“It’s my wedding day!” Del raised her glass. “Myactualwedding day. I’ve decided the first one doesn’t even count. Woohooo!”
I tried to keep my face even and smiling while I let Delaney do most of the dancing. Fiona just watched. Around a crowd, she wasn’t all that comfortable, but her boots tapped in rhythm to the music.
About an hour later, the crowd seemed to part, and Cian walked through it. He grabbed a glass of whiskey from a passing server and then came to stand next to me, like no time had passed at all. There was an odd smell coming from him, though. I sniffed in his direction. He smelled like a wet penny that had been doused in salt.
“What’s that smell?” I asked. It was unpleasant, something I’d never said about his scent before.
He shrugged and downed the rest of his whiskey. Fiona and Keenan glanced at each other.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s going on?”
Cian took me by the hand and led me to the dance floor. A soft, slow song played, the one from our wedding. He placed my hand on his shoulder and took my other one, but when I slid my hand down, his eyes seemed to light up, as if lightning had struck through the gray of his storms and brightened them with electrical fire. His muscles seemed to involuntarily contract at my touch. His erection pressed against me.
Slowly, I moved his suit back and gasped at his shoulder. “Oh my God.” The noise I made almost sounded like a sob, but it wasn’t. “You’ve been shot.” His shirt had a bullet hole torn through it that went straight into his body. A crimson blossom of blood stained around the hole, and it was quickly saturating his shirt. “Cian!”
“No worryin’.” He swayed for a second. “I’ve had worse.”
I wedged my body next to his, like I could keep him up, and my eyes searched the crowd. When they landed on Keenan and Fiona, they both rushed toward me. Keenan took most of his weight, and we rushed toward the door.
“An ambulance,” I said, breathless. “We have to call for help.”
“No,” Cian said. “We have someone we use for times like these.”
Keenan helped him into a seat in the hallway, then rushed to get the car while I stared at my husband like he might disappear on me.
He grinned at me. “So sweet,” he murmured, like he was drunk. For a second, I thought he might be. Another second passed, and I was starting to freak out that he was bleeding to death. I stuck my hand against his wound. He hissed out a breath.
Fiona paced in front of us, her wild eyes making sure no one was coming close.
It seemed like Keenan took forever to come back, but it had only been seconds. Cian groaned when Keenan helped him up. Fiona took his other side, and Keenan handed me the keys. We got him to the car, and Keenan took the back seat with him. I took the driver’s seat, and Fiona took shotgun.
“Where do I go?” I rushed out.
“Take a breath,” Keenan said, attending to Cian. “We won’t get anywhere if you panic.”
“Where to?” I practically shouted.
“The house,” Keenan said.
Fiona had her phone pressed to her ear. She cursed at it and looked at Cian through the mirror. “She’s not answerin’.”
“She will,” Keenan said calmly. “The lad has had worse.”
When I made a turn, something rattled in what was considered a trunk in the car. Or was it cargo space? Oh, who cared what it was called!
Cian groaned again as he sat up straighter. He set his hands over the seat and touched my shoulder. “You’re doin’ fine. Keep steady. Just like we practiced.”
Keenan kept glancing over his shoulder.
“What’s back there?” I asked.
Maybe my voice sounded forceful enough because Fiona said easily, “My guess? Dermot Craig.”
I groaned, and Cian touched my shoulder in support.
“Where’s my wife’s coat, Fiona?” Cian asked her.
Fiona laughed some. “Forgotten. Coulda been the hasty exit, but maybe I’m just gettin’ old.”
