Street Dreams by Faye Kellerman

about it, Peter. All I want to say is …” A sigh. “I know you weren’t alone.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means I know who you were with.”
    Abruptly, Decker sat up, knocking her head off his chest. He encircled his knees with his arms and stared straight ahead.
     “I was with Jonathan.”
    “But we both know there was someone else—”
    “Have you been talking to my brother?”
    Anger in his voice. Rina said, “Do you honestly think Randy would betray a confidence?”
    Decker continued to direct his gaze at nothing. He didn’t speak.
    “I saw Donatti in New York, Peter. He was following me—”
    “What!”
    “Can you lower your voice?”
    “He was
what?”
    “It wasn’t like it sounds.”
    “That
motherfuc—”
    “Peter,
shhhh!”
    “That is it!” He sprang out of bed, threw on his robe, and began to pace. “I’m going to
kill
him—which is what I should have done in the first place.”
    “Are you going to rant or do you want to hear what I have to say?”
    He suddenly turned against her. “And
now
you’re telling me.” His voice was rife with hostility. “Any particular reason for keeping
me
in the dark?”
    “Yes, I had my reasons. And I will tell them to you if you’d like to listen.”
    Decker glared at her. He was glad that it was dark so she couldn’t see how furious he was. “What’d the bastard do? Come on
     to you?”
    “Yes, he tried to intimidate me—”
    “That
motherfucking son-of-a-bitch bastard!
I will strangle him with my own—”
    “Peter, he took a bullet for me.”
    He barely heard her above his own tirade, but he did hear her. In the sudden stillness, he realized he was panting heavily.
     Sweat was pouring off his forehead. The image materialized in his brain—a shadow lifting up his shirt … the bandage around
     his ribs.
    Now we’re twins.
    “What
did you say?” His voice was softer now.
    “I said, I think he took a bullet for me.”
    He sat down beside her, his hands shaking. “You
think?”
    “It happened so fast. He’d been following me, although I hadn’t noticed it. The next thing I knew, I was pressed against the
     hood of a car and he was on top of me, bleeding from a gunshot wound. I know you hate him. And I’m sure you have every right
     to hate him. I hate him, too. But even reprehensible people can do noble acts.”
    Decker was still breathing hard. “How do you know the bullet was for you? It could have been meant for him, you know.”
    “Perfectly true. I’m sure he has scores of enemies. But at the time, you had enemies, too. He acted quickly, Peter. It was
     strictly by instinct. And now it’s over … all of it. So I guess we’ll never find out.”
    Again the room fell silent.
    Rina said, “Come back to bed. It’s only five. You can still catch a couple of hours of sleep.”
    He let out an absurd laugh. Sleep was elusive under optimal conditions. Under these circumstances, it was damn nigh impossible.
     He longed to be next to his wife, to feel her body against his clammy skin. Still, he resisted, trembling like a leaf in the
     wind.
    She held out the covers. “C’mon, soldier. Life is short. Don’t be mad.”
    “I’m not mad.” He hesitated, then quickly slipped under the welcoming duvet, trying to calm his nerves as adrenaline shot
     through his body. “I’m just … shocked. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” He turned to her. “Why
didn’t
you tell me?”
    “Because a family was in distress. I thought it would have been a distraction. It was a judgment call. If I made the wrong
     decision, sue me.”
    Decker slumped against the pillow. “Now here’s a sobering thought. I compromised your life by dragging you along. And that
     bastard saves you.” His laugh was bitter. “God almighty, I actually owe the son of a bitch!”
    “I’m sure he evened the score in the warehouse. So consider the slate cleaned.”
    Again he laughed—hard and angry. Suddenly tears welled up in Decker’s eyes. Before