Yeah, he was. I knew Nick Basanelli, and he wouldn’t stand for this. I put my hand on his lower back. There was no need for him to get shot with an arrow.
Duke started sidling toward the back, and the short guy not smashing jewelry cases pointed his arrow at him. “I will shoot you,” he said, his voice also tinny. His hair was long and white with gold tips. Most certainly a wig.
The other guy kept smashing cases and shoving jewelry into the bag. Nick’s back tightened visibly, and then he lunged. The guy in black loosed the arrow, and even though Nick moved to the side, the point pierced his chest. He grabbed the golden shaft and went down.
Blood spurted everywhere.
“Nick,” I gasped, falling to my knees. “Holy crap.” I pressed on the area around the arrow, which was embedded in his now bloody torso. Was it close to his heart? I couldn’t tell. He looked up, fury glittering in his eyes.
“Let’s go,” the shooter yelled, and as suddenly as they’d appeared, they all ran out the door and into the storm.
I pushed harder and looked up at Duke. “Call 911.”
“Already on it,” Duke said.
I pressed harder against the wound as Nick reached for the arrow. “No, no, no. Don’t take it out,” I said. “You have to leave it in for the doctors. If you remove the arrow, you could bleed out.”
He sighed and tried to pull the arrow out by grasping the metal shaft.
“Damn it, Nick.” I grabbed his good arm, shoved it to the floor, and put both my knees on it.
“Jesus, Albertini,” he snarled. “Get the fuck off me.”
I’d never heard Nick Basanelli swear this much in my life. “No, you can’t pull it out. I know that. I saw it on TV. You have to let the doctors remove the arrow in case the tip hit an artery.”
The projectile looked deadly, with its black feathers seemingly made of metal spikes, and the nock and shaft steel or something close to it.
“Please, Nick, just hold on.” I heard sirens in the distance. “Are you with me?”
“I can’t believe I just got shot by Cupid,” he muttered and then passed out.
Chapter2
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and latex gloves, and the combined scents made me squeamish like usual. I sat in an orange guest chair with Nick in a hospital bed, a bandage covering his shoulder and an angry expression darkening his face.
“Grab me my pants, would you?” he asked.
“You are so cranky.” I shook my head. The hospital staff had removed his clothes and put a hospital gown on him, and he’d protested the entire time. I only knew that because I’d heard him through the curtain as they removed the arrow and stitched him up.
The good news was that it hadn’t hit anything important. The bad news was that Nick was truly and completely pissed off. He had to put off his marriage proposal and didn’t like the uncertainty.
I heard running footsteps and wasn’t surprised when my sister barreled into the room, her hair a wild mess and her eyes wide.
She reached the bed in two seconds, her snow boots sliding across the sparkling tiles. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his face instantly transforming from grumpy to sweet. “Honestly, the arrow barely did any damage.”
“Because you were lucky,” I piped up.
He ignored me. “Tessa, I’m okay.”
She looked at me for confirmation.
I nodded at my older sister. “He’s fine,” I said. “Take a deep breath.”
With her strawberry-blond hair and green eyes, Tessa took after the Irish O’Shea side of our family. She looked a lot like our mother. She took several deep breaths and then perched on the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” He pulled the covers away and swung his legs over the side.
