Doc was a big man. It would’ve been natural to think he’d timber like a felled oak tree. Instead, he’d just sort of…wilted. His knees buckling. His eyes rolling back in his head. Softly sinking to the floor into a loose-limbed sprawl.
For whatever reason, that had beenwaymore terrifying to watch.
“Damnit, Fin!” The man who’d bashed Doc’s skull in bellowed as he stopped next to Cami. “Grab your gun, man!”
“He b-broke my n-nose!” the redheaded gunman, whose name was Fin apparently, blubbered as he clumsily fumbled for the pistol that’d slipped from Doc’s lax fingers.
If only I were strong enough to break my ties,Cami thought,I’d grab that gun and shoot all four of these fuckers square in the face.
Riding right behind her fear was a seething rage. She’d never considered herself the bloodthirsty sort. In fact, she liked to think of herself as a pacifist. But she knew a blow like the one Doc had sustained could kill a man. And heaven help her, if Doc was dead—
She couldn’t even allow her mind to finish the thought.
He’s not dead. He can’t be dead!
She couldn’t lose another person she—
Again, her brain screeched to a stop. The word poised on the tip of her thoughts waslove.
Which was ridiculous. ShelikedDoc an awful lot. She certainlylustedafter the man. But she wasn’tin lovewith him.
Was she?
“I’m bleedin’ like a stuck pig!” Fin wailed after he palmed the weapon and shoved to a shaky stand.
“So am I,” the skinny guy named Brady said when he pulled his hand free from under the back of his mask. His fingers came away bloody. He must’ve cut his scalp when he knocked his head against the banister.
“And the one man who could’ve helped you both is lying here on the ground!” she couldn’t stop herself from snarling up at them.
Fin blinked from behind his mask. His green eyes were bloodshot from tears.
Was she a terrible person for beinggladhe was suffering?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sounded nasally and congested.
“He’s a doctor.” She hitched her chin toward Doc who was…
Too still.
Is he breathing?
Her desperate eyes fell to Doc’s big chest and the silver piece-of-eight that’d slipped from the collar of his T-shirt to lie in the hollow of his throat. She watched closely for any movement.
One. Two. Three. The antique cuckoo clock hanging on the wall ticked away the seconds.
Nothing.
Or nothing she could see.
She’d fallen hard onto her knees in her haste to get as close to Doc as she could, and pain radiated from her kneecaps. Her shoulders ached from having her arms wrenched behind her back. But when Doc’s wide chest didn’t move, nothing hurt as much as her heart.
“Thought he was a Navy SEAL,” Brady muttered.
“He’sboth, you smooth-brained idiot,” she hissed. “And if you motherfuckers have k—”
Her sentence turned into a sob of overwhelming happiness when Doc groaned and pushed up on one elbow.
“You’re alive!” she shrieked and wished she could wrap her arms around him. Instead she leaned forward until she was almost unbalanced so she could plant a desperate kiss against his lips. “Thank god, you’re alive.”
