I looked up to see Atlas and Sophie racing toward me. My brother immediately took out his gun, looking around for possible threats. “Have we got a shooter?”
“No,” Diablo barked. “Sam shot Ice. I shot Sam.”
“Fuck!” I scraped out, my brain suddenly coming back online. I kneeled down beside Sophie, who was preparing to start CPR on Ice. “What can I do?”
“Looking at the trajectory of the entry hole, I think a bullet hit his lung. I’m gonna have to crack his chest open. I need a clean room where I can operate.”
“Diablo,” I roared. “Get Gopher to prep a medical room and then call Bones and Freya. Need Blade out here too.”
“Already here, boss,” my VP shouted as he raced down the hotel steps.
My eyes fell on Saint, who was wrapped around Diablo like a spider monkey. “Get her in the bar and get a whiskey down her. I need to know what the fuck’s gone on.”
He nodded and pulled Saint from Diablo’s arms, crooning gently to her as he tried to soothe her wracking sobs.
She began to struggle again. “I’m not leaving him,” she screeched. “I’ll tell you everything, but I won’t leave Jacob.” Her tear-streaked and bloody face turned to me. “Sam’s the stalker. He was going to shoot me, and Jacob dived in the way. He saved my life.”
“I came out and saw it all,” Diablo confirmed. “By the time I’d pulled my weapon, Ice was already down.”
“Jesus,” Blade muttered.
“Don’t make me leave him, please,” Saint implored. “He needs me.”
I moved toward her, my throat contracting with grief.
But I had no choice; I had to keep my shit together. I had to be a fucking Prez while my best friend bled out yards away from me. My eyes flicked down her body, taking in her blood-stained clothes. “We need to sort you out, Saint. You’re covered in his blood.”
Her eyes dropped to her clothes, and she looked at her hands as if she’d never seen them before. “I don’t care. It’s his blood, so I don’t care.”
I took in Saint’s stricken expression and her tear-streaked face, covered in my brother’s blood. She looked like she’d stepped out of a horror movie, and I knew Iceman would go crazy if I left her in that state.
“I’ll strike a deal with you, Saint,” I offered, my voice urgent. “Let us clean you up while Jake’s in surgery. He needs help. Sophie’s a doctor, a good one. She’ll sort him.”
Her eyelids drooped, and her hand went to her shoulder as she slowly nodded.
A group of men appeared and, between them, gently hoisted Iceman up and carried him inside the hotel. I took the opportunity to slide my arm around Saint’s waist and gently lead her after them, murmuring softly as we went. Every step felt like a mile, and the weight of what had happened pressed down on my shoulders like an oppressive blanket I couldn’t shake off.
Saint held onto my cut with bloodstained hands, her hiccups jerking her entire body. She was obviously in shock at what she’d witnessed, so when we finally reached the entrance and she stumbled, I didn’t think anything was amiss.
“Saint,” I muttered, holding onto her tighter. “You okay?”
My blood ran cold as her feet faltered and she fell to her knees, and I called, “Saint?”
Heart pounding in my chest, her body turned deadweight, and I lowered to the ground with her, trying to shield her head from bouncing off the concrete as she let out a pained moan.
“She’s bleeding!” somebody shouted, and suddenly Freya was there, pushing me out of the way while she dropped to her knees and murmured soothing words to Saint as the woman’s eyes fluttered closed.
Freya began to check her vitals before running her hands over Saint’s body, looking for wounds. After a few seconds, she announced, “GSW to the shoulder. She’s losing blood.”
“I didn’t see her get shot,” Diablo argued. “Just Ice.”
“Well, she did,” Freya confirmed. “The blood’s hers as well as Iceman’s.”
My heart dropped, and my chest clenched.
“Get her down to the med wing,” Freya ordered. “I need to take a look and stem the blood flow.”
Diablo stooped and picked Saint up, tucking her into his huge arms bridal-style. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” he shouted, striding through the hotel doors after the men carrying Ice.
