“Good.” Adam sounded the complete opposite of the way Rune looked: calm, firm, sure.

“Use this!” Rune dragged a velvet scarf from around her waist.

Elle plucked the scarf from Rune’s trembling hands and wiped at Adam’s wound. She grimaced at the slippery, shiny material and, thankful Angelica had given her a bra, pulled her T-shirt over her head. With a wistful sigh of regret, she pressed the lemon cotton to Adam’s wound.

He looked appreciatively at her.

Yeah, to hell with death.

Rune pulled her phone from her pocket, tapped in 9-1-1 and spoke frantically. “A gunshot! Into my shop in Gothic! I’m Madame Rune. Yes, I’m sure it was a gunshot. The window shattered. Yes, someone was hit! We need medical attention ASAP. This is Madame Rune. Send cops. Send EMTs!”

Elle plucked the phone from Rune’s fingers. “Madame Rune is injured. Send help quickly.” She ended the call.

“I’m injured?” Rune lifted a hand and touched her cheek. “My God, I’m bleeding! Was I shot?”

“You have a shard of glass embedded in your cheek. And one in your forehead. Maybe more.” Elle caught Rune’s hand. “Don’t touch. Right now, the glass is stanching most of the bleeding.”

“Right.” Rune was wild-eyed. “Someone shot at me!”

Elle looked her over thoroughly. “They didn’t hit you. Why did you fall?”

“The bullet caught my hair.” Rune showed her a short hank of hair with shriveled ends. “My hair! Why would someone shoot my hair? The force of the bullet knocked me off my feet, and my scalp—” she touched her head, looked at her fingers “—it’s bleeding, too!”

“When you were looking out the window, did you see anything or anybody?” Adam asked.

“No.” Rune seemed to catch fire. “Those damned illegal hunters in their stupid camouflage!”

“I doubt it was a hunter,” Adam said. “A single shot through a window that came very close to blowing your head off—” Rune moaned in fright “—and wounded me indicates either a high degree of luck or amazing accuracy. We need to move.”

“Move? We’ll be exposed!” Rune was frantic.

“We need to get out of sight, somewhere the sniper can’t target us.”

“A sniper? You think it’s a sniper?” Rune gestured toward the shattered window and banged her knuckles on the top of the table.

“A sniper,” Elle repeated faintly. “I never thought...”

“A definite possibility. If it is a sniper, either a mercenary who needs the kill to be paid or someone with a grudge, well...if his target isn’t in view, he might switch to a semiautomatic and spray bullets into the room.” Considering Adam was discussing their imminent demise, he continued unruffled. “The table won’t protect us. Elle?” He indicated Rune.

Rune had her hand to her chest while she breathed in great gulps.