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Shock made Bella jerk back as dark red bloomed across Aimee’s chest. She spotted a bloodied Sarah hunched over Logan’s upright piano, her gun still smoking.
Sarah rushed over and kicked the knife away from Aimee. She checked her pulse and bowed her head. “Bella?”
Bella shook her head, tears crawling out of her throat with a sob. “I love your gun.”
Sarah knelt in front of her and pulled a utility knife out of her belt on her dress. “Jesus, you lost a lot of blood.”
“How’s Logan?”
Sarah bunched up the bottom of Bella’s dress and sliced through the silk then wrapped the strip of silk around her forearm. “You stay with me, Princess.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not a princess.” She tipped her head back and scooted toward Logan on her butt.
“Stubborn,” Sarah muttered and helped her over to Logan. She pressed two fingers to Logan’s neck. “Looks like you both will have matching gurneys on an ambulance.”
“Is he okay?”
“He hasn’t lost as much blood as you and he’s got a hard head.”
All Bella could think of was Adam. How a head injury had taken him away, too.
Sarah sighed and shook Logan’s shoulder. “Wakey time, rockstar.” He moaned and his startlingly green eyes peeked from his lashes.
He jumped at the sight of her blood, but winced as he tried to move. “Izzy.”
“I’m here.” She curled closer into his side, her eyes riveted to the still form on the floor just a few feet away. “I’m here.”
And she’s not.
Forty
Logan came in and out of consciousness. First he’d been on the stage and there’d been nothing but the slick rusty red of blood trailing across the floor. Dragging toward him.
He was pretty sure he lost five years when he saw the blood splatter on Izzy’s dress.
Then it had been nothing but black and a searing pain.
The jarring bounce of gravel under the gurney brought him around again. Whirling red, white, and blue lights reflected off the snow-dotted trees and wet pavement. Winter had touched down in Winchester Falls for the first time that season.
“Iz…”
He hated how weak his voice sounded.
When the ambulance bay opened and the stretcher locked into place, white-hot pain shot through his shoulder. He curled into himself and that only made it worse.
“Mr. King. Lie still.”
“Izzy. My fiancée.”
“Coming in right behind you. We’re taking you both.”
The flutter of rust-splattered white then Isabella climbing into the truck with the EMT’s assistance eased him and increased his panic. So much blood.
Too much.
So much like before.
She sat down on the bench beside him. “Shh, Logan. Sit back. Let them take care of you.”
