Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,36
a makeshift pad and placed them on Syrone’s back over the exit wound. Gently turning the big man, he leaned him against the display case so his weight would put pressure on the pad at the right spot. “The bullet went clean through.”
“Well, isn’t this just my lucky day?”
“Considering those scum decided to use you for target practice, yeah.”
“Guess I should count my blessings that big SOB had lousy aim.”
“Things could be worse.” Con folded more towels and covered the entry hole in Syrone’s shoulder.
“Things can always be worse, Irish.”
“That they can.” Hoping the statement wasn’t prophetic, he took Syrone’s hand and pressed it over the pad. “Hold this tight.”
Syrone winced. “That hurts like a mother.”
“I know. Sorry, buddy. I’ve got to leave you for a few minutes and clean up the blood trail.”
“Hells bells, is that how you found me? I was so out of it, I didn’t even think about that. Follow the bloody brick road.”
Con chuckled. Syrone’s body had taken a beating, but his spirit was intact. “You had other things on your mind, like survival. Be right back.”
He grabbed more rags from the storeroom and then hurried out to the mall. Trying to block his worries for Bailey, he mopped up most of the blood except for the trail that backtracked toward the opposite end. The false lead might throw the bad guys off the scent. For a while.
Finished, he sprinted back to check Syrone. The guard was holding his own. Barely. Con couldn’t relax until the bleeding was stopped, the shock under control and his friend safely hidden.
He tied the blood-soaked rags into a plastic garbage bag and threw it in the trash can in the storage room. “How’d you get away from them?”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine. Couldn’t let some rat-bastard civilians take me down without breaking a sweat, could I?”
In spite of his anxiety about his friend’s condition, Con grinned. “No, you couldn’t.”
Flushed and panting, Bailey hurried in. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in his life. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He looked up, embracing her in his gaze. C’mon, sweetheart. Give me a sign we can work it out. Something. Anything. His feelings ran the gamut, yo-yoing from fear to anxiety to hope. “Have any trouble? See anybody?”
“No.” Her glance slid away, and he squelched disappointment. The dragon still loomed between them. Dammit, he smashed down barricades for a living. Vanquished dragons daily. However, he could not fight this battle. She had to find the courage and strength inside her to slay the beast—her fear.
Standing on the sidelines awaiting the outcome while she fought alone was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He determinedly squelched his emotions. Top priority: concentrate on keeping everyone alive.
Con again took Syrone’s pulse. It was faster, and his respiration had also increased. His ebony skin was clammy. Not good.
Bailey knelt beside Con and he extended his hand, palm up. “Scissors.”
Syrone grabbed Con’s wrist. “Hold the phone, Irish. What are you cutting off?”
He chuckled. “Your jacket. After today, Riverside Security better spring for a new one. Okay?”
“I dunno. You have a license to practice?”
Bailey patted Syrone’s leg. “Don’t worry. Con is trained in first aid.”
Con frowned. “How do you know that?”
She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You are, right?”
“Yes, but—”
She handed him the scissors. “Here.”
The woman was a wealth of information. Had she been reading up on SWAT training? A small, positive sign. Hope flickered to the forefront. If she’d been researching his job, she was interested. In spite of her reservations, she cared. He cut away the bloody, wet uniform. “You must have been caught in the downpour.”
“You, too, from the looks of you.” Syrone attempted a grin, but it looked more like a grimace. “The rainstorm your doing?”
“Yeah. When the trucks arrived, we signaled them to call up SWAT. The boys in black should be on site any second.”
“Smart, Irish.”
“Bailey’s idea. She’s the mind behind the operation. I’m just the muscle.” He unbuttoned Syrone’s shirt, and again held out his hand. “Disinfectant.”
Her movements jittery and distracted, Bailey hesitated. “Not true. We came up with the plan together.”
Syrone gave a weak chuckle. “Awesome work, if you ask me. You two make a great dynamic duo.”
Con looked at Bailey, and this time her gaze lingered on his. The hurt and bewilderment swimming in her eyes punched into his chest. He sent her a silent message. We do make a great team. Believe. Trust.
Internal tumult ravaged her face as she