Everyone moved at once. Both Franco and Rampage scrambled for the exit, leaving their boss to fend for himself. Kellan’s arms shot upward, both elbows slamming down and out with enough force to snap the locking mechanism on his bindings. DuPree reached back for the knife on his desk, his face bent in a furious rage as he turned toward Isabella.
“Filthy whore!” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as he lunged not at her, but toward Kellan. “You’ll pay!”
She jammed the two-inch blade she’d had hidden behind her belt all the way into his neck.
Time elongated, each one of her heartbeats stretching out and showing her the scene as if she were watching a movie. She saw the startled look on DuPree’s face, quickly replaced by pain as his hands flew to his neck to try and stanch his free-flowing blood. She saw the door burst open, Sinclair and Hollister leading the way in with tactical gear on and guns drawn. She saw Kellan, eyes open, chest rising and falling, and oh God. Oh God, he was alive.
And then she saw the blood starting to pool at his feet.
“No!” Isabella’s scream ricocheted off the walls, filling her ears and her chest and her everything. “No, no, no, no.”
She surged forward at the same time Kellan swayed, catching him awkwardly and lowering him to the carpet, dimly aware of Hollister securing the scene and moving toward the spot where DuPree had collapsed, then Sinclair appearing in the doorway behind him.
“Kellan!” Her heart leaped as his eyes fluttered open, then catapulted against her ribs at the sight of the gaping stab wound on his shoulder. She slapped her hands over his T-shirt. “Okay, it’s okay. Sam!” she screamed over her shoulder. “Roll an ambo out here, right fucking now!”
“Copeland and Drake are on their way up,” Sinclair said, placing his hands on top of hers and pressing down with infinite calm. “We had them on standby. You both did great.”
“Isabella?” Kellan groaned, his eyes darting wildly, and she leaned in with a broken nod.
“I’m right here.” I have your back. I love you. God damn it, where were those paramedics and why weren’t they moving faster?
“We got him, right?”
Tears spilled over Isabella’s face even though she’d never felt them coming. “Yeah, we got him.”
“Good,” Kellan said.
And then his eyes closed.
29
Kellan came to slowly, although damn, it was a hard trip. He tested his memory before his muscles, keeping his eyes shut as he pushed on the thick fog in his brain and spun back in thought.
Walking over the cracked sidewalk…stinging pain in his neck…Franco throwing him the mother of all beatings…DuPree and those knives, reaching, turning…
Isabella.
His eyes flew open on a gasp. He regretted it in an instant, when every cell in his body shrieked in pain, the ones in his left shoulder loudest of all, but fuck, DuPree had been right there. He’d been ready to kill them both.
He’d been ready to kill Isabella.
Blood. Blood. There had been so much blood. Oh God, where was she?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Cool, firm hands framed his face, and Kellan blinked through the shadows to try and focus. “Take it easy. Try not to move.”
He inhaled the sweet smell of coconuts, and thank Christ, she was alive.
“Isabella?” he croaked, his throat turning the word into a tangled rasp.
“Shhh. I’m right here,” she said, her fingers still resting on his cheeks. The struggle, as small as it had been, had drained what little energy he’d had, pain knifing through the left side of his body with merciless intensity. Kellan breathed in, taking a few seconds to register the hospital room, the tubes and machines to his left, and the portable cot Isabella had been lying on to his right.
“What…” His thickly wrapped shoulder ached and throbbed, his bandaged temple along with it. “Are you…” Damn it, why were his thoughts so disjointed?
“I’m fine,” Isabella whispered. “But you’ve got to stay still, okay? You had to have surgery to repair your shoulder. It went great,” she added, probably in response to his attempt to ask her what the hell. “You’re going to be good as new, but it’s going to take a little while for you to heal.”
His brain raced as he tried to piece everything back together. Nope. No go. “DuPree?”
She paused, but only for a fraction of a second. “Died from his injuries on the way to the hospital. He’s never going to hurt anyone again.”
Emotions filled Kellan’s chest, pushing out more questions. “How…how did you get past DuPree’s security in the first place? He had eyes on your building.”
She nodded. “I figured he had to be watching me somehow once he called with the threat, so I used the fire escape to get out of my building, then I called Sinclair from the burner phone I used on the night of the party.”
Shock lifted Kellan’s brows. “You saved that burner phone?”
“DuPree never knew I had it. I locked it in my bedroom safe after the party.”