Whitwater and Pria. “You were right about that. I’m probably one of the few people who could get you out of here, Marcus. The hostages…the woman you’re hanging onto …they’re a liability now. They’ll be too hard to move once you’re through the doors. But you already know the cops outside won’t shoot me…won’t even risk shooting at me. I’m your ticket out, Marcus. You’re too smart to blow it, right?”
Pria grimaced as Whitwater tightened his grip in her hair again. She watched Joe moving forward with a strange, powerful grace that spoke volumes to her. She sensed his anger…his determination… his intimate knowledge that death was possible for all of them, yet his approach was relentless and steady. Like the gun meant nothing.
Roughly a yard separated them. Joe knew time was disappearing fast. If the woman screamed or moved suddenly, Whitwater would start shooting. Or he’d start shooting whether she moved or not.
“Take the bag, Marcus,” Joe said, taking three slow steps forward. “Take the money and let’s go for a walk. Let me change places with her” Very slowly, he started to reach for Pria, who eyed him with horror.
For a single moment, Joe allowed himself to take his eyes away from Whitwater’s face to look down at Pria. She was breathtakingly beautiful, he realized. And utterly terrified. White hot rage flared in his chest, but he reined it. This was no time for an emotional response. He raised his hand very slowly, inching his palm forward toward her shoulder.
Pria turned her eyes toward Joe, seeing that he meant to ease her free of Whitwater’s grasp. What flooded her senses now was the intuitive knowledge that Whitwater wanted desperately to blow the cop’s head off and the robbery, the hostages and everything else revolved around that single desire. If Joe changed places with her, he would die.
“No,” she whispered. As a loud popping sound deafened her, a searing burn ignited Pria’s bicep. She raised her bound hands to her chest, squeezed her eyes closed and brought all of her energies to a tight, hot ball in her chest. She held the mental picture of Whitwater’s face as he’d screamed at the dark-haired teenager a short time ago and shot her energies outward at his image.
Standing behind her, Marcus Whitwater instantly felt like a lightning bolt had sliced through his chest as a hot pain grabbed at the very center of his body. His heart sputtered and seized causing a horrible grinding sensation to take root behind his sternum. Every nerve cell in his body tingled with electricity like he’d shoved both hands into an outlet. The gun slipped from his fingers and thudded on the floor in front of Pria. He gasped as if trying to suck a breath beneath twenty feet of water.
Pria felt Whitwater’s body cave into itself, as he released his hold on her hair. As his struggling heart sent his blood on one final lap through his veins and arteries, she stepped forward to Joe, who caught her shoulders and pulled her close. She grabbed at the pain in her arm awkwardly, but her knees were suddenly loose and the floor seemed to be on its way up to her face. Hot, thick liquid was running down her arm over her fingers. As Joe’s arms closed around her, two more shots were fired, but Pria couldn’t tell where they were coming from. She moved into Joe’s chest, letting him break her fall. Someone was screaming.
Still clutching Pria, Joe saw Whitwater hit the floor and an ocean of blood forming beneath him. He yanked his jacket off to wrap her in it. The sleeve went wet and warm in his hands. “You’re going to be okay…we’re going to get you out of here…,” Joe reassured her. “What’s your name?”
“Pria...my name’s Pria,” she replied.
Within moments, they were engulfed in a swarm of cops and paramedics. Still clutching her to his chest on the floor, Joe picked up Pria’s bloody, discolored hands. He yelled for something to cut the wire with.
“I’m Joe,” he said quickly. “You were very brave, Pria. Stay with me. We’re gonna get you out of here
Pria looked up at the stranger who had offered his life for her own. The man Whitwater would have happily killed. Even frowning and more than a little pissed, he was gorgeous. She had the strangest thought that, she would come to know him in the ways a female knows a man. And would struggle with all that would bring, but faces began swimming before her eyes, pulling her away from the thought. Someone was tugging her from Joe’s arms to lift her. She was being plopped on something hard, flanked by several enormous paramedics. Her legs were being covered. Someone was asking her name. One of the paramedics, a woman with a kind, round face, asked her about medical problems. Did she take any medications? Was she allergic to anything? Pria shook her head. Loud voices and the sound of at least one woman weeping clogged her ears but it all seemed to be moving away from her now. She struggled to keep her eyes open. Someone was cutting the wires around her wrists, which stung like hell. A paramedic in a blue uniform was wrapping something thick and white around one of her wrists.
“Sorry we have to hurt ya’, sweetheart,” a rusty-haired paramedic said, lifting her hand. “We’re gonna put an IV line in, honey, so we can give ya’ fluids and other stuff.” The paramedic raised one of Pria’s hands, eyed her discolored fingers and shook his head. He pulled her right arm straight at her side, wrapping a tourniquet in place and shoving a needle into a vein, which burned a trail down to her mottled hand. Pria jerked away involuntarily. And jerked again as her wounded arm was maneuvered and wrapped.
“Easy with the fucking needle, Mike” Joe said tightly, across her body.
“Sorry Joe. I gotta put a line in,” the paramedic said apologetically.
“No…no hospitals,” Pria whispered to no one particular. “No hospital…” Her voice was literally falling on deaf ears, but Joe’s face filled her eyes for a moment. His eyes seemed endless and so filled with concern, as he frowned.
“You’re going to be okay,” he promised. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Hospital…no…,” Pria replied, trying in vain to sit up.
“Yeah, you’re going to the hospital,” Joe assured her, pressing her shoulder gently to the gurney. “We’re going to take care of you.”
“We’re ready to go, Joe,” the rusty-haired paramedic said. “The gunshot wound…we just stabilized her. It’s best if the docs deal with it at the hospital.”
“Where’s she headed?” Joe asked, as the paramedic adjusted a thick belt across Pria’s middle to keep her from falling as they moved her.
“Saint Rushton University General. They’re prepped and waitin’,” the paramedic said, without looking up.
Joe looked down at Pria. God, she was really gorgeous, even bloody and half conscious.
Pria’s eyelids were so heavy, so hard to keep open, yet she knew he was staring at her, needed to say something more. He touched her shoulder through the white sheet the paramedics had wrapped her in. His jacket was somewhere under it with her.
“I’ll see you again, Pria,” he said. “Just lie back. Try to relax. Let these guys do what they do best.”
“Fuck…,” Pria murmured although the surrounding noise prevented anyone from hearing her. The gurney was moving and she was suddenly dizzy, moving past so many faces turned in her direction. As she slid into darkness, she wondered when Joe would find her.
For the first moments Pria was awake, she didn’t understand why the lights were so blinding or where so many loud voices could be coming from. For that brief time, she remained still and flat in the hospital bed, unsure of where she was. With
