fear she’d kept at bay glistened in her eyes. “Sometimes when he’s looking at me, there’s something in his eyes.”
    Simon tried to quell the surge of possessive jealousy that shot through his veins. Apparently, he did a poor job of it because Elizabeth shook her head. “Not like that,” she continued. “Well, sometimes like that, but there’s something not right, something shadowed.”
    The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but he wasn’t going to give in. Elizabeth needed assurances, not more to