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"I'm fine," she lied. "Why are you angry with me?" |
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He didn't answer at first, and D.J. smiled to herself. He'd never figured her for a sensitive soul, able to uncover the hidden agendas in a person's voice. Two days ago she'd have agreed. But Josie and McCall had done wonders for her powers of perception. |
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"You didn't tell me you'd been shot. You just drove off like a madwoman. Why, D.J.?" |
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"Why didn't I tell you? Or why did I let myself get shot?" |
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"Good, because I have the same answer to both questions." D.J. opened her eyes and turned on her uninjured side. McCall's eyes shone bright in his still, pale face. "I didn't know. I never felt a thing. And even if I had, what difference would knowing have made? I could still function. We had to get out of there." |
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"Why? Because you insist on taking the blame for everything? I'm the professional here, McCall. I'm the one who's supposed to be protecting you. I did my job. Getting shot is one of the hazards of being a cop. I'll admit, I don't like it much. But this is my own fault. I wasn't careful enough. Don't take my stupidity onto your conscience, as well as everything else." |
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If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she never would have seen his withdrawal. He tensed; then his shoulders drew inward just a bit, though not enough to see if she hadn't been waiting for it. Yes, he was angry with her for getting shot, and |
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