Wolf was a mind reader. He fingered the edge of the bandage over her wound. “Areyouokay?”
She nodded and opened her mouth to tell him she was when the sound of Goliath’s groaning interrupted her.
“You shot me in the back!” the man howled, flopping onto his side. His girth caused the entire dock to tremble.
“That’s what you get for runnin’.” Wolf’s voice was completely devoid of sympathy. “You’re lucky I didn’t make it a kill shot. But I figured death was too good for you. A lifetime behind bars feels far more fittin’.”
As if on cue, the sound of sirens wailed in the distance.
“Now where were we?” Wolf returned his attention to Chrissy, his gaze raking over her face.
“Talking about our wounds.” She wouldn’t have thought it was possible at a time like this, but she was smiling. “And on that note”—she gently traced the scar along his temple—“I would consider it a huge favor to me if you wouldstopgetting shot.”
His lips twitched. “I will if you will.”
“Deal,” she whispered.
Then he kissed her and the terrible, awful,horriblenight was okay again.
Chapter 33
12:59 AM…
“Sorry, man. I’m sure that hurts.” The paramedic winced in sympathy as he smeared ointment over Wolf’s wound and then slapped on a large self-adhesive bandage. “I can’t believe you didn’t want any numbing gel.”
Wolf touched the scar running along his temple and assured the guy, “I’ve had way worse. Believe me.”
The paramedic shook his head. “You’re one tough sonofabitch.” He glanced over at Chrissy, who sat on the ambulance’s tailgate beside Wolf. She was wearing the T-shirt and shorts a Good Samaritan boat owner had provided when he’d come out on the deck of his vessel to investigate the commotion. “You both are,” the medic added.
Wolf wouldn’t disagree with that statement when it came to Chrissy. But he wasn’t sure how toughhewas. When he’d seen Busted Can of Biscuits running down the dock with Chrissy over one shoulder, he’d been scared out of his mind. He’d known if Biscuits got her onto a boat—
Even now, even with the danger passed, he couldn’t finish the thought.
He’d been the one bleeding, but he’d insisted the paramedic check Chrissy’s stitches first. The young guy had declared them sound and fashioned her a makeshift sling using gauze. She adjusted it now as she thanked the paramedic for his help.
Wolf added his own words of gratitude, but his gaze was snagged by Dixon. The detective had been questioning Biscuits as paramedics worked to stop the big man’s bleeding. But now that Biscuits was strapped onto a gurney, Dixon turned toward Wolf and Chrissy.
The flashing red and blue lights of the surrounding cop cars highlighted the detective’s rumpled tie and messy hair as he made his way over to them. And a few of the rubberneckers who’d stumbled out of the bars—and who were being kept back by a small army of policemen—shouted questions at him, wanting to know what had happened.
Dixon ignored them. “How are they doing?” he asked the young medic.
The guy repacked equipment into a nylon bag. “They’ll live,” he said with a small smile and then moved away to help his colleagues with Biscuits.
“What about Parsons?” Wolf asked Dixon. “Willhelive?”
The detective nodded. “Dispatch says he’s in surgery now. And doctors are saying he’s expected to pull through. Same for Ricky Williams.”
“Who?” Chrissy’s brow pinched.
“The second perpetrator. The skinny one Mr. Roanhorse here”—Dixon hitched a thumb Wolf’s way—“filleted like a fish.” He lifted a brow at Wolf. “Ricky told the attending officers you threatened to cut out his spleen.”
“No.” Wolf shook his head. “I told him I’d sliceintohis spleen and he’d bleed out in thirty seconds.”
“Oh, my bad. That’s far less brutal.” One corner of Dixon’s mouth kicked up. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
Wolf opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again. Biscuits was being wheeled by on his way to the second waiting ambulance. The paramedics had taken off his ski mask, and Wolf got his first look at the guy’s face.
If he were giving it a Yelp rating, he’d go for one star; do not recommend.
