He patted his chest with his hands. “No bullet holes. Just a racing heartbeat.”

I was huffing and puffing. “All right.” Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. “Okay. We’re about five minutes from the station. Once we file the report, it’s going to take a while. There’ll be lots of questions. Are you up for it?”

He exhaled hard. “I think, yes.”

I waited a few moments, trying to anticipate what was going to happen. I didn’t like the setup I was seeing. I swallowed hard. “Koby, if it goes down that you fired my gun, it’ll be bad for both of us, especially if you hit someone.”

“It was self-defense.”

“Yes, exactly, and once they see the car, it won’t be a problem. But there are much stricter regulations about a civilian discharging a weapon than a cop.” I looked him in the eye. “There’s no way I’m going to let you handle that kind of heat. You drove, I shot. It’s your car. It makes more sense anyway.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“Yes, you’re right. It’s a lie. They will have me sign an affidavit and I will perjure myself. I want you to do the same thing. If you hit someone fatally, I will take responsibility—”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“Listen to me!” I held his face. “Please, please listen to me! Please don’t argue. Okay?”

He didn’t give me the satisfaction of an immediate answer. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because I was rash.”

“Yaakov, you weren’t rash. You saved our lives! Just … just trust me on this! Please!”

We were both breathing hard. Finally, he relented. “Whatever you … you think.”

“That’s what I think.”

He nodded. “Okay … okay. I drove and you shot. Except that I smell of gunpowder and you do not.”

Gunshot tattooing. It was unlikely that they’d check my hand, even more unlikely that they’d check his hand, but just in case, I took the gun from him, rolled down the window, and fired off a couple of shots. “When we get into the police station, go to the bathroom. Wash your hands with lots of soap and go clear up to your elbows if no one’s watching you.”

He nodded. “So I just tell them what happened or …”

“Tell them exactly what happened, except you were driving and I did the shooting.”

“That the car was following us and you wanted the license number?”

“Yes. And I tried to call for backup, for help, but my cell was dead. And you didn’t have yours because you didn’t want the intrusion. Just stick to the facts.”

“Except that I was driving.”

“Exactly.” I blew out air. “Yaakov, I’m so sorry—”

Before I could continue, he grabbed my neck and kissed my mouth—long, slow, and hard. “We’re whole, Cynthia. Nothing … nothing else matters. I say ‘meqseft yasferawal’ in Amharic, I say ‘Gomel’ in Hebrew at beit knesset on Saturday, and in English I say ‘thank you, Hashem, for saving us from catastrophe.’ God has choice of languages. Now let’s get out of here.”