Why wasn’t she answering?
Once again, she scrambled over to Portia’s side. She gently rolled her over. Her first close-up look at the wound was obscured by the blood that coated the front of Portia’s shirt.
Dizzie pressed her fingers to her sister’s neck. Portia had a pulse, but it was faint. Shit, what now?
On the other side of the glass, Leopold laughed and pounded on the wall. “At least I got one of you this time.” He mimed shooting a gun. “You’re next!”
Dizzie pulled Portia into her arms and tried to keep pressure on her wound. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”
She fought to keep her panic at bay. If Portia died, Dizzie had no way to prove it wasn’t her fault.
That was how security found them, Dizzie cradling the unconscious Tremaine princess and her father’s assistant screaming that it was all her fault.
Two security guards extricated Portia from Dizzie’s arms and radioed for immediate medical assistance. The rest of the squad arrested Dizzie.
They tugged her hands behind her to secure them. The sudden movement pulled at the wound and pain burst through her whole side. After the confrontation with Leopold, it was too much for her system to handle. She sagged in their grip.
Chapter47
Killian stoodin front of Tremaine headquarters, waiting with the newsies who were getting antsy. Portia had never showed, and the PR person was running out of excuses. He’d spent the whole time creating and discarding plans to get Dizzie out of the building—and out of the city, if he had to. He had enough money to set them up somewhere else.
The thought made him ill. Not the living with Dizzie part. But the fact that he’d be betraying Portia.
That had been the problem with most of his plans. Too many of them ended with Portia never forgiving him. Especially the one he’d decided to go with: releasing Dizzie’s identity as Tremaine’s daughter might be the only way to get her safely out of the building.
And if he took that step, it was possible neither woman would ever forgive him. He could live with that if it meant Dizzie was safe.
His phone rang. Killian pulled it out. Was it Dizzie? He hadn’t spoken with her since last night.
Caller ID was blank, the same as the call he’d received in Dizzie’s cell. Killian’s stomach sank. He turned away and answered. “Hello?”
“Dizzie’s been captured.” The robotic voice delivered the message emotionlessly.
Killian paled as a wave of emotions rushed over him. Fear, anger, worry. He turned away from the crowd so the newsies wouldn’t see his sudden panic as a story. “How? What? Why?” His questions tumbled out.
“The original bomber attempted to kill both Dizzie and Portia. Both were wounded and Portia’s still unconscious, so they didn’t know what to do with Dizzie.”
Killian had questions, so many questions, but he limited himself to the most important one. “Who was it?”
There was a pause on the other line. A long pause. “Tremaine’s assistant.”
Holy shit. Leopold? “Is he talking?”
Another pause. “I don’t know. I can’t get any more information. I need to go. It’s up to you.” A long pause. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
There was a click and a dial tone. Killian was left staring at his phone.
Tommy’s killer had a name now. One that still shocked him. But instead of the relief that Killian had expected to feel, his stomach churned with a sense of failure. Dizzie had been wounded and once again, he couldn’t do anything to save someone he loved.
Love her? Was that what this feeling was? The realization should have been a surprise. Instead, it was a relief. He spent years after his parents’ tragic accident living half a life, never allowing himself to feel anything too deeply. Dizzie had broken through that shell and freed the man trapped inside.
He could do no less for her.
Killian stared at the podium. The newsies had gotten restless and were drifting away. It was now or never.
Hardening his resolve, Killian made his way to the front of the crowd. No one tried to stop him. They were trying to corral the newsies, but it wasn’t working.
The panicked PR person stepped aside, quickly ceding the floor to him. What was he doing? He’d spent most of his life avoiding these people. Now here he was standing up here to speak to them willingly.
