“Stay here,” he yelled through the rain as she opened her car door.
A gunshot echoed through the wind.
He tore across the front yard and thrust the front door open with his shoulder. “Katie!”
Simone was on his heels as he raced down the dark hall. His eyes locked on Kate on the floor of the kitchen. Blood covered her bathrobe.
His heart lurched into his throat. He dropped to his knees, frantically searching for a wound. “Where are you hurt?”
“It’s not me,” she choked out. “It’s not my blood.”
“Are you sure? There’s so much.”
“No. I’m fine. Oh, God, Ryan. Mitch.”
Ryan tore his gaze away from her long enough to see Mitch lying on the floor, out cold. Blood trickled down his head. Simone was at his side, trying to coax him awake.
“Shit.” Ryan pushed to his feet, darted around the island in the kitchen and tore open drawers. His stomach rolled when he stepped over Hannah’s body. Blood oozed from the chest wound. Her lifeless eyes stared toward the ceiling.
He fumbled for towels in the cabinet drawers. Grabbing an armful, he raced back to Kate and Simone. “Press these against the bleeding.”
“Mitch? Can you hear me?” Kate leaned over her brother while Ryan dialed nine-one-one on his cell and spoke to an operator.
“Mitch?” Simone said in a panicked voice. “Stay with us. Dammit, I’ll get you that red leather outfit you want if you’ll just open your eyes.”
Ryan tried to talk coherently to the nine-one-one operator. Outside, sirens roared, but all he could focus on was the towels in Kate’s hand, soaked in Mitch’s blood.
Two minutes before, he’d prayed Kate wouldn’t be hurt. Now he only wanted that for Mitch.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kate pushed the hospital room door open and smiled at the conversation she’d walked in on.
“Would you quit fussing at me?” Mitch swatted at Simone’s hand as she tried to fix the blankets around him. “I’m not four.”
“I swear, you are the worst patient ever. I don’t know how these nurses put up with you.” She shot him an annoyed look.
Kate eased into the room. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the window. “Grumpy?”
“A royal pain in my ass,” Simone grumbled.
“You’re a real peach, too, sweetheart,” Mitch muttered.
Laughing, Kate stepped up to the bed and squeezed his toes under the blankets. “A knock on the head will do that to a person. Trust me, I know.”
After two days, Mitch’s energy was slowly returning. His head was still bandaged, and he’d lost some curls when they’d shaved one side of his scalp for the fifteen stitches he’d needed, but he was gradually inching back to his old sarcastic self.
“I need caffeine.” Simone dropped her arms and headed for the door.
“Why don’t you go pick up that red leather number while you’re out,” Mitch called. When she looked back with a shocked expression, he said, “Yeah, I heard you, gorgeous. And I sure as hell am not forgetting that promise.”
Simone huffed and left the room. When she was gone, Kate smiled at her brother. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“On what?” He reached for her hand and scooted over so she could sit on the side of his bed.
“On finding your penguin. Julia told me about the book she read.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not marrying her, for shit’s sake. We’re just dating. At the moment, that’s all I can get her to agree to.”
“I know.” Kate brushed a curl back from his face. “You should be nicer to her, though. She was really worried. You looked like death warmed over in my kitchen. I think she had flashbacks of Steve.”
“Shit.” His eyes slid closed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I’m sure not. You are a guy, after all.”
“And all men are insensitive, is that it?”
“Well…”
“Let’s not go there, smartass.” His face sobered. “How are you?”
Kate drew in a long breath. Aside from the press hounding her since the story broke, and the agony still coursing through her every time she thought of Ryan, she was surviving. Barely.
“I’m fine.” She mustered up a smile she knew didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll be glad when things quiet down. Mitch, I—”
“If you even think about thanking me, I’ll kick you out of here.”
A real smile curled her lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.” He frowned. “‘Cause my image is shot. I got my ass kicked by a girl. Again.”
“A psycho girl. There’s a difference. And you weren’t the only one.”