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“The first blast in the back distracted us, Major,” Mark bit out. “Hell, we’ve been out of action too long. ”
Mark Lessing and Tyrell Grayson had quietly left the Special Forces when information that they were lovers had leaked to the head brass. They’d been out of the forces for several years, but they were still as sharp as any man on his current team. Whoever did this was just that fucking good.
“Alex, you’re bleeding. I can smell it. ” Janey’s voice was faint behind him. “I need something to press against the wound. ”
Hell. Her voice was thick with fear. He could feel her tension behind him, the fear that spread through her like an oppressive cloud. But damn if she wasn’t holding it together. There was no panic, not yet. She was shaking in shock, but holding back, waiting.
“There’s shrapnel still lodged in the wounds. ” He suspected nails. “Help will be here soon, baby. ”
Janey wiped at her tears, barely holding back sobs. She could feel them tearing at her chest, but she couldn’t distract him, not yet. Horror filled her at the thought of the blood she could smell. And she could see it from the dim light the refrigerator cast, the shadow of it running down his side. She wanted to touch him. Oh God, she needed to touch him, to make it stop, and she didn’t dare move.
He had already proven he would shield her from death, take it himself first. If she distracted him and caused him to be hurt more or, worse, killed, she couldn’t live with that.
So she capped her hand over her mouth as she had learned as a child. The tears fell, but she kept the sobs inside. She kept the fear and the pain inside, hid it where it couldn’t distract him, couldn’t cause him to be hurt worse.
She used to do that when she was small. Sobbed inside while she held everything back. Dayle didn’t hit Natches as hard if she didn’t cry. If she didn’t seem to care.
But she couldn’t stop the tears now. Alex was bleeding, and he was bleeding bad. He had been hurt trying to protect her, just as Natches had been so many times. The reasons why didn’t matter. The fact was, it was all her fault.
“Mackays are pullin’ in, Major,” Mark Lessing called into the kitchen. “We have four coming in hell-for-leather, sheriff and city cops behind them. ”
Janey could hear the commotion outside now. Tires screaming, sirens blaring. Alex was leaning against the doorframe, but he held the handgun easily and his body was tense, on guard.
“Alex, we can go out now,” she whispered, swallowing back the tears that would have filled her voice.
“Not yet. ” His voice was hard.
“You’re bleeding to death on me,” she snapped. “Stop being so stubborn. ”
“I know what I’m doing, Janey. ” His voice was hard, forbidding.
A sob escaped her. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t
hold it back. “Alex, please,” she cried, her voice ragged with pain. “Please, Alex, don’t bleed to death on me. Please. ”
Alex turned slowly. The dim light from the refrigerator shadowed across her face. Tears ran from her eyes like small streams. The green was darker, filled with horror and fear. And with pain. Because she could smell his blood, because she knew he was hurt.
She wasn’t sobbing; her breathing was rough, labored, but there were no sobs. The tears were all the more heartbreaking for the lack of sound.
“Come here, baby. ” He angled his body, still sheltering her, but allowing his good arm to wrap around her and pull her to his chest. “I’m okay. ”
“Where is she?” Natches’s furious yell penetrated the dark room. “Janey!”
The closet and refrigerator doors were jerked aside as Alex came to his feet, dragging Janey with him.
Then a dark shadow reached for her. Hands gripped her, trying to pull her away from Alex.
“No!” She couldn’t see who it was. A part of her knew it was Natches, knew he was trying to drag her away from Alex, but the insanity building in her mind locked in place. “Alex!” She tried to hold on to him as she fought the hands dragging at her, kicking out, sobbing, trying to wrench away and stay by Alex’s side.
“Dammit, Natches, let her go. ” Alex curled his arm around her chest and jerked her to him.
Natches froze, the serious end of Alex’s Glock in his face, hard, brutally flat gray eyes locking with his.
“She’s in shock. She’s terrified. Let her fucking go. ”
Natches released his sister carefully. He could see the other man’s pale features, the blood that ran down his arm, the glitter of pain in Alex’s eyes. But he was holding Janey to him as though she alone could keep him on his feet.
“Hell!” Natches moved back, aware of his cousins, Sheriff Mayes, and the city cops behind them. “Zeke, we have to get them to safety. He’s wounded. ”
