She opened her eyes. “We did it, didn’t we? We caught the bad guys.”
“Yes. Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” His voice was lower than normal, and full of agony as he gently scooped her close to him with his free hand, the other still pressing hard near her collarbone.
“Don’t be sorry.” She pressed her nose to his throat. A nice sort of numbness was taking over. “I’m tired now.”
“No, don’t close your eyes. Talk to me. Angie, talk to me.” He hugged her tight and she sucked in a sharp breath as pain speared through her unexpectedly, reminding her fuzzy brain she had been hurt.
“Sam? Can you…call me baby again?”
“Baby,” he said. “Now stay awake if you want to hear me say it again.”
She smiled and drifted nicely on that for a while.
“Where’s the damn ambulance?” Sam shouted above her in the scary-cop voice.
Wasn’t that just like him. Hiding his fear with a shout. “I’m okay.”
“Don’t talk,” he demanded, then proceeded to yell orders at everyone around them.
“I just can’t believe it was Ellie and George.” Knowing that hurt almost as much as her body did.
“I know.” He pressed his mouth to her temple. “You were so damn brave, Angie.”
He thought she was brave.
His mouth was bleeding and he had a cut over one eye. From his tussle with George, she realized. His shirt was ripped, and she thought maybe he’d never looked more…
He looked down at her, at some thing below her neck, and paled. “Angie.”
“I want to marry you,” she said dreamily, picturing it in her head. “And have a son just like you.”
“Just be still,” he begged, looking terrified. “Don’t move.”
She figured it was the marriage thing that made him so pale. “I scare you, I know.”
“You’re scaring the hell out of me,” he agreed, his hands holding her still when she tried to sit up. “Now shut up. Can you do that while I try to get your bleeding under control?”
Oh, yeah. She’d been shot. She lifted her head, forced her eyes to focus and took a peek. “Oh…my.” Her entire torso was awfully red. Bright red. Her stomach rolled. “Is that…blood?”
Then she passed out before she could hear the answer.
Chapter 14
Sam was already on his knees or he’d have fallen to them and prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in anymore.
Instead, he continued applying pressure to Angie’s wound in spite of her moan of pain. “Don’t move,” he demanded, burying his face in her hair. “Hold on. You’ve just got to hold on.”
Luke hunkered at their side. “The ambulance is nearly here, sweetie,” he said to Angie. “Just take it easy for a moment, okay?”
She didn’t respond and Sam nearly had a coronary. “Angie? Talk to me.”
Nothing.
Bending closer, he rubbed his jaw to hers. “I love you, Angie. Please open your eyes.”
Her eyes remained closed. Lifeless. “Damn it, where is that ambulance?” he shouted.
“Here.” A medic appeared at his side, reached for her.
They started an IV and prepped a gurney while Sam sat there, gripping Angie’s lifeless hand in his, unable to take his eyes off her.
“She’ll make it,” Luke said.
He nodded, because anything else was unacceptable. He could hardly bear to look at her. It used to be he could hardly look at her because she was so happy, so full of life, so joyous she hurt him just by being.
Now it killed him to look at her so still, so pale, but he forced himself as they loaded her up, forced himself to keep his eyes on her as they left the office.
On the sidewalk outside, Ellie and George were being loaded into separate police cars.
George hesitated, looking down at Angie with sorrow. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“You got what you deserved,” Ellie said, her eyes cold as ice.
“So will you,” Sam promised.
For a moment, her detachment vanished. “You can’t prove anything.”
“We can prove everything,” Sam told her before turning away to watch Angie being loaded into the ambulance. He started to climb in after her, only to be stopped by a medic who looked barely old enough to vote.
“Sorry, sir.” The kid, a good eight inches shorter and nothing but a slim beanpole, swallowed hard. “You’ll have to catch another ride.”
“Move aside.”
“Sir, you can’t-”
“Bullsh-”
“I’ll drive you,” Luke said, hauling Sam back. “We’ll get there just as fast, trust me.”
Sam took one last glance at the closing doors on the ambulance and nodded.
The first time Angie opened her eyes, the overhead light hurt her eyes. Her body hurt, too; in fact, it felt as if a Mack truck had hit it. It was no problem at all to let sleep claim her again.
The next time she woke, the light had been turned to dim. Confused, she blinked and saw that the room around her was white.
She was in a hospital bed.
Slumped in a chair by her side was Sam, his arms folded on the side of her bed at her hip, his head down, his shoulders rising and falling evenly with his slow, deep breathing.
She stared at him for a long, long time, the steady cadence of his breathing in credibly soothing, until the wooziness overtook her again.
When Angie woke up for the third time, the wooziness was gone.
The pain was not.
She forced her eyes open anyway and dealt with the familiar, horribly bright light. The chair was still at her side, and though Sam’s clothes were different, he once again slept.
His jaw was dark, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he looked so exhausted, so uncharacteristically ruffled, and so breath taking she wanted to cry.
Then he stretched, lifted his head and saw her watching him. His eyes were no longer tired, but suddenly intent and solemn.
Then she no longer wanted to cry, she
She braced for the regret, the anger, but it didn’t come. Yes, she’d fallen hard for him, but she’d done so with her eyes wide open. She’d do it again.
But this was going to hurt more than being shot. “Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi,” he whispered back.
A chair scraped the floor, and then another. Then a short gasp. Suddenly four additional heads appeared near Sam’s.
Luke first, looking equally scruffy, but his eyes were twinkling with relief and a smile. “Hey, look at that. Sleeping Beauty is up.”
Josephine’s head popped into her vision next. “Oh, honey, you gave me gray hairs.”
Then there were Angie’s parents, looking at her as they always did-a little baffled, a little un certain, but both clearly moved by the sight of her.
“You’re going to be fine,” her father said with his characteristic inability to deal with things going any other way.
“Of course she is,” her mother said, as always in complete agreement with her father, unless of course, his opinion differed from her own, which only happened every other moment. “And you’re going to be quick about it.
