Ken held out one steady hand for the briefcase. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were hard. “I told you to open it,” he said in a low voice. “You took three seconds too long, Mindy.” The room felt colder the moment he spoke. Even after everything she had seen, he still knew how to make fear move through the air.
Mindy swallowed and looked at the hand waiting for the case. Something felt wrong. She lifted her eyes to his face, then to his shoulder. The black fabric of his shirt was darker there, soaked and sticking to his skin. Fresh blood. The patch was growing wider every second.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered.
For one moment, she forgot the briefcase completely. She stepped closer and reached toward his shoulder without thinking. Ken moved fast and caught her wrist before her finge
