to the forefront of his mind. “Floor it, Danny. They’re going to need us.”
But it was too late. Eddie and his guys listened in utter shock and horror to the firefight blasted over a keyed radio mic. One of O’Halloran’s team members must have clipped his radio with the butt of his rifle. The uninterrupted transmission of gunshots played out as Eddie and his team raced to the scene of the bank.
The SUV had barely slowed to a stop before Eddie hopped out and rushed to the incident command truck. Their captain’s face was beet red as he listened to the clusterfuck of a response happening inside the bank. Heads were going to roll after this one.
Just as quickly as the firefight started, it came to an abrupt stop. Eddie heard O’Halloran’s team clearing the building and confirming the robbers were all either dead or wounded but secured. “We’ve got three civilians wounded. Need EMS ASAP.”
“Son of a bitch!” Captain Diaz looked to Eddie. “Get in there. Get the hostages out. Get EMS in.”
Eddie nodded and motioned to his guys. “Craig, Kevin, wait here for EMS. The rest of you with me.
They rushed to the front of the bank and entered the ruined interior. It looked like something out of a war zone. Acrid smoke irritated his lungs. The busted-out glass of the front doors and windows let in fresh air so the room was clearing fast. A pair of gunmen writhed on the ground. They’d suffered gunshot wounds to the chest and arms. Hostages sobbed as they skittered out of the lobby accompanied by SWAT. They slid on glass and tripped over chunks of roofing tile.
“Christ!” Eddie shook his head. This was exactly the kind of bullshit Rambo-wannabe response that put innocent lives at risk and got officers killed. His jaw clenched. O’Halloran had to go.
“Oh, fuck.” Danny’s distraught voice echoed in the lobby. “Here’s a fourth civilian. She’s hurt real bad.”
Eddie glanced over to his rookie team member and watched as he dragged a dead robber off another person. There was a wounded civilian pinned underneath, so he started over to help. His gaze drifted to the orange pumps on the victim’s feet. They seemed so familiar. God, he really needed to quit reading over Whitney’s shoulder. All those fashion magazines were finally starting to take over his head.
And that dress, he thought, as the brown and pink and burnt-orange paisley print came into view. He’d seen that dress somewhere.
Danny crouched down next to the female victim and looked up at Eddie with pain in his eyes. “Oh hell, boss. It’s your girl.”
Eddie stumbled over his feet as Danny’s words registered. His gaze snapped to the woman’s face. Bloody and bruised, but there was no mistaking her. “Whitney!”
Eddie fell to his knees beside her battered body and gathered her into his arms. She breathed raggedly and was only just conscious. Blood seeped from the wounds in her belly, chest, and shoulder.
“Boss, lay her out flat.” Danny’s take-charge voice snapped Eddie out of his panic. Danny immediately put his hands on the shoulder and chest wound and pressed hard. “We need EMS.
Eddie put his hand on the gushing belly wound and added pressure. “Whitney, sugar, can you hear me?”
“Eddie,” she whispered, her eyes wide and lips ghostly pale. “They sh-sh-shot me.”
“I know, sweetheart, but we’re going to get you all better, okay? Just hang on, sugar.”
Craig skidded in next to them and dropped an emergency kit. “EMS is a minute or two out.” He ripped open trauma dressing packages and tossed them onto Whitney’s body. Eddie grabbed one and pushed it against her belly. Danny did the same with two others.
“Old man,” Whitney said, her shaking hand trying to point somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder. “Tried to help me. Gun butt to the head.”
“Okay, sugar,” Eddie said. “We’ll make sure someone gets to him.” Eddie glanced over his shoulder and saw one of O’Halloran’s guys dealing with an elderly man. “He’s okay,” Eddie assured Whitney.
Her teeth chattered. “Co-co-cold.”
Eddie’s heart clenched. He knew shock when he saw it. There was just so much blood. It pooled around her body, soaking her silky blonde hair and turning her dress a shocking maroon color. “We’ll get you warm as soon as we get you in an ambulance.”
“Sleepy,” she murmured, her eyelids drifting together.
“No! No, Whitney.” Eddie stroked her face with his blood-stained fingers. “Stay awake, honey. I need to you to focus on me and stay awake, all right?”
“Ca-ca-can’t,” Whitney replied so softly he barely heard her. “Tired.”
The wail of ambulance sirens lowered Eddie’s skyrocketing blood pressure a few degrees. Help had arrived. A pair of medics rushed in with a jump bag and dropped down beside Eddie and Danny. Craig backed away to give them room. Eddie reluctantly turned over care of Whitney to the female medic and her male partner.
He held Whitney’s disturbingly cold hand and looked into her eyes. Her lips started to move as if she was trying to tell him something. He couldn’t make out the words. Her eyes flashed with such seriousness. Whatever it was, she was desperate for him to understand.
The exertion took its toll. She coughed loudly a few times and then gurgled. Eddie’s heart skipped a few beats as he watched frothy blood bubbles dribble from the corners of her mouth. He sat back on his heels, paralyzed with horror as the medics suctioned bloody fluid from her mouth and intubated. A fireman appeared with a gurney, and Whitney was quickly tossed onto the stretcher.
Danny pulled Eddie to his feet and took Eddie’s rifle. “Go, boss. Go with your girl.”
Nodding, Eddie cast a quick glance at Craig. The other man gave him a reassuring look. He’d deal with everything here.
Eddie trailed the stretcher and medics to the ambulance. The female paramedic stopped him as he tried to climb into the back of the ambulance. “Are you family?”
“Closest thing she has to it.”
“Fiance?” The medic guessed.
“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t a lie, really. He loved her, wanted her as his wife, and would ask her as soon as possible.
“Get in, but stay out of my way.”
Eddie’s estimation of the paramedic rose even higher. A take-no-bullshit attitude like that? Usually a sign of competence. He’d take that over wishy-washy any day.
He settled onto the bench seat at the end closest to the double doors to stay clear of the two medics working on Whitney. While the male medic compressed the blue bag attached to the intubation equipment and delivered breaths, the woman cut the front of Whitney’s dress enough to bare her chest. She cut through the bra and removed the pieces of lingerie before attaching leads to Whitney’s chest. She punched the keys on the heart monitor. Eddie’s gut clenched at the sight of the very weak heartbeat.
“Where we going, Tamara?” The fireman poked his head through the small window between the cab and the box.
“Take her to Mick,” Eddie instructed.
“Mick?” Tamara glanced at him and frowned. “You mean Dr. O’Loughlin?”
“He’s our roommate and…friend,” Eddie answered. God, Whitney was right. It was sticky as hell trying to explain their relationship to others. “His hospital is closest, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” Tamara said. “Best goddamn trauma surgeon in this city.”
She gave the fireman his driving orders, and they sped out of the parking lot. Eddie braced his foot against the gurney to keep from sliding around in the back of the box. He desperately wanted to help, but there was nothing for him to do. Tamara and her partner had things under control, and Whitney was holding on-for now.
Eddie slipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. His finger trembled as he punched in Mick’s speed dial key and tried to figure out how the hell he was going to tell the man he loved the woman they both wanted as their wife had been shot.
Mick plastered a smile on his face as his colleagues bullshitted around the lunch table in the cafeteria. He poked at the salad on his plate. Lately everything seemed unappetizing. He missed dinner with Whitney and Eddie so much. He’d tried to have a simple bowl of cereal with Whitney the other morning, but it had been disastrous.
