going to be all right. Help’s on the way.”
He pinched his eyes closed and nodded. “Swhat I said. I’m goo’.” Was it just him, or did he sound like he’d gone a few too many rounds in a boxing ring?
Focus.
He had to stay alert. Stay in the moment. He had to keep them safe.
Kristi shifted her hand, her finger digging into his wound, and he nearly shot to his feet. He would have if her other hand hadn’t cupped his cheek, her thumb taking a slow stroll along his cheekbone, sending his heart pounding.
No, that was the strain of the scenario. Had to be.
He leaned his uninjured shoulder into the cement planter and took a sharp breath. Just focus on the pain. Don’t think about silky hands. Or pretty brown eyes.
Think about the shooter.
Vaguely he heard feet pounding toward them. Someone squawked into his radio. “Three civilians.”
“He was hit!” Kristi cried.
Zach waved his hand to cut her off. There was no need for this kind of fuss. But before he could say anything, a tall black police officer squatted right beside them.
“How many times were you hit?”
“Once.” Zach gave himself a moment to catch another breath and make sure he hadn’t missed another injury. Legs? Fine. Abs? Okay. Chest? Still there. “Just my shoulder.”
The officer nodded, repeating the news into his shoulder radio. When he turned to Cody, who still hovered beside his mom, the cop’s voice turned gentler. “Were you hurt?”
The little boy shook his head before pointing. “Zach’s bleeding.”
“I know, and help is on the way.”
The ringing in Zach’s ears turned sharper, and he turned to lean his head against the planter, but Kristi caught him, cradling him against her shoulder and resting her cheek against the top of his head.
“How long does it take to get help? We’re at the hospital.”
The police officer seemed to understand that it was a rhetorical question. They were at the hospital—but at the cardiac unit. It would take a few minutes for the police to secure the area so the emergency responders knew it was safe to move in.
“Did you see the shooter?”
Kristi shook her head, her curls tickling the back of his neck. “I didn’t see anything.”
Zach tried to sit up a little straighter, but it turned into more of a slump. “He was on the building—” he flopped his good arm in the general direction “—across the parking lot.”
Both the police officer and Kristi whipped their heads around as though they would catch a glimpse of the gunman.
The cop swung back just as quickly. “How do you know?”
“Saw his scope reflecting. On top of the car.”
Shock crossed the cop’s face. Zach guessed that most civilians didn’t pay attention to strange reflections. Well, he wasn’t a civilian.
“I’m a SEAL.”
The surprise was replaced by something that could only be identified as respect. “I didn’t realize.”
Why should he have? Zach was out of uniform and out of sorts. On the ground and mentally fuzzy wasn’t his usual stance.
But his family was safe. At least for the moment.
The cop turned his head and spoke into his radio, relaying Zach’s information. “SWAT’s going in to clear the area. It’ll be just a few minutes.”
“But he’s been shot.” Kristi’s voice cracked under the strain. “Can’t we get him inside?”
“Not without leaving him—and anyone helping him—exposed.” The cop offered a half smile and tried for a little humor. “Besides, he’s probably been hit before.”
“Actually, no.” Zach could remember a whole lot of pain in his years with the teams, but this particular discomfort was new. Getting shot hurt. With a capital H.
The blood loss wasn’t much better. It was making him woozy and far too focused on the gentle slope of the underside of Kristi’s chin. The urge to touch her surged through him. He caught his hand at the last minute and forced it back to his shoulder.
Nope. He wasn’t allowed to do that.
But she’s your wife. Your very, very pretty wife.
Not exactly.
She signed the license.
But she hadn’t agreed to anything more than a marriage in name only. Because she was scared and on her own and he’d offered to help. And he’d rather shoot his other arm than do anything to break her trust. Besides, he wasn’t the kind of man she wanted. He never had been, and he didn’t know how to be.
The cop’s radio squawked, the words a jumbled mess, except for the crucial phrase “All clear.”
In an instant, three nurses pushing a gurney charged into the open, their tennis shoes slapping against the cement and nearly covering the low squeak of one of the gurney wheels.
“Can you get up?” A formidable blonde leaned over him, looking like she’d pick him up herself if he wasn’t able.
Everything in him wanted to stay where he was and fall into oblivion. But a stupid bullet in his arm wasn’t going to keep him down. Not when the shooter was still at large, leaving his family in danger.
As he settled onto the gurney, Kristi grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “We’re right behind you.”
He closed his eyes and nodded but called out just before the nurses pushed him away. “Wait. I forgot...” His voice trailed off, and he sucked in a quick breath, snatching at as much air as he could get before quickly releasing it, trying to remember what he’d forgotten. “Bad shot.”
“What?” The cop stepped closer to him.
“The shooter. Had a scope but couldn’t have been a pro. Was a bad shot.”
Kristi shook her head frantically. “Bad? He hit you.”
“But he was aiming for you.”
* * *
Kristi couldn’t stop pacing after the nurses wheeled Zach away. During the interview with the police officer, she covered a four-foot space innumerable times. While his cardiologist checked on Cody, she marched back and forth across the exam room. When Cody looked up at her with confusion in his wide eyes, she tried to stop. But the pull was too strong, and she took a quick side-to-side step.
“Mom?” Cody’s voice was clear and strong, and she snapped
