“Um, yes. I, ah, well. I have anxiety and night terrors still.” I gulped, trying to breathe. My skin tingled. Panic attack? Probably on its way.
He studied me.
Realization hit, and heat flashed into my face. “Oh. You mean this time.”
He smiled then, and I swear, the sun parted through the clouds. Seriously. “Yeah. I mean this time.” His voice was so gentle, I wanted to cry.
That quickly, I returned to reality. This disaster and danger. My stomach heaved, and my knees buckled. Someone had shot at me. I started to fall.
Strong arms swooped me into the air. “I’ve got you.”
Aidan Devlin had just saved me. Again.
His dark eyebrows lifted as several police vehicles barreled to a stop in their side parking lot. Befuddled, I took stock. My wide gaze landed on Randy, who leaped to his feet, his eyes wild with fear.
“What the fuck?” he bellowed.
I tried to spit out a piece of grass and remember that I was a lawyer, all grown up, and not a terrified ten-year-old kid who’d been kidnapped by a psychopath. “Are you all right, Mr. Taylor?”
Uniformed cops spilled out of the police station. Emergency vehicle doors opened from the parking area, and boots hit the ground.
Randy glared. “Who shot at you?”
Aiden tightened his arms. “I think they were shooting at you, sport.” His voice still hinted of Ireland, the lilting tone sounding like my Mom’s and grounding me for a moment. I leaned my face into the strong cords of his neck and breathed in salt, musk, and man, trying to calm my stomach. Trying to ignore the nerves firing all over my body. He held me easily, securely in his solid arms as I regained my equilibrium. I so didn’t want to puke in front of him.
“It’s all right, Angel.” He pulled me closer, dipping his head to cradle my face in comfort. To shield me on all fronts—from any more hurts. It was the same way he’d held me when he’d saved me before.
Did he remember doing so?
This was crazy. I should stand on my own feet like some modern-day lady of justice. But I didn’t. I burrowed deeper. Into strength and safety. It’s where I had wanted to be for well over a decade. I’m not sure what that says about me, but it’s probably not something to put on a headstone.
“Deep breaths. They’re long gone. No more shooting.” His voice crooned from a magical place, and I concentrated on it, sucking in air, trying to keep from falling into a panic attack. “You control your own mind. Take it somewhere else. Just for a moment.”
My concentration shot straight to the hardness holding me. His breathing remained steady, his stance secure. Man, he was strong. And I liked the way we fit. I shook my head—this was insane, and I needed some space. No matter how many times I’d dreamed of him through the years, I had to pull it together. He was a criminal defendant facing trial, for Pete’s sake. People changed.
The sound of running feet as people barreled out the courthouse doors brought me back to the present. I surveyed the fancy suit I’d borrowed from my sister, Donna. Two jagged rips marred the skirt, but no bullet holes. Thank God. No wounds.
“I’m okay now.” I leaned to look up into his face. “You can put me down.” My arms remained around his neck, and I fought the urge to play with the thick hair curling over his nape. Feeling safe was almost an aphrodisiac. Who knew?
“I think I’ll keep you for a while.” His gaze ran over my face, his jaw tight. Sounded good. Then he took a quick inventory and blew out a breath. “Ah, sweetheart. You’re bleeding.”
I followed his gaze to my right shoulder. Holy crap. Blood welled, and suddenly my shoulder hurt. A lot.
“Jesus. You got shot,” Randy yelled.
Shot. Bullets and blood. Oh God.
Aiden stalked forward several paces to place me on the stone ledge that cornered the park. Quick movements had my sister’s jacket removed, and him leaning forward to peer at my wound.
Randy sniffed next to us, and I fought the urge to keep from screaming. Panic would only make things worse. My vision hazed. Wasn’t there an artery somewhere close to the bullet hole? Oh no. There was an artery.
“I’m bleeding out,” I sniffed.
Aiden bit back a quick grin. I knew he did, because a dimple flashed in his left cheek for just a second. “You’re okay,” he