“The paramedics are working on him,” Tram said, concerned brown eyes scanning her face, and then dropping to her torso.
No doubt checking for bullet holes or stab wounds or something to account for all that blood.
“He—” More coughing. She wheezed the next question out. “Alive?”
Devlin noticed a couple of people wrinkle their noses and step away as they moved past. Not a surprise. She smelled overwhelmingly of smoke and blood and sweat. Not a pleasant combination.
“He’s alive. The EMTs have stabilized him.” Tram said. “He’s a tough bastard. He’ll pull through.” He swept her face again. “More worried about you at the moment.”
“I’m okay—” An endless, racking cough followed. When she could breathe again, her inhale was wheezy. “Not my blood. Mitch.” She took a careful, shallow breath and swallowed a cough. “Stabbed him. In neck.”
Okaaaay.
Devlin exchanged surprised looks with Trammel. That explained all the blood. If she’d hit his jugular, or carotid, he’d have sprayed blood everywhere. Judging by the volume of blood she was carrying, he must have bled out.
Looked like he’d been wrong about her. She’d had the balls to take a life when she had to.
“Is he dead?” Tram was the one to ask the question, but it was on Dev’s mind too.
“Think so.” Her eyes were an irritated, bloodshot red. Her voice raw and raspy, but she didn’t cough this time. “He wasn’t moving.”
Damn…
Devlin scowled; he’d wanted to bring the motherfucker to justice. Make him pay. Death inside of a minute was too damn quick for the bastard.
She took a deep breath. Held it. Her exhale came out in a rush, along with a stifled cough. “Want to see Brett.”
Devlin tightened his arm around her waist. “We’re taking you to him.”
Or close enough. They were headed toward the paramedics.
They passed right next to Madeline as they emerged from the crowd. Devlin’s gaze tried to skip that way. He forced it straight ahead.
The pavement where Tag had lain was slick with blood, but empty. Sarah let out a small, groaning moan when she caught sight of the red puddles draining across the pavement.
“Don’t pay attention to that. It looks like more than there is,” Devlin said as he watched the EMTs load Tag into the ambulance. He whistled to catch their attention. “They have him on plasma and packed red blood cells. He’ll be fine.”
The gal at the back of the stretcher looked over at his whistle, said something to her partner who was up in the ambulance with Tag, and headed over to meet them.
“We need to get him to the ER, STAT,” she said when they reached the ambulance. “There’s another unit out front. You’ll need to take her there.”
“Going with him.” Sarah didn’t give them a chance to say no. Simply pushed away from Dev and Tram and clambered into the ambulance before the woman EMT could stop her.
“Miss.” The paramedic leaned into the ambulance and raised her voice. “You need attention. We can’t give it to you here. You need to go—”
“I’m fine. It’s not my blood.” Sarah coughed out as she knelt beside Tag and reached for his hand. “I’m riding with him.”
Tram shrugged when the EMT turned to them with a scowl. “She’s his fiancée. The guy who shot him kidnapped her. She escaped. You’ll get him there faster if you give in now and let her ride with him.”
“We need to go,” the other EMT said as he adjusted the tubing on one of the drips. “Let her ride. It will take too long for the cops to drag her away.”
He must have seen the stubborn, defiant look on Sarah’s face.
Shrugging, the female paramedic slammed shut the ambulance’s rear hatch, and booked it to the driver’s door, quickly climbing into the vehicle. Seconds later, the lights and siren came on as the ambulance pulled away.
“Fiancée?” Devlin asked with a raised eyebrow.
Tram offered a wry grin. “He will be soon as he wakes up.”
A grim silence fell over them. And Dev knew Tram was thinking the same thing he was. If he woke up. He shook the pessimistic thought aside, concentrating on the business at hand.
But now that Tag was on his way to the ER, his attention tried to skip back to Madeline. He ignored the urge to check on her, see how she was doing, maybe offer her a shoulder to lean on.
“Tag’s got some water and towels in his truck,” Tram said absently, scratching at his bare chest. “Let’s clean up your hands and head to