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I was yelling again, my frantic mind spinning, when Capri burst from the door at the front of the bakery and started running toward us, the sound of squealing tires echoing in the distance of the cold December air.
“Get back inside now and call 911!” Rowan yelled at her as the sound of the engine grew louder and my fear spiked.
Oh God. Was he coming back?
“Baby, are you hurt anywhere?” he asked.
Wide-eyed, I shook my head. “No, I’m okay.” The scrapes on my hands and knees didn’t count when he was lying there with gunshot wounds.
“I want to keep it that way.” Beginning to sweat, he nodded toward Capri. “Go with her.”
He’d lost his mind. “Not on your life.” I jumped to my feet. “I amnot leavingwithout you.”
Capri hadn’t listened well either. When she reached us, both of us bent and grabbed under one of Rowan’s arms. He winced and cursed in pain as we got him to his feet, which wasn't easy. He was built like a brick: hard, heavy, and tough.
I heard him mumble as we worked our way toward Capri’s open door. “Stubborn women.”
The sounds of wailing sirens grew closer as the roar of the truck engine disappeared. He must have gotten scared off knowing that help was on its way.
“I called them when I heard the shots,” Capri said, answering my unspoken question.
The woman was getting hugs for a lifetime from me.
We reached the door and Rowan told us to sit him down on the pavement as multiple cop cars and an ambulance screeched to a halt in front of us.
I dropped to my knees beside him as people swarmed around us and took in the blood dripping from not only his leg, but his arm too.
He’d protected me and got shot in return.
Sucking in a breath, I tried to control the shaking that started at the thought of losing him. But he was strong and he was holding his own. However, when he winced in pain trying to pull his phone from his pants pocket, the trembling got worse.
Seeing him hurt was killing me.
I frowned. “What are you doing, give me that.” Lips set in a firm line, I took the phone from his grasp as the paramedics started assessing him and getting ready to put him on a gurney.
“Call Braxton,” he told me. “Tell him what happened and to meet us at the hospital. I need someone to catch the son-of-a-bitch!” Rowan was mad and with it some strength in his voice grew which gave me more hope that he’d be perfectly okay.
I didn’t want to take my eyes from Rowan for a second to do anything but help him, yet I knew that if I didn’t make the call he’d do it himself and he was in no shape. With shaky hands, I dialed Braxton’s number.
“Baby, tell him to call Gyth right away too so he is being vigilant. I don’t know what this jackass knows or where he might go next.”
What if my son would have been with us? The thought had me panicking and I couldn’t think straight. Thank God he wasn’t but what if this crazy man went after him anyway?
Everything seemed to happen at once. Capri was talking to the police, the phone was ringing in my ear, and they were loading Rowan on a stretcher when Braxton answered the phone.
Thinking it was Rowan, he addressed him and that was when I burst into tears.
I faintly heard Braxton calling out, but I couldn’t speak.
“Here, honey, let me have the phone.” Capri put her palm out. “You go with Rowan and I’ll follow you to the hospital and bring the phone with me.”
Mechanically, I placed the cell phone in her hand and hustled to the ambulance. I jumped in and sat beside my fiancé. When his hand reached up and touched my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek and wiping my tears away, more instantly fell.
“It’s going to be okay, Buttercup. I promise. Nobody is going to take me out when I am about to marry the love of my life.” Despite being shot he gave me a sweet smile and winked.
He was going to be okay, but was I?
For a while, which felt like an eternity, I wasn’t sure if Rowan would be okay. Earlier I’d thought we would be together for the rest of our lives and an hour later I was wondering if that time had already come to an end.
