Page 42 of Darkest Kiss

He just grunts. "Look, Noemi, it’s not that bad. I'm not bleeding out. The bullet went through the meat. Worst case, I'm annoyed for a few weeks." He nods at a cabinet on the wall. "There’s a medical kit in there. Bring it here and you can yell at me all you like while you make yourself useful."

My hands are beyond shaky as I bring it. Honestly, I’m shocked I’m not in a full-blown panic attack. I ease his shirt off and look at the wound. It’s ugly, a ragged, bloody tear in his flesh. He has a lot of intricately swirled tattoos on his bicep and the bullet made a mess of the once-pretty ink.

It does appear to have gone in cleanly, through-and-through, like he said.

“I have zero experience with gunshot wounds,” I say, eyeing his arm. “But I did get a Girl Scout badge for first aid.”

Rian tilts his head. “Get to it, then, pretty girl.”

“Sit on the exam table.” Stripping off my coat, I wash my hands thoroughly in the large farmhouse sink, then set to work. Fast as I can, I clean it and pack it, winding a pressure bandage around his arm while he watches me with an expression I can't read.

“Am I good?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Hardly.”

“Eh.” He shrugs his uninjured shoulder. “Feels like I’ll live.”

Ransom comes strolling in, immaculate and furious. He’s wearing an expensive suit and seems like he’s seconds away from blowing a fuse. His brother, I think it’s Hale, is right behind him, looking like he sprinted here and possibly killed someone on the way. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt and dark jeans despite the frigid weather.

I duck behind Rian. He grabs my hand and rubs soothing circles into it.

"Tell me," Ransom says to Rian. “That you did not take her to the Perch."

Rian says, completely deadpan, "She wanted to get out of the penthouse."

Ransom pinches the bridge of his nose. "You are the most paranoid man I’ve ever employed. And yet you took a girl we’re trying to hide to a rooftop with glass walls because she wanted to get out of the penthouse?"

"It was a controlled space." Rian shifts, then winces. "Private. Plus we had ten bodyguards."

"And thank fuck you did." Hale's voice is a low rasp. "You're slipping, O'Sullivan. Two months ago, you'd have shot yourself before you let her past the lobby."

"Down, boy," Ransom says, but there's no heat in it. Hale almost smiles and Ransom chuckles.

Fucking psychos, all of them.

I look between the three of them. “I can’t believe that Anders Vitelli is going to such lengths to get to me.”

“Maybe.” Ransom purses his lips. "They might have a source who’s feeling chatty about you. Or maybe about Rian?"

“I’ll find out who it is.” Hale grins and cracks his very scarred knuckles. “Don’t worry.”

I can’t do anything but believe him.

Rian says, “I’m going to lock your ass down until this is all over with. If you thought I was overprotective before, you have no idea what’s coming."

He says it casually, as if I needed to be more nervous.

I eye him. “We can talk about this later. Privately.”

Ransom coughs to cover his laugh. "Good luck with trying to tell him anything." He turns for the door. "We've got cleanup. The roof's a fucking mess. I want to know which downstairs door those three snuck in through. Bernard's on his way down for that arm.” He turns to me. “Don't let him pretend he doesn't need stitches."

“And for fuck’s sake, don’t go anywhere but here or the penthouse,” Hale finishes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rian says. He turns toward me, touching my arm. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just sit still, you madman.” I step around him, sinking onto the other side of the exam table. Taking a deep breath, I lay my head on his uninjured shoulder. My head throbs.

There’s been so much action in the last two hours that I can’t possibly keep up. He slides his arm around, hugging me to him.