Motorcycles started and rubber squealed as the cowardly bastards tried to flee.
“Bishop.” I sat up and ran my hands over his body.
Single GSW to the chest.
Fuck.
The bloodstain spread even as I tried to cover it with my hands and apply pressure.
“We need an ambulance.”
33
BISHOP
The bullet burned through my shoulder with a savage pain.
I’d felt worse.
A lot worse.
The location of the pain told me it had been a clean through and through.
It had missed the bone, missed major arteries. I’d live.
Noelle knelt beside me on the cold asphalt, her hands shaking as she pressed them against my chest.
Blood seeped between her fingers, and her face drained of color. “Fuck, Bishop. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine.” My voice came out rough, but she was used to that.
The pain was manageable.
Watching her fall apart over me?
That hit differently.
“Just a flesh wound. I don’t need an ambulance.”
“Just a flesh wound?”
Her brows knit together. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. Blood that you need inside your body.”
She pressed her forehead to my chest. “You took a bullet meant for me. You could have been killed.”
“I’m tougher than that.” I tried to laugh, but it drove a deeper wedge of pain into my chest.
How did I tell her that I’d rather die in her place than live without her?
Ash materialized beside us, breathing hard. He braced his hands on his knees. “How bad?”
“Clean through. Need stitches and I’m good as new.”
I tried to sit up, and Noelle’s hands fluttered over me like she wanted to push me down again.
“I’m not dying, Noelle. Stop looking at me like I am.”
“You scared the ever-loving shit out of me and now you want me to stop looking at you?” She huffed and held out her bloody hands as she shrugged.
