“Ricky must have been scared to death.”
“He was shaken up. Ed and the other cop protected him and then the club surrounded the family.”
A shooting. Her stomach tumbled to her toes. Trevor had been in a shooting. “You said there was no danger.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be. But this really was the first time something like this happened. At least around here.”
“You could have been shot. You could have died.”
He’s gone, Jedidiah.
No! Frantically, she felt for a pulse. Do something! He’s not dead, he’s not. But he was. The gang was gone but they’d left Noah in the dirt, like so much trash. Dead. Murdered. Executed. Two shots to the back of his head.
Come on. We’ll take care of him. Her fellow agent put his arm around her and dragged her away.
“Jedidiah? Are you okay?”
Memories swamped her. She felt sick, wanted to vomit. Her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe. Sweat started rolling down her face. She put her head between her knees.God, no. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again. Never again.
“Jedidiah, what’s happening?”
She felt his hands on her shoulders. She stayed as she was. There was a roaring in her ears. “Paper bag,” she gasped out.
Trevor left and came back moments later, handing her a brown paper sack. She buried her face into it and breathed. In. Out. Slowly. Gradually the panic receded. It was still there but she could handle it.
“That sack smells like onions.”
