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CHAPTERSEVEN
Emma slammedinto the side of the lectern with a bone-jarring thud, but luckily, her right shoulder took the brunt of the blow and not her head. Her stocking foot slipped against the slick floor, and she fell. Hands outstretched, she caught herself before she crashed face first onto the floor.
Moving on an instinct born from a childhood of abuse, she rolled to her back and crab-walked away, putting her attacker back in her line-of-sight while also putting distance between them—only to see Noah’s head snap back when Bishop rammed his fist into Noah’s nose.
“Noah!”
A memory from the past erupted into the present, of another man stepping in to defend her and his head snapping back.
Noah wasn’t shot, she told herself.Noah wasn’t shot.But he was hurt, and she needed to save him.
She scrambled to her feet and readied to rush to his defense, but like a prizefighter, Noah righted himself. Fast as a coiled snake capturing its prey, he struck out. With one brutal punch, he knocked Franklin Bishop to the ground, and the bailiff did the rest.
Threat neutralized, Noah rushed to Emma as she rushed to him. “Are you okay?” they asked in unison.
“I’m fine,” he said, a trickle of blood marring the skin beneath his left nostril. “What about you?”
The judge’s gavel exploded over the mayhem like gunfire.
Bang, bang, bang.
For a second time, the past clawed at her, and this time, it sank its claws into her and dragged her back in time. Darkness bathed a night steeped in terror. Her fear had been as palpable as the man with the gun, as real as her brother as he pushed her out of the way and took a bullet for her.
“Emma,Bomboncita.” Noah’s voice pitched so low that only she could hear. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m okay.” But her voice wobbled and cracked. “I just need to get out of here.”
In the clinic's bathroom,where they’d gone for treatment and documentation of their injuries, Emma splashed cold water on her face. The past several hours had been a blur of police interviews, medical examinations, and evidence gathering. While Emma and Noah hadn’t been seriously injured, she’d insisted medical personnel document their injuries so that everything was on the record. With what happened in court, Whitlow Group had gained a considerable bargaining chip to use against Bishop.
Who knew, maybe word of Bishop’s attack would sour him in the media’s eyes and raise Whitlow Group’s standing once again. Or maybe the opposite would happen, and this would come back and make Whitlow Group look worse. Either way, Noah needed to get out in front of this ASAP, but she was confident his public relations machine was already trying to spin things to their benefit.
Despite the ibuprofen, her shoulder ached. When the doctor had said nothing was broken or torn, she’d rejected anything more substantial than over-the-counter meds. She hoped she wouldn’t regret that decision in a few hours. Bruises were blooming over her shoulder and deltoid. She’d hurt tomorrow, but she’d dealt with pain many times before. Sure, she hadn’t been hit in a long time, but pain was something you didn’t forget.
She dried her face before applying a fresh layer of her favorite mineral makeup. Reporters had gotten wind of their location, and at last count, half a dozen were camped in the parking lot. No telling how many there were by now. Emma was not looking forward to getting through them.
“You’ve got this,” she said to her reflection and, gathering her courage, stepped from the bathroom. “Andi, hey!”
Andi leaned against the wall opposite the bathroom, her arms crossed, her gaze watchful. She wore dark gray slacks and a blue polo-style shirt. A black bullet-proof vest covered her torso, and a handgun sat holstered at her right hip.
Emma hurried over for a hug. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Noah called for a security escort, and I insisted on taking point.” Of course, Andi would do that.
Emma held her friend tighter. “I’m so glad you’re here, and not just because you’re my escort. Andi, Noah stepped between Bishop and me, and when Bishop hit him, Noah’s head snapped back just like—”
“Shh.” This time, Andi gripped Emma tighter. “He’s not Preston.”
“I know. I keep telling myself that, but I felt as if I was right back there with Preston beside the moving truck.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. Andi, of all people, knew how much Preston’s shooting affected her. How many times had they spent sitting in the dark, both literally and figuratively, as Emma had tried to plot a new course forward without her big brother?
When Andi pulled back, she was all business again. “Noah wants to get out of here before the crowd outside gets any bigger. Right now, they’re not hostile, but when dealing with a group of unpredictable yahoos, it’s always better to be over-prepared than under.”
Emma followed Andi to the clinic’s waiting room, where Noah and a dozen other men and women stood. Aside from Noah, everyone wore a variation of Andi’s outfit. So all Whitlow Tower security, no doubt.
Noah met Emma at the door. “The crowd’s doubled. There are reporters camped out at Whitlow Tower, too, so new plan. We’re going straight to my estate, where there’s a security perimeter, and we’ll hang there until I know you’re safe.”
“Do you really think all that’s necessary?”
