“No!”
Jack commanded her lips again until he felt her soften against him, though he kept one eye on the prone figure. Only then did his pounding heart begin to calm and his anger begin to surface and override the fear of something happening to her.
“What the hell were you thinking, taking on an intruder by yourself?”
“You weren’t here,” she mumbled into his chest. “You weren’t here and he was destroying everything!”
He rubbed her back. “Nothing is more important than you, Kathleen. Jesus,” he said emphatically. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Police!” shouted a male voice from the vicinity of the back entrance.
“In the storeroom, Sheriff,” Jack called out.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Jack,” Corey McFlannigan said, shaking his head as he pointed the beam of his powerful flashlight around the room and took in the scene. “What the hell happened?”
Jack eased his grip on Kathleen, but kept her close. “I came home to find that guy busting up the place and threatening my wife.”
“You shot him?”
“I shot him,” Kathleen clarified. “It was self-defense. He was coming after me with a crowbar.”
The sheriff crouched down and put his fingertips to the man’s neck. “He’s alive.”
“Of course he’s alive! I shot to disable, not to kill. It was Jack’s punch that knocked him out.”
“Hmphf.” The beam of the flashlight swept over the unconscious man. “Can we get some lights in here?”
“Over your head, Sheriff.”
Sheriff McFlannigan directed the powerful beam upward and stood, then pulled on the dangling string. The one hundred watt bulb lit up the small room, revealing the path of destruction. It appeared as though the guy had made it through nearly half the inventory before Kathleen confronted him, a fact that made a shiver run up and down Jack’s spine. Ripped and broken boxes littered the floor, pieces of broken glass poking up through liquor-soaked cardboard. It was a wonder none of them had been skewered. A few kegs had been toppled over as well, but the sturdy metal construction limited the damage to a few dents.
Of more immediate interest was the unconscious man currently bleeding all over his floor. A quick cursory exam revealed one gunshot wound above the knee and another in the upper arm. “We need an ambulance.”
“Already done,” Kathleen informed him. “I called them right after I called you.” When both men turned to her, she added simply, “There was little chance he was going to get out of here unharmed.”
A low growl emanated from Jack’s throat, but Kathleen pointedly ignored it.
Sheriff McFlannigan kicked the crowbar out of immediate reach. “What about you, Jack?” he asked, nodding his head in Jack’s direction. “That yours or his?”
Jack looked down at the blossoming red stain on his shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
Kathleen turned her gaze to his shoulder. “That’s yours?!?” she demanded, slipping from his grip. “I thought that was his!” She moved behind him, her hands searching. “Nothing?! Oh God... when you took him down... I didn’t mean it! I didn’t know you were hit!”
The sheriff turned his gaze toward them. “That true, Jack? You’re hit?” he asked calmly. Far too calmly in Kathleen’s opinion, if her gasp was anything to go by.
“Of course it’s true!” she shrieked. “Why would I lie about something like that?” She turned back to Jack, pressing her hands against the wound. “We have to stop the bleeding. Sheriff, give me your shirt!”
Wincing, Jack gently pulled Kathleen away and held her firmly to his side with his uninjured arm. She meant well, but her pushing on the wound wasn’t helping any.
“I’m fine, Sheriff. It was a clean shot, right through.”
Kathleen huffed. “Fine my arse! This man needs medical attention! Why are we just standing here? We have to get to the hospital!”
It was impossible to miss the sheriff’s quirking lips. “She’s right, Jack. We should get you checked out. Go on ahead. I’ll wait for the ambulance and take care of this guy.” McFlannigan pulled a set of handcuffs from his belt. “I’ll get your full statements at the hospital.”
Jack wanted to argue that he didn’t need to go anywhere. That he’d seen and been through a hell of a lot worse than a flesh wound. But one look at Kathleen’s stricken expression and he knew he had to go for her benefit.
“All right,” he sighed. “Thanks, Sheriff.” He looked down at Kathleen. Her face was pale, her eyes too bright. “Come on. Let’s get some clothes on you. I’m driving.”