54
Pain tore through Ethan’s side where he’d caught a bullet, but he was about to die so the wound was of little concern. They’d tried their best but, outmanned and outgunned, it wasn’t enough. Zoë trembled in his arms, and he pressed his head against hers. Gunpowder filled his nose but he tried to ignore it to catch a whiff of Zoë. Sure enough, concentrating did the trick. He could detect her scent, the warm, comforting smell of her perfect skin, the scent of her shampoo. It hurt his side to tighten his hold on her but he did it anyway. His eyes burned with angry tears. Rosati had denied him a future with Zoë, the ability to marry, have children, and grow old together. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a life partner, he was holding the fruition of his dreams in his arms, and it was all about to end. Although furious at the thought of dying, doing so while holding Zoë suited him just fine, and he squeezed her tighter as he waited for the bullet that would end his life.
Bullets blasted the logs of the house. It was only a matter of time before they penetrated the wood, then his body, and then hers. He wished they’d stop in his, but he didn’t provide nearly the protection the logs did, and their integrity was fading fast. Another few minutes would reduce them to the effectiveness of plywood. He had precious time left with Zoë. Breathing deeply, he wanted his last moment spent with her in his arms, and her wondrous scent in his nostrils.
The gunfire ended with a few sporadic shots and he distantly heard Charles’s voice shouting out orders. Oh, thank God! The others had returned in time to take out the shooters. It was over and, miraculously, they were all safe. Were they? Still clutching Zoë, knowing she was uninjured, he turned to see the other men in the room. Sawyer was unhurt. He looked a little dazed but that was to be expected. Gord, a few scratches on his face, helped Terry to his feet and then inspected a bleeding wound on the constable’s arm. He might have been grazed by a bullet or hit by flying glass. Either way, the injury looked to be minor. Zoë stirred in his arms, and he loosened his hold on her. She looked at him in awe, as if not believing they were safe. His side afire, his ears ringing harshly, he smiled. They’d made it.
“It’s over.”
His voice sounded weird, as did the other noises that reached his ears, those of the men outside responding to Charles’s orders, the soft tinkling of glass as shards continued to fall from the smashed windowpanes, the sounds of the other men in the room drawing closer to him and Zoë, all of it sounding as if he were underwater. He looked around the haze-filled room. Gunpowder was still heavy in the air, feathers, and bits of material from destroyed pillows and furniture floated to the floor. It was a disaster and he didn’t care a whit. Zoë was safe. He grunted as she scrambled back from him, brushing his side. He wanted to grab for her again, to hold her close to him, his wound be damned, but he let her go. Since when could he control her? His lips twitched with humour. His stubborn, forceful, amazing girlfriend always did what she wanted to. She twisted to face him, kneeling in the wreckage that littered the floor, her hands reaching out as her eyes fell on his side.
“Careful, there’s glass everywhere,” he cautioned.
Her eyes widened before she clamped her hands on his wound, causing him to stifle a gasp. Fuck, that hurt!
“Cole!” she screamed out.
He could tell she’d yelled but again her voice sounded distant and muffled. Wishing his damn ears would stop ringing, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were watery, and the sight brought tears to his.
“It’s not too bad, I think,” she said uncertainly.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Don’t worry.”
“You’re shot. Ethan, you’re hurt. Because of me.”
“Stop that.” A firmer tone than he thought he’d be able to muster, it seemed to get through to her. “I told you before, none of this is your fault.”
Cole raced up to them, and dropped to his knees beside Zoë.
“Watch the glass,” Ethan cautioned again.
“Move your hands,” Cole told Zoë gently.
She did, and the relief Ethan experienced died shortly after when Cole’s not-nearly-as-gentle hands lifted his shirt and then pressed his side, front and back. Biting his lip, he wished Cole would stop but knew his friend was helping him. It still hurt like a bitch though. Concern lined Cole’s face as he met Ethan’s eyes.
“It went straight through. It doesn’t look too bad but you need to get to a hospital.”
“No hospital,” Charles’s voice sounded, slightly breathless.
Ethan hadn’t even noticed he’d arrived. He looked up to the man, standing with Boone, and Myles. Both Myles and Boone looked worried as they stared at him, but Charles’s gaze focused on Zoë. His eyes ran over her and seeing she was unharmed, a look of unfathomable relief descended on his face before he turned his attention to Cole.
