Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,90
inches from Matthew’s head.
Troy dropped the gun. He fell to the floor.
Wade had a death grip on Victoria.
She was pretty sure Matthew was crying from his perch on the ground.
“Why the hell . . .” Matthew whimpered as he clutched his shoulder. “. . . did you shoot . . . me? He was the one . . . wanted people . . . dead.”
Troy was gasping and shuddering. Victoria tried to pull free in order to check on him, but Wade’s grip was unbreakable.
She stared up at him, and the fury in his eyes—it stole her breath.
“He had you,” Wade whispered. “The sonofabitch had you.”
Footsteps thundered out in the reception area and uniformed security guards stumbled inside. Victoria recognized those men. They were the same men Troy North had called the very first time she and Wade had come to his office . . . when Jim had attacked him.
Now they stood there, faces slack with shock, as they stared at the brutal scene in front of them.
Two men shot. One man still armed.
So much blood.
The security guards grabbed for the Tasers on their belts as they stared at Wade with rising horror.
“Easy.” Wade put the gun down. “Call the cops, right the hell now. Get Detective Black here. This isn’t what it looks like . . .”
“You shot two men!” the red-haired guard shouted. He appeared to be about two seconds away from Tasering Wade.
“It’s not even my weapon. Dr. Walker came to the scene with the gun.” Wade had his hands up. “I can explain it all, but first . . . get the cops. Get an ambulance. Because I think Dr. North is dying.”
That last shot—Victoria knew there had been no choice. He’d had to shoot . . . to kill.
The older guard grabbed for his radio.
“Get me help,” Matthew gasped out. “I need . . . help, too. And . . . North . . . Troy North . . . he’s crazy . . . make sure he’s . . . down . . .”
The red-haired guard gulped and glanced over at Troy. Then he made sure to kick Troy’s gun farther away. “He’s still alive,” the guard said. “But he’s bad.” He looked green as he muttered, “That blood is pumping out of him so hard.”
Victoria could taste the bitterness of fear on her tongue. Troy had been holding her, grabbing for that gun in his desk, and she knew he’d been ready to shoot Matthew.
And Wade?
But now Troy North was lying in a pool of his own blood. A big, growing pool. Troy was bleeding from his shoulder, and it looked as if another bullet had grazed his side.
“I’m a doctor,” she whispered. “Please, let me try to help.” Because she couldn’t just stand there and watch him die. It just . . . I can’t.
The older guard had knelt next to Troy.
The red-haired guard kept his Taser up and his wary gaze on Wade, but he motioned for Victoria to go ahead.
“Be careful,” Wade told her. “Even a dying man can try taking you to hell with him.”
She swallowed at that stark warning, fear heavy in her gut. But when she knelt next to Troy, his eyes—so wild and desperate—locked onto hers with a frantic intensity.
“D-Don’t . . .” He rasped.
“I’m just checking your wounds.” And they were bad. So bad. She put her hands on his chest, and his blood soaked her fingers as she tried to staunch that wild flow. Victoria was very afraid that Wade’s bullet had come too close to Troy’s heart.
He’d had to stop Troy.
And he had.
She put more pressure on his wound, trying to help, but—
It’s too late. I can see it now. His breath was too ragged, his skin color already changing. His pupils were pinpricks as he stared up at her.
“Don’t . . . t-trust . . .”
She had to lean closer in order to hear him. “Who? Who shouldn’t I trust?”
Troy’s gaze darted over her shoulder. His lips parted.
But he didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t.
He was gone.
She tried to bring him back, pumping on his heart, desperate because she didn’t want him dying there, not like that—not even with the horrible things he’d done.
I don’t want to be anyone’s judge and jury. Not ever again. I can’t be.
But . . . but there was nothing. No hope. His body was limp beneath her hands. She tried and tried—and she was still trying when the EMTs rushed into the office.
They pulled her