“Oh my God!” she screamed. “Brad! Help! He’s been shot!” She dropped him to his side, unsure of what to do. How to stop the bleeding. She pressed her hands on top of his, a sob catching in her throat as her fingers turned scarlet and wet.
Nancy shot to her son’s side, pressing her hands over Amanda’s. “Call 9-1-1!”
Shaking, Amanda slid her slick hands from beneath Nancy’s. She wiped her hands down her dress and retrieved her cell. All the while, his mother spoke to him, her voice soothing and calm, begging him to keep his eyes open. To remain conscious.
Amanda’s vision blurred as she dialed, and she shook while she waited for an answer. From the corner of her eye, she saw that Mitchell had pushed the senator down, covering his body with his own.
The minute the dispatcher answered, Amanda focused on answering the questions the operator asked. After what seemed like the longest minutes in history, the wail of an ambulance finally broke through the madness around her.
“Thank God.”
EIGHTEEN
Decklan had asked Max to meet him at the club. He hadn’t been to the place since the last time he’d met up with Amanda there. He hadn’t missed it either. But he couldn’t help but admit it felt good to be here now, nursing a soda and waiting for his best friend. Especially when he’d come to a decision about Amanda and he had time to kill before he could do anything about it. He didn’t want alcohol dulling his senses when he dealt with Amanda later on.
Because it was daytime, there wasn’t any play going on, just a few members having a drink or meeting to talk. A big-screen TV hung above the bar, playing the news, and Decklan kept an eye on the closed captions while waiting for Max.
“Good to see you,” Max said, joining him at their favorite seats by the bar. “So what’s the deal with Amanda? You two back together yet?”
Max knew the bare-bones details about Amanda’s fake relationship with Brad. He knew nothing about their interaction after, specifically Decklan’s behavior. He’d always known that no matter what he decided about the future with Amanda, he owed her an apology for preying on her weakness. That hadn’t been his intention.
“Not yet. I’m going to go talk to her in a little while. She’s got one last required event with the Ritters.” Then, to quote Brad, she was free. And once there were no external barriers keeping them apart, he intended to make things right.
“And then you’re going to get your girl?” Max asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“Does she want to be gotten?” he asked, laughing.
Decklan groaned. “That’s the big question. I f**ked up.”
Max leaned an arm on the bar, studying him with too-knowing eyes. “Well, no shit, buddy. You’re you. You have abandonment issues.”
Decklan rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you become a shrink? Then you could spend your days analyzing everyone else’s problems and you’d be too sick of it to bother with mine.”
Max grinned. “Because my father left me his business, that’s why. Now let’s get back to you.”
“Okay, Freud. I had a visit from her best friend. The senator’s son. I gave him a piece of my mind, but in a few succinct words, he let me know I hadn’t handled things with her any better.”
After signaling for a drink, Max turned his attention back to him. “Spell it out.”
“Instead of accepting her explanation and apology, I basically stripped her of her defenses, got pissed at myself, and sent her on her way.” The memories of that night were still crystal-clear and just as painful now as then.
Max shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Because you’d rather push her away than lose her some other way. Like I said, abandonment issues.”
“Go away.”
He shrugged. “Hey, if the shoe fits…”
It did. Too well. Decklan just hadn’t viewed things from that perspective. Sometimes Dr. Freud had good points, not that Decklan would tell him and give him any more of a swelled head.
But the gut-wrenching truth was he’d taken a woman who was just waiting for everyone in her life to find her lacking and he’d done just that.
“Shit, man. Look.” Max pointed to the television screen.
Decklan glanced up, and his heart practically stopped beating as he read the closed-captioned words on the screen, Presidential candidate Senator Stephan Ritter and family involved in shooting downtown.
“Hey, turn the volume up,” Max yelled to the bartender.