57
“You did get lucky,” Faye informed Ethan as she cleaned his wounds. “The position of the shot is perfect, missing all your internal organs, and arteries. You really are fortunate. I mean, aside from getting shot in the first place. This is the cleanest gunshot wound I’ve ever seen.”
“Seen a lot?” he questioned. Holding Zoë’s hand as Faye worked on him, he tried to keep the situation lighthearted. Despite Faye’s assessment, Zoë still looked worried.
“Yep,” Faye returned with a smile. “Working in rural communities, I’ve seen quite a few. Drunk hunters don’t have the best aim.”
That drew a soft laugh from Ethan that he instantly regretted as it caused a fresh wave of pain. He suspected he’d be sore for a while, but relieved his injuries weren’t bad. He just wanted to get through Faye’s treatment and then deal with Charles and the others, get them out of his house, and then be with only Zoë. She smiled at him, kissed his hand, and then straightened up.
“I’m going to put on some coffee.”
“Sounds good to me,” Faye concurred.
It would be a long night, no matter how much Ethan hoped for the opposite. As Faye prepared a needle, he watched Zoë move to the counter. He’d come close to losing her tonight and it still weighed on him. She was safe now, and he was relieved, but also still filled with an awful lot of remaining questions about her. They had a lot to discuss, and he needed her to come completely clean with him, fill in blanks in the stories she’d given him, and, for once, be completely transparent. Certain she would, and they could start a proper life together, he smiled, despite his current position, about to be sewn up by Faye, who wasn’t exactly gentle. In fact, her rough handling had come as a shock to him. Cole had employed a lighter touch than Faye.
A blur of movement from the pantry drew his eyes to see a man rushing Zoë, leveling a gun at her. She spun to face him. Ethan did all he could do. Launching forward, he knocked Faye to the floor, landing atop her, and covered her body with his. His movement caused tortuous pain to rip through him, and a flash of grey in his vision. They were on the opposite side of the island from Zoë and her attacker, and Ethan’s heart hammered as he could do nothing but listen to what was happening.
He could smell coffee, and hear the shuffling of feet. It could have been the sound of Zoë’s feet moving about the kitchen, veritably glowing as she prepared breakfast. He could almost smell the bacon that accompanied most breakfasts she prepared, hear the sizzle of eggs, the pop of the toasters. But she wasn’t preparing breakfast. She was fighting for her life. He cursed his decision to protect Faye over Zoë, even as he was closer to Faye and, truly, his cop instinct had taken over, the desire to shield an innocent from danger. Zoë was innocent too though, and he’d left her alone with that man. A man armed with a gun.
When a gunshot rang out, he thought his heart would explode. Then he heard struggling. Zoë was fighting with the man. Pulling himself to his knees with a wince, he looked to Faye. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear.
“Stay down,” he snapped.
Getting to his feet with a grunt, his head spinning, he saw Zoë fighting with the man, a knife in her hand, the gun nowhere in sight. She must have disarmed him. Ethan blessedly couldn’t see any wounds on her. Oh, Zoë, you are such an incredible woman! The man held her knife-wielding hand tightly, as he struggled to get control of her other one. She was holding her own, but the man was sturdily built and she was no match for his strength. As Ethan rushed around the island, crippling pain tearing through his side, Zoë stomped on the top of the man’s foot forcibly. He grunted as he hunched, and she head-butted him hard. Ethan was almost upon them when she wrenched her hand free and then drove the knife into the man’s chest. He fell back on the floor, gasping.
Ethan pulled Zoë to him and embraced her tightly. Her trembling arms wrapped around him, squeezing, causing a fresh wave of pain in his side but he didn’t care. His side, his entire body, could be doused in the most excruciating pain imaginable and he wouldn’t have let go of her.
Faye approached the man cautiously but Ethan could see he was barely moving. He’d be dead in a moment. Foamy blood bubbled on his lips, and his wide eyes stared at the ceiling, but seemed unfocused. Faye knelt beside him.
“That’s Rosati,” Zoë said on a rushed breath.
He’d figured it was, and watched as Rosati gasped once more, a choked, weak sound, and then closed his eyes. Faye placed her fingers on his throat and then rose to her feet. She didn’t announce it, but Ethan knew Rosati was dead.
“It’s over for real this time,” he told Zoë as he squeezed her tighter. “It’s over.”
Boone, Myles, and Charles burst into the kitchen, and their shocked eyes took in the scene. Charles drew close to them, his eyes wet. Ethan knew he wanted to comfort Zoë but didn’t let go of her, not just yet. He felt some guilt in denying Charles the ability to soothe his own daughter, but he couldn’t release his tight hold on Zoë. She’d almost died again, and his heart could barely stand it. He thought it might beat right out of his chest. She trembled, and he kissed the top of her head. Charles could wait. Right now, Ethan needed to feel Zoë in his arms. He needed the physical confirmation she was, finally, safe.