Salt Kiss – Episode 23
The photograph of Tristan sleeping destroyed any illusion that the threat belonged only to Mark. Someone had entered his room without waking him, stood close enough to take the picture, and left no trace he had noticed.
He searched the room twice, anger sharpening into self-reproach. A bodyguard who could not secure his own quarters had no right protecting anyone else.
Mark found him dismantling the vent cover. “This is not your failure.”
“They got within six feet of me.” Tristan examined every screw for disturbance. “If they wanted me dead, I would be.”
“They wanted you frightened.”
“Then they miscalculated.” Tristan rose. “Move your things. We’re leaving the club until I control the perimeter.”
They used an underground exit and an unmarked vehicle. Tristan changed routes repeatedly, watching mirrors for pursuit while Mark made calls from the back seat.
A motorcycle appeared three turns later and stayed with them through every change. Tristan accelerated, but a second vehicle blocked the intersection ahead.
Gunfire shattered the rear window. Tristan forced the car through the narrowing gap, using the larger vehicle as cover while glass rained across the seats.
“Down!” he shouted. Mark obeyed, then saw the motorcycle drawing alongside Tristan’s door.
The rider raised a weapon. Before Tristan could evade, Mark pulled him sideways. The shot tore through the door where Tristan’s chest had been.
The car struck the motorcycle and sent it skidding away. Tristan regained control, drove through the blockade, and did not stop until they reached a secure garage.
Only then did he see blood darkening Mark’s sleeve. A shard of glass had cut deeply when Mark dragged him from the bullet’s path.
“You’re injured.” Tristan’s voice changed, fear breaking through his training.
“You’re alive,” Mark answered, as if that settled the matter.
Tristan pressed cloth against the wound and called the private physician. His hands stayed steady, but the thought of losing Mark made the garage tilt around him.
Mark touched his face with his uninjured hand. “Now you understand why I wouldn’t remain behind that door.”
Tristan wanted to argue. Instead, he held pressure on the wound and realized the truth was already beyond denial: protecting Mark was no longer merely employment. It had become personal enough to terrify them both.