come to terms with it was right on target. If she slew the dragon she would forever kill a vital part of who she was. Her drive. Her confidence.
Her passion.
She would forfeit her happiness. Destroy her future.
The dragon had roared to life and would not be quieted. Bailey opened her arms and embraced it. And if she couldn’t control it? She squared her shoulders. She’d learn to deal with the consequences. The former distinct line between black and white was irrevocably smudged, gray and fuzzy. In ashes.
When she reached the fallen robber, she tore open packages containing the blankets and spread the first comforter over him.
He stirred, moaned and opened his eyes. “Help me.”
Compassion swirled inside her. In spite of the fact that he’d tried to rape her, and kill both her and Con, he was still a human being. As reprehensible and dangerous as he was, he must be suffering unspeakable pain. “You just tried to kill the only man trained to help you. I can’t move you without causing further injury, but I’ll try to make you comfortable.”
He spat out a filthy epithet before again losing consciousness.
She shuddered. Imagine living with such clawing hatred. Bitter, twisted values. Desire for material possessions that drove him to steal. And kill. None of it could ever make him happy…or remotely satisfied. One of two fates awaited him. Sudden, violent death, or growing old and feeble locked in a steel cage. When he died, he would die alone. A wasted life. But his choice. He deserved to pay for his crimes. Nevertheless, pity swelled inside her. She covered him with the second comforter and tiptoed away.
After a fast detour into the Dollar Store for ibuprofen and bottled water, she ran back to Con. She stood for a moment with the bottles clutched to her chest, watching him sleep. The most important person in her world. Hurt and vulnerable. Her heart turned over. She would not let anything happen to him.
She reined in her tumbling emotions and arranged first-aid supplies on a nearby table. She eased onto the mattress beside him. “Con? Con, wake up.”
He moaned and opened his eyes. The deep mahogany pools were cloudy with pain. “Yo. Officer O’Rourke, reporting for duty.”
She forced a smile. “You’re easily roused. That’s a good thing, according to Grady.” Of course, he hadn’t been asleep very long.
“I knew you were here. I smelled you in my dreams.” A sleepy, sensual grin slid across his mouth. “You could arouse the dead, sweetheart.”
Her pulse stuttered. Likewise. “That’s rouse, buster. As in awaken.”
“I’m awake. Mmm.” He drew a deep breath, breathing her in. “Dewy roses, warmed by the morning sun. And swaying in a soft, peppermint-scented breeze.”
She swallowed the aching lump lodged in her throat. If the sweet sentiments came from any other guy, she’d worry about his cognitive function. With Con, it wasn’t the head wound talking. The fact that her battle-hardened cop wasn’t afraid to show her his romantic soul touched her to the core. She’d fallen in love with the poet at first sight, but she hadn’t really known the warrior until tonight. Two halves of the whole man. She loved them both.
Bailey gave herself a mental shake. Right now, Con needed first aid, not fantasies. She uncapped the water and then dumped two ibuprofen tablets into her palm. “Here, take these.”
He stared suspiciously at the pills. “What’s that?”
“Something for the pain.” He started to speak, and she shook her head. “Before you insist you don’t need it, let me state for the record, Officer Sexy, you are taking it. One way or another.”
His slow grin gleamed. “You’re not giving me much choice.”
“Nope.” She supported his head while he swallowed the pills.
“Hand me your pack, please.” He woozily propped himself on one elbow and the covers fell to his waist. His movements clumsy and sluggish, he palmed the pistol. “Finally, a weapon other than toys and athletic equipment to fight with.”
In his condition, fighting wasn’t feasible. She squelched a flutter of panic. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Metal clanged as he opened and examined the chamber, then dislodged the clip. Should he be playing with a deadly weapon when he was incapacitated? She started to say something but clamped her lips together. Disabled or not, he knew what he was doing.
He jammed the clip back into place, and then slid the gun under his pillow. “Not much ammo.”
“Better than none.” She didn’t like touching guns, but sure as heck wasn’t opposed to him having