Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,94
right now is for you to stay calm and let me take care of you.” He encircled her wrist to check her pulse.
“Hunter.” She gripped his vest straps in both hands and yanked, bringing the surprised cop nose-to-nose. “Take me to Con this instant, or I will—”
“Playing doctor with my woman, Garrett?” Con’s deep voice asked from outside.
Bailey’s heart stuttered on a surge of wild relief. “Con!” She scrambled past Hunter.
Con stood outside, his arms spread wide. “Come here, darlin’.”
She leaped out of the ambulance, into his waiting arms. Tangled emotions—held at bay too long—slammed against the battered wall of her composure. Overwhelmed, she burst into tears.
Warm, vital, alive, Con held her tight. “Easy, baby. It’s all right. I’m here.”
Clinging to him, she sobbed. “You were shot. There was b-blood all over. I th—thought you w-were dead!”
“I’m sorry, darlin’. I tried to get to you.” He stroked her hair. “A round ricocheted off the cart and grazed my scalp. Dazed me for a second. Liam and Aidan grabbed me and hauled me to the ambulance. They held me down while Grady checked me out and bandaged the wound. Took both of ’em to do it, too, the swine. I have to stop in at the ER for stitches on the way home.”
“Your poor head.” He was all right! Why couldn’t she stop crying? Tears streaming down her face, she tried to pull away. “L-let go, I’ll hurt you.”
Con wouldn’t release her. “It’s nothing. A scratch.”
“A scratch that b-bled all over? Th—that’s what you always s-say.”
“That’s all it is. Hey, now. You’re shaking so hard, your bones are rattling.” He swept her off her feet and stepped into the ambulance. Sometime in the last few minutes, Hunter had faded into the storm. Con eased her down on the edge of the stretcher and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. He sat and again took her into his embrace. “Are you all right?”
“N-no. Y-yes,” she sobbed. “I don’t k-know.”
He rubbed her back in slow circles. “You’ve had a rough time. Just let it out. Let go. I’m here.”
She rested her cheek on his wide chest and the night’s trauma poured out of her in wracking sobs. She cried for all she’d lost. For what she’d gained. For what she’d done, and everything she’d left undone. “I—I’m s-sorry. I—I’m such a w-wimp.”
“You’re anything but. It’s a natural reaction after all you’ve been through.” Con held her close, murmuring comfort. “Crying will make you feel better.”
“Y-you d-don’t c-cry.”
He chuckled. “No, but I’ll probably go a hundred rounds with the punching bag tomorrow. Everybody has to purge strong emotions, sweetheart. Even cops. Well…wise cops.”
Con gently rocked Bailey as she cried. He calmed and soothed, while fighting growing dread. Her sobs didn’t worry him; tears were a healthy response after a crisis. He’d be far more concerned if she acted cool and detached. What had him on the ropes were the long-term consequences. Bailey had held her own during an ordeal that would have wigged out most people. Without her intelligence and courage, he might be going home in a body bag. He didn’t doubt she loved him—enough to sacrifice her own life.
But tonight, she’d lived through combat. Waded knee-deep in bullets, blood and death. His tenderhearted girl had been forced to hurt another human being with cold, premeditated violence. If that wasn’t enough horror, she’d seen him get shot, and had thought he was dead. Even if the other events hadn’t traumatized her beyond bearing, that could be the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. He couldn’t blame his brothers, they hadn’t known how badly he was hurt. But in trying to save his life, they might have snatched away everything that mattered.
Bailey shuddered, and he held her tighter, continuing to rock. She wouldn’t stay with him if he resigned from the team, she’d made that perfectly clear. Every time he donned his uniform, holstered his weapon…every time he walked out the door, she would remember. She would know. She didn’t have to imagine the hazards of his job anymore, hell, she’d experienced them up close and personal. Could she live with that?
His stomach clenched. Would she want to?
He patted her back. Her sobs were slowing, becoming quieter. “C’mon, darlin’. I’ll take you home.”
She sniffed, and wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “Don’t you have to do paperwork or something?”
He smiled in spite of his inner turmoil. Leave it to his practical girl to remember duty in the midst of