From where he stood, he looked for Hayley and Finn. He couldn’t spot them and felt helpless. The adrenaline was also wearing off and his stomach pitched.
Then somebody touched his shoulder. He turned and was unprepared for the barrage of people with cameras and microphones descending upon him.
* * *
“Paul, this is Hayley. Finn and I weren’t hurt at the gala. Please call me no matter what time you get this. I have to know you’re safe.”
She’d called twice before: once when she and Finn found their waiting limo and crawled through Madison Avenue traffic, and once an hour ago after she arrived home. Now, at midnight, he still hadn’t answered.
Finn came to the doorway of his suite. “Come see this, Hayley. There’s a news report on TV.” They’d already heard on the set in the living room that miraculously no one was killed, ten people had been injured in the crowd fighting its way out, five were shot from ricocheted bullets, but they weren’t releasing any names. Visions of Paul, trampled or bleeding, plagued her as she hurried into Finn’s sitting room.
A newscaster gave information. He described the attack, which was maddeningly repetitive. “They keep giving the same statistics we already know.”
“Hold on, there’s supposed to be more.”
“We have confirmation of the rumor that a civilian tackled the gunman at the doorway on the left side of the ballroom. However, his identity has not been revealed.”
“That’s more.” Hayley began to pace. “The chances that Paul was the hero are miniscule, right, Finn?”
“Given that two hundred people attended, add in staff for the establishment, and yes, I’d say it’s small.” Finn studied a diagram the station had put up. “The shooter came in the side entrance that the servers used. So more than likely, staff disarmed him. Not that I don’t want them to be safe, but again the chances of Paul being on that side are slim.”
“I wish I’d hear from him.”
They both settled in chairs in the sitting room, watching the broadcast, until Hayley stood up. “I can’t stand this anymore. I’m going to shower and change.” She’d reached the door when she heard, “The identity of the gunman is being released in a press conference. We go live to the Central Park Ballroom.”
Hayley pivoted. Watched the TV from the doorway. “I’m Police Chief Gregory Thomas. Here’s what happened. When the gunman first entered the ballroom, he shot at the ceiling, presumably to get everybody’s attention. Before he could rob anyone, he was tackled by civilian Paul Covington, a local lawyer at the firm Cook, Cramer and Cromwell. Covington was twenty feet away, and defused the situation by taking the gunman down from behind. Police arrived while they were still on the floor and took control of the scene. There’s no information on Mr. Covington’s condition.”
Hayley wilted into a chair by the door. Unbelievable.
Rising, Finn came over to her. Squatted down. “You all right?”
“God. This is worse. What if he was hurt, or shot, or dead?”
“Don’t go there. They reported no deaths. Why don’t you change? I’ll keep an eye on the TV to see if there’s any more news.”
Not wanting to leave, but unable to stay and listen to nothing new, she left the room, and crossed into her own suite on the other side of the kitchen. She sat down onto the bed, smoothing over the covers. Would she ever get to make love with Paul in this bed? Would they get to go out on the boat again? Had they been foolish to end their relationship before it got started?
Driven crazy by her rumination, Hayley went to the bathroom, stripped and tied up her hair. She stepped under the hot spray coming from three nozzles and worried. After the shower, she dressed in simple pajamas and left the room.
Just as the buzzer from the concierge rang. Hayley flew to it. “Yes, Robert?”
“Mr. Covington to see Ms. Casella.” More quietly, he added, “I wouldn’t have called so late, but I think he’s the man who saved all those people at that big party you were at.”
“Yes, yes, send him up. Please.” She flung the front door open.
Finn had come out of his suite. “Do you want me to disappear?”
“For a bit, if you don’t mind.”
“No worries. I’m happy he’s all right.”
The elevator opened. She ran to it. He’d just stepped into the hall when she threw herself at him. He caught her and held her close. She hugged him tight. He held on, too, circling her back with his hand. “Shh, baby, I’m safe, and unhurt, except for a few bruises and sore muscles.”
Finally, she was able to ease herself back, she kept hold of his hands. Exhaustion showed in every feature of his face and his shoulders slumped. He’d taken off his tux coat, and his pants were ripped. “Why didn’t you call me? Let me know how you were?”
“When I finally could, your inbox was full.”
“Damn, I never thought to check that.”
She hugged him again, unable to bear the thought of what he’d been through. When someone from another apartment started down the hall, he said, “Let’s go inside.”
Leading him by one hand, she went down to the apartment and he followed her silently. They went to her suite where she shut the door and closed out the world. He faced her. Lowered his head. And kissed her. It wasn’t gentle, Hayley thought, but it was exactly what she needed. Then he ended the kiss and drew back.
He stripped off his clothes, let them fall to the floor. Then he sat on the edge of her