Angela just hoped that she didn’t have to tell Kiara that the worst had happened and her world had been shattered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jude gained a gradual awareness of pain. He couldn’t pinpoint its location exactly, but it was a pretty good indication that he was still alive.
He opened his eyes, blinking a few times as he tried to take in his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, and judging from the beeps and hisses he was hearing, he figured he must be in the hospital.
Without moving, he took stock of his body as his mind fed him bits and pieces of what had led to him being in the hospital.
Jim… He’d somehow found them.
Jude remembered telling Angela to drop so that he could shoot the man, but had he been successful in protecting her?
Fear shot through him as he tried to remember if he'd seen Angela hurt. The memories were fragmented—the explosion of glass, the burning pain in his shoulder and side, Angela's screams.
Had she been shot too?
He tried to sit up, but pain lanced through his chest and shoulder, forcing him back against the pillow with a grunt. The movement sent fire down his left arm and made his vision blur at the edges.
"Easy there."
The familiar voice made Jude turn his head, though the motion sent another wave of pain through his skull. Duncan sat in a chair beside the hospital bed, looking like he hadn't slept in days. His usually immaculate appearance was rumpled, his tie loose and his shirt wrinkled.
"Angela," Jude managed, his voice coming out as a rasp. His throat felt like sandpaper. "Is she—"
"She's fine. Thanks to you, she’s just fine.”
Relief flooded through Jude so powerfully that his eyes slipped closed for a moment.
"Thank you, God," he whispered.
When he opened his eyes again, Duncan was leaning forward in his chair, studying him with the intense focus Jude had seen him use in boardrooms and crisis situations.
"Jim?" Jude's voice sounded foreign to his own ears, hoarse and weak.
"Dead." Duncan's expression was grim but satisfied. "You got him with two shots to the chest. He died at the scene."
The knot of tension in Jude's chest loosened slightly. Jim would never hurt Angela again. Never take her from her family. Never again make her live in fear.
"How long?" Jude tried to shift position and immediately regretted it as pain shot through his shoulder and down his arm.
"Two days. You've been in and out of consciousness, though mostly out. The doctors had to remove a bullet from your shoulder and another from your side. They said you’d lost a lot of blood."
Jude's hand moved instinctively toward his shoulder, but the IV line in his arm pulled taut. The movement sent a sharp reminder through his body that he wasn't going anywhere soon.
"Where is she now?" He needed to see Angela, needed to confirm with his own eyes that she was truly unharmed.
"Getting some coffee. She hasn't left the hospital since we arrived." Duncan's expression softened slightly. "She's beenbeside herself with worry. I had to practically force her to go eat something."
The thought of Angela sitting vigil beside his bed while he was unconscious made something warm unfold in Jude's chest, despite the pain radiating through his shoulder. She'd stayed. She'd waited for him to wake up.
"The doctors said that if Angela hadn't applied pressure to the wound when she did…"
Duncan didn't finish the sentence, but Jude understood. Angela had saved his life.
The memory came back in fragments—her hands pressed against his chest, her voice fierce and determined as she told him about their future together. The kiss. Brief as it had been, he could still feel the soft warmth of her lips against his.
He was a bit surprised that this event hadn’t frightened her off. It was the worst-case scenario.
