“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Shh, it’s okay, Eve.”
“It’s not okay,” she said brokenly. “Dammit, he shot you.” She was frantically searching for the source of the blood. “You shouldn’t have done it. Not any of it. And you stood out there and let him shoot you.”
“Knew it wouldn’t be … a kill shot if … he wasn’t sure he had the skull.”
“You didn’t know, you took the chance. And you took a chance he’d have me unwrap the skull.”
“It would have been … hard for him to unwrap it and keep an eye … on both of us. Reasonable…”
“There wasn’t anything reasonable about it. You shouldn’t have done it. We should have left when I asked you to do it. I told you that reconstruction wasn’t important. Not in comparison to—” The wound was in the upper right chest.
How deep?
Don’t think about it. Just stop it.
She applied pressure. “Keep breathing. Don’t go to sleep. I’m going to keep you with me, Joe. There’s no way I’ll let you slip away.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His smile was faint, and so was his voice. “You bet you won’t. Gone through too much together … Wouldn’t let a scumbag like Walsh get between…”
“Just hold on. Those helicopters are closer, almost on top of us. They should— Joe!” His eyes were closing. “Don’t do that!”
“I won’t let you down. Promise. Just for a little while…”
He was unconscious.
But not dead, she thought frantically. She could feel the beat of his heart beneath her hand. He was alive, and he’d stay alive.
She wouldn’t let him go.
*
Son of a bitch.
Walsh’s foot slammed down on the accelerator, and the car jumped forward.
He could feel the blood trickling down his cheek and the searing sting from the bullet Eve Duncan had fired at him. An inch more, and the bitch would have blown his head off.
She had taunted him and gotten in his way, then had almost killed him.
The rage was tearing through him. It wasn’t enough that he had, at last, probably taken down Joe Quinn. He had to have Eve Duncan. He had to show her how superior he was to her. He wanted to crush her, destroy everyone she cared about, then show her how much pain he could inflict.
Die.
She had to die.
In the most agonizing way possible.
CALIFORNIA PACIFIC MEDICAL CENTER
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
“You look … beautiful,” Joe said.
Eve opened her eyes and leaned forward in her chair toward the hospital bed. “Awake at last? You must still be woozy from the anesthesia if you think that.” She took his hand. “The surgeon said that the operation went very well, and you’re definitely out of danger. How do you feel?”
“You are beautiful. More … beautiful than usual.”
She chuckled. “I’ve already addressed that comment. No one but you would ever think I’m anything but interesting-looking, and it’s so dim in here, I’m sure you can barely see me. Now let’s talk about—”
“Interesting is beautiful.” He smiled. “And I can see you well enough to see your strength and the way you hold your head and the set of your lips. I think I was dreaming about you before I came around, and you defied every expectation. You always defy expectations.”
“Bullshit.” But even recovering from surgery, Joe was behaving oddly. “What is this all about, Joe?”
He chuckled. “How suspicious. Every word is true.”
“And?”
“Maybe I wanted to distract you a little from agonizing over this wound that’s causing me a few problems. When I opened my eyes, I could see all the strain and the edginess.”
“A few problems?” she said harshly. “You were out of control. You could have been killed.”