Page 57 of The Santas Who Stole Me

I haven’t thought about the pain from where Chad hit me. I won’t now, considering it’s so minor compared to what Zeke is going through.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shake my head, not wanting to think about anything that happened in that basement.

Keeper’s hands roughly run over me.

My heart is shattered. I don’t deserve him or any of them. “I’m fine, we need to check on Zeke.” My feet are heavy, and I ignore the cold ground beneath my bare feet.

Keeper frowns when I jump at the squeak of the service door to the diner, and he holds it open for me. Inside, Zeke is placed on the large counter, and B is leaning over him, his tattooed hands already the deep-red color that covers Zeke.

I rub at my chest again, taking a slow labored breath.

The front kitchen door bangs and in walks a woman with a sharp, ash-blonde bob and a black suit, and an older man hurries after her with a bag he sets down, then he pulls on latex gloves.

“Doc,” Keeper says with a head nod.

“I had hoped I wouldn’t see you all so soon. I see three, is that correct? How long ago?” The man focuses on Zeke, examining his body.

“Less than twenty, we were close when it happened, close range Glock, looks like this one went straight through.” Keeper points to the wound on Zeke’s shoulder, and I shudder at how painful that must feel, having a hole ripped through your body.

The doctor rushes to the other side of the counter and inserts an IV bag and another with blood. “Sebastian, you’re here as well, it’s a regular crime party,” the doctor adds dryly, handing the bags to B.

B doesn’t have his usual grin when looking down at the bullet wound. In fact, I’ve never seen him this serious or focused. “Never good when we see your pretty face, doc. How’s he look?” B asks while moving around the table, lining things up for the doctor. He seems to know his way around trauma wounds.

“The leg is the worst of them. He won’t be walking for a while, but nothing vital was hit, which is surprising but perhaps not entirely. Ezekiel is very smart, so I’m sure he moved in a way to avoid death as much as possible,” the doctor adds under his breath. His movements are quick but steady, and I can hardly blink staring at Zeke’s chest, checking that it is still rising and falling. Blood drips off the counter and trickles to the kitchen floor. The thin maroon line inches toward the drain, and I can’t take it. I make my way to the bathroom.

I feel Keeper’s eyes track me, and I know he starts to come after me.

“Stay. We need to patch him, get more blood. The usual.” The doctor’s tone is without concern, but he needs help, so Keeper goes back to Zee.

“I’ll go check on her,” I hear a feminine voice say. The woman with the bob.

I can’t think about her as I run to heave over the first toilet I get to. The door opens behind me, and the woman walks in. I hear the water run and squeeze my eyes, but behind my eyelids plays a nightmarish loop of visions: Chad, that woman being shot, Zeke with a hole in his chest. Movement pulls me out of my panic. I turn to see her gray eyes and lips in a line.

She hands me a wet towel, and I swipe it across my face, then she stands, looking so together, not a hair out of place surrounding a heart-shaped face.

“Hey Georgie, I’m Lee. Cal has told me about you. Tell me how I can help you. Do you need me to get you a doctor? Were you assaulted?” she says the last word softly.

I lean back against the stall doors and pull my legs up to my chest. I wrap shaky hands around my knees. How can I describe what happened to me back there? Sexually assaulted? No, that wasn’t what Chad was about. I was violated in every other way. I can’t say any of those things, though, so I shake my head, and she blows out a breath, squeezes into the stall, and crouches down next to me.

“He’s gone now.” Her grim words fill the stall. I don’t think she quite accepts my answer about the assault.

“Yea, but at what cost? My freedom wasn’t worth Zeke’s life.” Warm tears continue to fall down my dirty face, and I don’t try to wipe them.

“I don’t think the guys would agree. Cal is obsessed with you. I’ve known him for a long time. He loves very few people, and you’re lucky to be one of them.”

“I fucked this all up. Typical Georgie.”

“Eh. I’m sure your heart was in the right place. I’ll cover up everything else.”

My eyes widen in shock. “Why would you do that? How?”

“With my FBI clearance. I didn’t know Chad until he was on my radar, thanks to you. He can’t hurt anyone anymore. And that file you had connected Chad to quite a few terrorist groups. The CIA owes me now for that information. I love it when they owe me a favor.” Lee has a satisfied grin and a knowing look I don’t want to attempt to decipher right now.

“How did you get the file?”

“Oh, Zeke sent it to me a while ago. We had a strategy to release it after we staged Chad’s death. The raid ruined the plan, but looks like your way worked too. Honestly, you are smart to have kept it from them. Don’t underestimate yourself, Georgie. They know your worth, and you should too.”