Page 37 of Herding Cat

She was impressed by all the organization had done for these children, and was determined to do even more than she had originally pledged to support them.

No one should grow up without a family but Mrs. Parsons and her staff did their best to make these children feel loved and taken care of. It was really heartbreaking, but at the same time, it gave her hope for mankind.

It also made her think—dismal thoughts really—about how selfish she had been her whole life. She could have been making a bigger difference in the world for years.

She vowed to do better. To be more attentive to these opportunities and to grab them with both hands.

When Tate and Garrett finished checking the car and waved them over, she took Mae’s hand. “Shall we—”

A shout echoed from across the circular drive in front of the hotel and a flurry of activity cut her off. She scanned the scene and her gaze locked onto a horrific sight. A man, striding toward her, with his gun poised to shoot.

Instinctively, she pushed Mae behind her as the first shot rang out.

In that instant, she knew she was dead—or would be, when the bullet hit her.

It was funny how time seemed to slow down then. She’d seen it happen in the movies, but never experienced the phenomenon for herself...until now.

The horror of losing Mae was replaced with another dread as Garrett threw himself in front of her. The bullet hit him square in the chest and he flew back.

She was barely aware of the screams and the other shots, barely aware that Tate and Luke had whipped out their weapons and taken the assailant down in a hail of fire.

All she could think of, all she could see, was Garrett’s limp body lying on the cold cement.

In her chest, her heart stilled and then froze into a hard ball. She stared at his face, his beautiful face. Those eyes closed. That perfect mouth slack.

No. No. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t!

She rushed to his side. Shook him. Bellowed at him to wake up. Wailed, probably.

She couldn’t lose him.

She’d just found him.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be—

“Could you get off me?” he asked in a wheezy voice.

Catherine sprang back like a snapped rubber band.

Oh dear God. His eyes were open. He was alive. Joy flooded her and, without thinking, she took hold of his head by the hair and kissed him ferociously.

It took a minute for her to realize he was pushing her away, but it was only so he could gasp for air.

“Oh, thank God you are all right!” she gushed. And then, “How on earth are you all right? He shot you in the chest.”

He grinned and unzipped his jacket, revealing a vest filled with ballistic plates. There, embedded in one, was a bullet. Even so, it was a sickening sight.

“Good call, wearing the vest,” Tate said as he extended a hand to Garrett and heaved him up. Catherine stood on her own, still staring at Garrett, still reeling with emotion.

“You could have died,” she whispered, when he turned to her.

“But I didn’t.”

“You could have.”

And there it was. The real crux of her dilemma.

She really liked this man. Really enjoyed being with him in every way.