One second after that, Creed’s gun discharged, the arm around my chest loosened and the gun at my head went away as the man behind me shouted in pain when the bullet ripped through his thigh.
One second after that, I cleared him and started running to Creed.
And one second after that, my world exploded.
This was because two shots were fired not from the man Creed brought down but from another one who hit our scene from behind. They whizzed by me and hit Creed. Blood sprayed in a hideous cloud from his neck and his chest jerked back before he fell back, landing heavy without even attempting to break his fall.
“No!” I shrieked, still running toward him.
More bullets flew and I dropped to the side of my hip, sliding toward Creed like I was stealing a base. I yanked the gun out of his motionless hand, twisted, lifted, aimed and fired two kill shots. One directly in the face of the man who shot Creed, one through the throat of the man who grabbed me and was on the ground, recovering and aiming his weapon at me.
Two lives extinguished, two more lives taken by me.
I didn’t give it a thought.
I turned, pulled myself up on my knees, dropped the gun with a clatter and bent over Creed.
My Creed. My beautiful, beautiful Creed, on his back, eyes closed, not breathing, blood pooling from the wound in his neck.
I covered the wound, put pressure on and shouted, my voice a piercing screech, “Man down! Man down! Man down!”
I stopped screaming and bent over Creed, my face in his face, my hand not engaged in putting pressure on his neck running over his chest, searching for another wound as my heart pounded in my chest, my pulse beating so hard in my neck, it felt like it would tear through, my throat burning, my world ending.
“Tonight’s not my night to lose you, partner,” I told him. “Tomorrow’s not my day to lose you, either.” I lifted my hand from his chest and brought it down in a fist over his heart, my voice now shouting, “Never, never, never again will there be a time when it’s my time to lose you!”
Creed said nothing and his blood flowed warm against my hand.
Fuck me, f**k me, f**k me.
I knew that feeling. I’d seen it before. That blood, all that blood.
Richard bled out in minutes. I watched. It seemed his life flashed, then gone.
Not Creed.
Not Creed.
That was not going to happen to my Creed.
Fuck, God, please don’t take Creed away from me. Not again. Not again.
Not ever again.
I bent over him, my hand leaving his chest, I held the pressure to his neck with my other as I vaguely heard the gunfire die out, running feet around us and I put my lips to his ear.
“Come back to me,” I whispered. “Come back to me.” Tears hit my eyes, spilling over instantly as Creed didn’t move. “Goddamn it, Creed, come back to me!”
“Jesus, baby, calm down,” he wheezed and I blinked.
Then I jerked up and looked down into his opened, beautiful, stunning, amazing, beloved blue eyes.
He sucked in another breath and knifed up to sitting. Automatically I sat back on my calves to give him room and my hand dropped from his neck as his hands went to his chest. He tore open his awesome shirt, buttons flying everywhere then reached in and yanked. I heard Velcro tear as he unstrapped his stealth-fit bulletproof vest.
When had he put on a vest?
And how had I not felt it?
“Fuckin’ hell, that hurts like a goddamned mother,” he bitched breathlessly.