Page 92 of Keeping Knight

“Ruby,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Get my phone out of my pocket. Start recording.”

“Wha—what?” She shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear it. “Your phone?” A beat later, she jolts. “Oh! Nine-one-one! I’m sorry!”

“No.” As soon as she has my phone, I catch her hand. “The police are later. First—” My voice dips dangerously. “We’re getting a confession.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Henry bleats. “I⁠—”

But he can’t talk anymore, because my arm is digging into his trachea. “Ruby. Turn on the recorder,” I say. “Then I want you to put the phone on the floor and go into the closet. I don’t want you seeing this.”

Because I’ll do whatever it takes to get his confession. And if Ruby weren’t here, I might actually kill him.

The thought flits through my mind, brief but tempting.

I could kill him. It would be self-defense. He forced his way into my condo, disguised as a firefighter, no less. He held my girlfriend at gunpoint. He shot me. I would have every right to use deadly force to defend myself.

Except Ruby’s here. And I don’t want her to be a part of it.

“No.” Ruby yanks off her shirt, so she’s left wearing only a bra. Then she folds the fabric into a square and presses it against my chest. Pain flares, and I grit my teeth to keep from reacting. “I’m staying here. With you.”

I don’t like it. But I’m not going to argue with her right now. Instead, I turn my attention back to Henry. Pinning him with a murderous glare, I snarl, “Tell me about attacking Ruby in her apartment. And don’t leave out anything.”

And he does. With a little creative convincing.

By the time we get to his plot to frame Haverford by hacking the security camera and adding an AI-generated video with the building manager’s face superimposed over his own, I’m feeling a little woozy from blood loss. But I keep at it, determined to at least get a full confession from this asshole if I can’t kill him.

Just as Henry is telling me about planting the photos of Ruby on Haverford’s computer, Rogue says, “Shit, Micah. What the fuck happened?” Then he turns to speak to someone in the hallway. “Tango restrained. Knight took a hit. I need you in here now.”

“He shot Micah,” Ruby blurts. Her voice is thick with tears. “There’s so much blood. Please⁠—”

Rogue rushes over to us. His gaze meets mine. “Shit. How bad?”

“It’s fine,” I say.

“It’s not fine!” Ruby interrupts. Her voice cracks. “You’re bleeding all over. You need to go to the hospital!”

“Move,” Rogue tells me. Then he nudges me to the side. “I’ve got this piece of shit. Get yourself looked at.”

Then he glances over his shoulder and starts firing off commands. “Cole. Check Knight. Looks like a through and through, upper-left quadrant. No arteries hit that I can tell. Jester. Get Ruby. Bring her into the other room and triage her.”

I try to stand, but my head swims, and I have to sit back down. “Cole?” I ask as I see my old Army buddy hurry into the room. “Am I hallucinating? What are you doing here?”

Cole kneels beside me and flashes me a quick smile. “I was meeting with a client and thought I’d stop in for a visit. I wasn’t expecting all this excitement.”

“I asked him to come along in case we needed medical attention,” Jester explains. “Clearly, my instinct was right.” Then he puts his arm around Ruby’s shoulders and gently adds, “Come on, honey. Let’s give these guys some space. Knight’s going to be okay.”

Ruby tugs away from him. “No. I’m not leaving Micah.” Then she scowls at Cole. “And who are you? Do you have medical training? Micah needs paramedics. Doctors. He—” Her face crumples, and she casts a desperate look at Rogue. “Please. Help him.”

“Rue,” I start. But my tongue feels too thick to continue.

Cole pushes me back to the floor. “Guess you’re getting slow in your old age,” he teases. “The old Knight would have ducked faster.”

“This is Cole Mitchell,” Rogue tells Ruby. “We used to serve together. He runs an outfit up in Sleepy Hollow. Security, investigations, that kind of thing. Cole’s a medic. He’ll take care of Knight until the paramedics get up here.”

“Get the rest of his confession,” I insist. But I sound drunk as I say it. “We’re recording. On my phone. Get his confession before you bring in the police.”

“Micah.” Ruby clutches my hand. Her face is wet with tears. “Don’t worry about that. Just… just be okay. Please.”

Jester comes over to pat my shoulder. “We’ve got it. We can take care of it from here.”