As Elvis was about to turn to Delaney, he saw the back window of the second vehicle ease downward and then the barrel of a gun pointed out.
“Gun!” he yelled as he jerked in front of Delaney, pulling her down behind him.
He heard the shot a fraction of a second before Donovan made a sound that wasn’t a word and more of a grunt. The marshal hit the sidewalk, blood coming through his fingers and spreading across his shirt.
“Deke!” Delaney called out as she jerked herself out of Elvis’s grasp.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DELANEY HAD SEEN BLOOD before, but not like this, and not oozing out of someone she cared about. She dropped to her knees on the sidewalk beside Donovan, and her hands found the wound before conscious thought completed itself. The bullet had hit him below the vest, which meant the vest had done nothing for him. She couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or dumb luck, but neither option made the next few minutes any less urgent.
“Deke.” She pressed both palms hard against his side, not sure where she knew to do that. Probably some television show. She felt the warmth of the blood as it tried to get past her fingers, covering her palms. “Stay with me, Deke. Look at me.”
His eyes found hers, and she could tell that even though he seemed focused, that focus cost him some significant effort when it shouldn’t have cost him anything at all.
“I see you,” he said, his voice hoarse as he tried to force a smile.
“Good. Keep those eyes on me.”
He rested his head against the building, and she could tell he relied on the brick to hold him up more than he probably wanted. His hand, the one not pressed over the wound with hers, lay open against the pavement in a way that struck her as deeplywrong. His hands were never open, never unguarded, but rather always ready for whatever came next.
She pressed on the wound harder, blood seeping between her fingers.
He made a grunt that was controlled and quiet, letting her know he hurt like hell.
“I know,” she said. “I know. Keep looking at me, though.”
Behind her, organized chaos filled the street. Someone had shot the man in the SUV who had shot Donovan. Or several someones; she couldn’t remember what happened as her attention was purely on Donovan. Now, Dane, his voice low and precise, called out instructions that were followed without discussion as his team moved Leon’s men over beside him by the wall. She watched as Bobby’s teammates moved with the efficient, unhurried motions of people who had done this before, finding it uninteresting, just another day, another idiot causing trouble. She noticed it out of the corner of her eye, the way she took notice of the traffic or weather, information that was there but not important right at that moment.
For her, the chief concern was the man on the sidewalk, spilling blood between her fingers.
Bobby stepped up beside her, his presence felt before she saw him, the air changing whenever he was close. He crouched at her side, his phone in one hand as he moved his gaze between her face and the wound with the swift, assessing look that never quite left him.
“Ambulance is coming,” she heard him say without looking at him. “Two minutes out.”
She nodded, her focus still on the marshal. “They hit him below the vest. They had to have known he was wearing one.”
Bobby pressed his lips together in a tight line, but said nothing, as he gave her a curt nod.
Donovan’s eyes had drifted, and she put her hand briefly against his face, turning him back to look at her. “Still here,” she said, her tone firm. “Two minutes, Deke. The ambulance will be here in two minutes. You can be a tough bastard for two more minutes; I’ve seen you manage it for days at a time, so I know.”
Something almost resembling a smile flittered across his face. “Delaney,” he whispered, his voice dry, distant.
“Don’t.” Her throat closed around the word as she felt the fist clutch her heart. “Don’t you dare say anything that even remotely sounds like goodbye.”
A weak laugh bubbled out of him. “I wasn’t.” He took a breath that was too shallow. “I was going to say you’re still putting too much pressure on my side.”
She laughed before she could help herself, rushing to adjust her hands.
Donovan exhaled, the pain on his face easing just slightly as he closed his eyes.
“I never thought it was fair,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes to look at her again.
“What?” She glanced into his eyes, her brow furrowed.
“What happened to you. Your mother walked into a federal building fifteen years ago knowing what it would cost her, what it would cost her family. Your father had agreed to follow her through it.” He sucked in a breath, his face pinching with pain once more. “But you and your sister…” He blew out another breath. “You didn’t get a choice. You didn’t know what was coming or even what it was really about. That wasn’t fair to either of you.”
Delaney’s eyes burned as tears pricked the edges. “Mom did what she thought was right.”
