“Tarn?”
He doesn’t answer. I climb into the other seat in the booth, lean across the table to touch his neck, feeling for a pulse or a breath or something, he can’t be dead, someone like him, too damn bigto die…
There, I feel it, a slight but steady throb just above his Adam’s apple. He stirs slightly when my fingers brush against his hand. He’s still alive, but I’m not sure for how long—how much of this blood is his? What about the rest of the men? And where’s Coby?
“Delia needs to get down here,” I mumble to no one in particular as I extract myself from the booth. When the regulator on the floor reaches for me, I skip away from his hand, into the center of the room, turning so I can keep an eye on the whole place. I don’t want anyone else touching me. “She’s needed here. She can stitch these men back together, I can’t do this alone.”
Raising my voice, I call out, “Coby?” I’ll get her as soon as I find him—