He’d have to bypass the security—Colt had actually laughed when she asked whether he needed help with that—break inside, and then find the office where they hoped Waters would be likely to leave his computer. It shouldn’t have taken this long. Had something gone wrong?
A quick social media check of Mrs. Waters’s Facebook page hadn’t turned up any animal pictures so hopefully there wasn’t a dog to worry about. But what if the deputy secretary hadn’t brought the laptop back tonight? Or worse, what if he’d gotten a new one?
Something must have happened. Every single thing that could go wrong ran through Kate’s mind as she watched the slow flicker of time pass on the upper-right corner of her computer screen.
But in all the scenarios not once did she picture the squeal of a car taking the corner into her driveway too fast and then the hard screech of brakes as it came to a too-sudden stop.
She knew without looking out the window that it was Colt. Somethinghadgone wrong! Oh God. The panicked hammer of her pulse skyrocketed as she raced downstairs and threw open the door.
Colt was already out of his rental car. Seeing him standing there gave her a welcome rush of relief.
But it didn’t last long. He took a step toward the house and staggered.
“Colt!” she cried out, and ran toward him, realizing something was wrong with him. He almost looked drunk.
She caught him right as he collapsed. He was a big man, and his weight nearly brought them both to the ground.
“Shit!” he cursed, holding his side while trying to straighten. “Sorry.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God.The helpless prayer kept running through her head. She tried to help him as best she could, but she struggled under his weight. Eventually she managed to get her shoulders positioned under him to take enough of his weight where they could walk together into the house.
They didn’t make it to the living room couch. He collapsed right on the rug in the foyer, and she came down next to him.
“Colt, talk to me. Tell me what...”Oh God, she thought again when she saw the stain on his shirt. Her stomach dropped. “You’re bleeding!”
Tears of fear and panic sprang to her eyes and jammed in her throat. Her heart seemed to be in there as well.
Colt gritted his teeth, clearly wanting to calm her down, but in too much pain to hide it. “Bastard shot me. He had a laptop alarm that went off as soon as I pulled the plug. I tried to leave through the window, but damn thing was jammed. By the time I got it open, he was coming through the door with a gun. He got off a lucky shot through my side as I was going out the window. Fuck,” he said, clenching and rolling up against the pain.
Kate had never felt so helpless. He didn’t look good. He was sweating and his skin was clammy and pale. She didn’t know what to do. The blood was seeping through his fingers, forming a puddle on the rug. “I have to call an ambulance.”
She started to stand but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. “And say what? That I was shot breaking into Deputy Secretary Waters’s home trying to access his laptop? No. You can’t. The bullet went straight through. Just get my blowout kit. It’s in the car. I’ll talk you through it.”
Colt had been a corpsman, the navy’s medic qualification, when he was a SEAL, but she’d never had any medical training. “Are you out of your mind?” she sobbed, yelling and crying at the same time. “I’m not going to let you die!”
He tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “I’m not going to die, sweetheart. You won’t get rid of me that easily. But if I knew all it would take was getting shot to have you admit you cared for me again, I would have done it a long time ago.”
“Don’t joke about this, Colt,” she said hollowly. “Don’t. I can’t take it right now. I’m scared.”
“I know you are, Kiki. I’m sorry. But no ambulance, okay?”
She looked at him helplessly. Wordlessly. The use of the old nickname (she’d played a “what’s my stripper name?” game once) only made her sob harder.
“Promise me,” he repeated more insistently.
She met his gaze and nodded, but she wasn’t sure whether she would be able to keep that promise. She wouldn’t let him die. She couldn’t. She wasn’t done with him yet.
She would never be done with him.
But she did as he asked and ran out to the car to retrieve his gear bag—and blowout kit—from the trunk. After getting him a bottle of vodka, which he took a couple of long drinks from to dull the pain, he was able to talk her through the harrowing procedure of disinfecting the wounds—the smaller entry wound in his back and the larger exit wound in his front—and patching him up with the military clotting gauze that had a hemostaticagent on it to help stop bleeding, something he called Israeli bandages, and more gauze to wrap around him tightly to hold everything in place.
He talked her through the whole thing, helping to calm her when her hands were shaking.
But as soon as she’d finished, he was out cold. She curled up next to him with her head on his chest, too scared and tired to move. She needed to hear the beat of his heart against her ear.
She couldn’t stop the shivering. She’d never been so scared in her life. She couldn’t delude herself anymore. Colt mattered just as much to her as he ever had; that was never going to change.
But something would have to.
