The venomous, prickly legged thing inside Fisher tried to raise its ugly head. He beat it back with an imaginary stick and told himself he was grateful she was getting the support she needed. Even if that support wasn’t coming from him.
Averting his eyes, he took an avid interest in the weave of the curtain material. It was light blue cotton. Faded from being washed in industrial-strength detergent. And a little ragged around the hem in one corner.
The triage room beyond was filled with the sounds of the ER. The soft moans of people in pain. The squeak of a wheel on a rolling IV stand. The pressed voices of doctors and nurses as they quickly tried to assess patients and get them either moved up to the appropriate floor of the hospital or treated and discharged.
There were the familiar smells as well. Antiseptic. Heavy-duty cleaner. Iodine. And, beneath it all, the faint whiff of fresh blood.
The aromas made his stomach cramp with the memory of his mother.
How many times had he gone with her to the emergency room because she’d needed a cut stitched or a bone set?
Too many to count. Until the day came when there’d been nothing the emergency department could do for her because her injuries had been enough to send her straight to the morgue.
He felt his expression turn dull. Hard. Implacable. But he didn’t shove the old memories away. He needed them as reminders of where he’d come from—whohe’d come from—and why he could never,neverhave Eliza even if she were suddenly to lose all sense of sanity and decide to give him a chance.
“It’s okay, sugar.” Britt’s accent turned the last word intosugah. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now. But you’ll get through this. We’ll all help you get through this. The others are in the waiting room and they’re eager to wrap you up and hold you close until you feel like you can breathe again.”
The nurses had only allowed two visitors back into the treatment area. Graham, Hewitt, and Sam had all agreed to stay behind in the waiting room and let Britt and Fisher do the honors.
Well, it was probably more accurate to say they’d agreed to letBrittdo the honors because Fisher hadn’t even given them an option. As soon as the nurse had come out to greet them and tell them she’d let two come back to be with Eliza, he had jumped up from the row of chairs like his seat had been on fire.
“He’s dead, Britt. Charlie’sdead.” Eliza’s voice cracked in two around her fiancé’s name. The sound was enough to crack Fisher’s heart in two and he turned back in time to see her bury her face in the crook of Britt’s shoulder. “They’realldead.”
“Not all of them,” the ex-Ranger reassured her. “Senator Chastain and her husband made it.Youmade it.”
She pulled back in his embrace. Using a shaky hand, she shoved a lock of dark hair behind her ear. It crunched with dry blood.
“Thanks to Charlie.” Her eyes were as round and shiny as new pennies when she flicked her gaze from Britt to Fisher and back again. “As soon as the gunman came out onto the patio, he threw himself on top of me.”
Her trembling fingers automatically sought the large bump above her left temple. She winced when her probing revealed a particularly tender spot.
“He used his body to shield mine.” Her dark eyes swam with fresh tears. “He took all the bullets meant forme.”
Once again, she was caught up in Britt’s fierce embrace. And once again, Fisher had to fight to keep the monster inside him from growling its displeasure.
When Britt looked over at him, he had the grace to grimace.
They were both remembering what he’d said about Charles McClean not being able to defend Eliza against a rabid squirrel. And they were both thinking just how wrong he’d been in his assessment.
Glancing at the ceiling, he offered up a silent apology to Charlie’s ghost. Even though he didn’t believe in an afterlife—he reckoned once a person was dead that was it. Poof! One second you’re here, the next you’re not—he still felt an obligation to acknowledge the man’s sacrifice.
Sorry for callin’ ya Captain Dickless. Turns out ya had big, clangin’ brass balls.
While he was at it, he sent up a few words of gratitude too.
Thank you for lovin’ her enough to forfeit your own life for hers. She’s still got lots to offer this ol’ world. And ya gave her the chance to see that through.
“I don’t suppose any of those bullets were meant for you specifically,” Britt reassured her. “From what you’ve said, it sounds like it was a hit on Senator McClean and the chef was just doing away with the witnesses.”
Eliza used the backs of her hands to wipe the tears from her pale cheeks. The move smeared the wetness into the dried blood, turning it from rusty brown back into deep red.
Before she could respond, the doctor who’d been assigned her case parted the curtains and stepped into the small, enclosed space. “Knock, knock,” he said in lieu of rapping his knuckles on an actual door.
Fisher felt every one of his thirty-four years when he looked at the ER physician. If the fresh-faced man in the white coat was much more than thirty, he’d happily eat his biker boots with a knife and fork.
How had he gotten to the age wheredoctorswere younger than him? Where had the years gone? Where had hislifegone?
Oh, right. It’d gone to Uncle Sam who’d been only too happy to waste his youth in far flung locales.