“I’ve arranged for help.”
As if on cue, Dr. Faye Hughes entered the room, flanked by two men Ethan could only assume were CSIS agents. Black suits and ties, crisp white shirts, with rigid posture and stony faces, they looked like they could be running beside a presidential motorcade. He couldn’t see their ears, but had every confidence they wore wireless earpieces. They were hardly inconspicuous, but certainly looked authoritative. Faye looked around the destroyed room in horrified awe and was a few shades paler than normal. Ethan thought she looked like she needed a doctor.
“Here, apply pressure, I’d better tell poor Faye what’s going on here,” Cole instructed Zoë, then got to his feet and rushed to Faye.
Zoë took his place. Her troubled eyes met Ethan’s. Brimming with tears, they cut through him. He wanted all these people gone, wishing it was just the two of them in the house, as usual. Then he could take her in his arms, embrace away her worry, kiss away her fears, and convince her he was fine. Except he wasn’t. He was a little woozy now. It’s just the aftermath of the adrenaline surge, he told himself, you’re fine.
“Do you think you need a hospital? I’ll talk to my dad,” she said softly.
“No, I’ll be okay.” Cole had said the bullet went through him, which was good news. If Faye could confirm it hadn’t hit anything vital within him, and he doubted it, believing he’d feel much worse if that was the case, he didn’t see the necessity of a hospital visit. She could stitch him up here. Besides, spending time in a hospital would take him away from the only place he wanted to be, by Zoë’s side.
Faye and Cole joined them, and Zoë moved to allow Faye to kneel beside Ethan. He wanted to comment on the glass again but no one else had heeded his warning. Faye’s shocked expression morphed into a rigid professionalism as she examined both sides of his wound.
“I’m confident the bullet went right through, but I’d like you to go to the hospital for x-rays to be sure.”
“No hospital,” Charles announced again, with authority. Faye’s head whipped up and her expression told Ethan she understood Charles was in control of the situation. Her voice was cautious but determined when she replied to him.
“He needs to go to a hospital. While I doubt it, I can’t be sure there aren’t internal injuries. The bullet could have left fragments inside him that could cause further damage, and lead to infection.”
“Yes, but you and I both know that isn’t the case here. You’re a doctor, and I’ve seen enough bullet wounds to know just how lucky Collins is. When my men retrieved you and kept you at the ready, you were told your skills would be needed here, at the ranch, not in a hospital setting.”
“And if he’d actually needed a hospital?” she challenged.
“We would’ve dealt with that. As it stands, we don’t need to.”
The finality in his voice had her sighing as she turned her attention back to Ethan. “I need a cleaner place to patch you up. Do you think you can stand? Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”
“I can get up,” he told her. However, knowing how painfully he’d move, and not wishing to alarm Zoë further, he looked to Boone. He wasn’t surprised when Boone moved forward, able to read the silent plea in his eyes, although he didn’t care for the look in Boone’s. His friend looked scared, even if he tried to hide it. The fear was for him, Ethan knew, and could only imagine his present injured state dredged up bad memories for Boone, the witness to the horrific injuries he’d suffered years ago.
“I got him,” Boone announced in an easy tone, one certain not to alert anyone present.
Ethan bit back a cry as Boone gently pulled him to his feet. Pain seared through his side and he pressed his lips together tightly. Feeling incredibly unsteady, he threw an arm around Boone’s shoulder as his friend slouched dramatically to allow the movement. As Boone slowly moved forward, Ethan leaned heavily against him.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Boone said.
As they made their way, he bit his lip hard. Walking was extremely painful but now that he was moving, he was convinced the injury wasn’t severe. Grateful for the chance to remain on the ranch and have Faye tend to him, even more so for Boone’s help, he flashed his friend a grin.
“You got lucky again,” Boone said quietly.
“And you got my back again. Thank you.”
Boone returned the grin. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped making a habit of this.”
He chuckled. Oh shit, that really hurt. Still, he appreciated Boone’s attempt to lighten the mood. As the pain ebbed somewhat, he could feel the tension from Zoë who, with Faye, followed closely behind. Now anxious to get the medical treatment over with, he quickened his pace.