The sharp crack of a gun brought her out of her spell, and she instinctively dropped to the floor.
She lay on the ground, trying to figure out where she had been shot.
And then she realized that other than the dull pain on her hip where she had landed, she felt remarkably healthy.
A loud groan prompted her to open her eyes a crack.
“Angel? Genevieve, are you okay?”
Reynolds lay in a heap on the concrete floor, blood seeping out from under his fingers where they clutched his shoulder. Alex stood some feet away from her, his face ashen, blood trickling from his head, and holding her handgun. He walked to her, stooping along the way to scoop up the deputy’s fallen weapon.
He grasped her arms. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. Oh, Alex, he was the one who shot you.”
“I heard. I knew he was a little bastard, but who knew so many people wanted me dead?”
Assured of her safety, he turned back to the fallen man. “Can you fetch me some rope, sweetheart?”
She scurried to the tack room, bringing back coils of heavy rope. She stopped when she realized that the deputy was unconscious, and there was a hell of a lot of blood covering his face that hadn’t existed before she’d left the room. Alex stood over him with a very bland expression. “He was resisting arrest.”
“Um, sure.”
Alex grinned and made quick work of hog-tying the man, wrenching harder than necessary on his arms. When he had tied him to his satisfaction, he patted him down, removing two knives and some crushed mints. “Damn it, why is no one carrying car keys in their pockets?”
“Maybe he rode a horse.”
“Can you honestly see this ass on a horse?” Alex stood and endured Genevieve’s fussing over his head with a stoic expression. “It’s not that bad. You know how head wounds bleed. I’m almost ashamed he got the drop on me.”
Genevieve snorted and rested her fingertips against his injured temple. “Yeah, when I get smacked in the head, my first emotion is shame too. Hold still.” She concentrated. He held completely rigid, though she noticed his eyes flick upwards when her fingers started to glow purple. After a few minutes, she released him and transferred her hand to her own temple and rubbed. “Whew. I think I need some sugar. I’m getting too old for this stuff.”
Alex reached up and tentatively felt the wound, which had stopped bleeding and subsided to an angry red bump. “You’re amazing. Like my own walking Tylenol. You okay?”
She dropped her hand. “Yeah. It takes a bit out of you is all.”
Alex pressed a kiss against her forehead, a tender motion. He drew back and eyed her in admiration. “By the way, thanks.”
“For what?”
“For letting me feel like a man and save you for once.”
“Oh. Yeah, I was hoping you had something up your sleeve.”
“Or tucked into my sweatpants, as it were.”
“I saw you move your hand. I had complete trust in your ability to save us,” she added, in case he might have some doubts on that front. It must be tough to reconcile a weakness with that natural machismo.
She thought maybe he stood a little taller. “Thanks. I was just waiting for the guy to get distracted.”
She puffed out her chest. “You know, distractions are totally the heroine’s job.”
“That tops the list as one of the best ever acts. How did you make yourself glow purple on command like that?”
“Acts? Oh. It was, you know. Just something I can do.” Genevieve glanced away, scuffed her toe along the ground.
“Oh hell, no.”
“Hmm?”
