Seconds to Live

by Susan Sleeman

  CHAPTER 16

  SEAN STOMPED THE GAS PEDAL. He could hardly breathe, knowing Taylor had taken a bullet. And most every officer who’d been shot said the wound was just a scratch when in fact it was often far more serious than that. While Dustee was still in peril, Taylor would do that for sure. She’d give her life for Dustee, and Sean was worried that might happen tonight.

  He cranked the wheel hard left, regretting that the sharp turn added to her pain, but he had to quickly get them off the road and into a safe location. He took the final turn nearly on two wheels, then shot through the open gate. Officers with guns raised protected the entrance. Sean slammed on the brakes to make the hard turn into the police precinct’s repair bay, bringing them to a rocking stop. The large garage door whirred down behind the SUV.

  Sean didn’t let a heartbeat pass, but was out of the vehicle and opening the back door.

  “Taylor?” He ran his gaze over her body and cringed at the telltale dark blotch on her jacket.

  She sat up. “Let’s get Dustee inside. That bullet was meant for her, and I need to make sure she’s safe from another one.”

  Sean pointed at the blood. “Your arm.”

  “Will have to wait.” She scrambled from the seat and pushed him out of the way to help Dustee exit the vehicle.

  “Where to?” Sean asked the nearest officer.

  The burly guy crooked his finger. “Follow me.”

  Taylor took a silent, wide-eyed Dustee by the arm and got her moving while continuing to survey their surroundings. As did Sean, who charged ahead on the other side of Dustee.

  They moved into a hallway, where the officer rushed across the tile floor and opened a door. “In here.”

  Taylor raced ahead of Sean and shoved Dustee into the small interview room and into a chair. Once Dustee sat, Taylor let out a shaky burst of air.

  “You think that Phantom shot at me?” Dustee’s high-pitched tone hinted at impending panic.

  “Yes, but you’re safe now so try to relax.” Taylor squeezed Dustee’s hand and gave her a smile, though her face was pinched with pain.

  Sean watched them, getting angry at Dustee’s ongoing neediness, expecting Taylor to help even after she’d been shot. But Dustee had come to expect such quality care from Taylor. She was ready to drop to the floor but insisted on calming her witness first. “We need to treat your arm, Taylor.” He tried to sound gentle, caring, but his words came out like a barked command.

  She took a long breath. Then another. Her adrenaline was likely wearing off and the pain in her arm settling in. “Maybe you’re right. The room is spinning, and I’m nauseous.” She dropped into a chair and looked up at him. “I think I’d like to see that medic now.”

  Where was the guy?

  “Be right back.” Sean pushed past Cam, who was hovering in the doorway.

  “Medic!” he called at the top of his lungs in the hallway. “In here, now!”

  Even if he didn’t know he was overreacting, the looks he got from the other officers told him he was behaving like a crazed man. His outburst was senseless, especially when he didn’t even know if the ambulance had arrived. So what? Taylor had been shot. He could’ve lost her. She’d come to mean so much to him, and he couldn’t stand to see her bleeding. Or the pain tightening her face. He couldn’t care less about bringing Phantom to justice right now. Sean simply wanted to watch over Taylor and keep her safe.

  How had he reached this point, so far removed from who he was?

  Was God leading him in a new direction, or was Sean just giving in to his feelings when he should be focusing on his job? After all, even if he was inclined to get involved with a woman, he didn’t have time for a relationship. He was too busy apprehending the criminals of the world and making them pay. Criminals like Phantom.

  The officer who’d escorted them stepped calmly into the hallway. “Ambulance is a few minutes out.”

  Sean didn’t want to wait a few minutes, but he had no choice. “My associate took a bullet. Get the medic down to us the second he arrives.” Sean returned to the room to update Taylor. He found her trying to remove her jacket and wincing.

  “Here, let me help,” Dustee said, sounding so like Dianne that Sean had to blink a few times to be sure he was seeing the right twin.

  She got up and eased Taylor’s uninjured arm from the jacket. “Now, can you slide it down the wounded one?”

  “I can try.”

  “It might hurt.”

  “That’s okay. The medic has to see my arm.” Taylor gritted her teeth.

  “But they have scissors,” Sean said, now at her side again. “They’re a few minutes out yet. Why not wait?”

  “And let them cut my leather jacket? Are you kidding?” Taylor looked up at him. “Besides, I want to make sure the bleeding has stopped.”

  “Then let me help you.” He waved Dustee away, and she didn’t protest. He took the collar of Taylor’s jacket in his hands and stopped to look down at her. The pain still registered in her gaze but was tempered by emotions he couldn’t put a name to. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

  A weak smile tipped her lips. “Don’t worry. It’s got to be done.”

  He gave a firm nod of resolve as he slowly brought the jacket down her arm.

  She bit her lip and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths.

  “Imagine a happy place and tell me about it.” He lowered the sleeve inch by inch.

  “I’m in a lovely field of lavender,” she said, her voice dreamy. “The sweet smell is wrapping around me.”

  He was amazed at her ability to conjure up a beautiful place while he continued to inflict pain.

  “The delicate purple blooms are standing tall over the plants with tiny fine leaves,” she went on, her voice a mere whisper now. “I can run my fingers over the softness. It’s like heaven on earth. God’s place. Where peace reigns and people like Phantom don’t exist.”

  “Done,” he announced, thankful to have that over.

  She looked at her arm. He followed suit. Blood saturated her sleeve in a large pool that also trailed down her arm.

  Sean bent closer and studied the fabric. “Looks like the bleeding stopped, but with that quantity of blood loss, you have to know it’s more than a scratch.”

  She nodded. “I hope it’s superficial enough not to cause any muscle damage.” She glanced at Dustee, who was now looking bored and tired. “I need to call Inman and make arrangements for Dustee’s protection.”

  She started to reach for her phone with her good hand. He rested a hand on her arm to stop her. “I’ll do that. You just focus on getting this arm taken care of.”

  “I’ve got this.” She jerked free and grimaced. “Dustee’s my responsibility.”

  “I’ve never had anyone fight over me before.” Dustee grinned. “Especially not cop people. I kind of like it.”

  Taylor looked like she wanted to respond with a sharp retort, but she got out her phone and dialed her chief. She arranged to have Glover come take over the detail, and Sean noticed she didn’t tell Inman about her injury.

  She shoved her phone into her pocket. “Roger’s the only one I can trust in the office now, and I want you to escort them back to the safe house.”

  “No. I won’t be going with Dustee. Cam can accompany her. I’m staying with you.” Sean braced himself for an argument.

  She didn’t balk at all. A sure sign that she was feeling worse than she was letting on. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. But what could he do? Nothing. And he felt helpless seeing her like this.

  He squatted down by her knees, took her hand in his, and smiled up at her. “You look worried.”

  “Just concerned about permanent damage to my arm.”

  “We’ll make sure we get the best doctor to look at it,” Sean assured her.

  Quick footsteps sounded in the hallway, and two medics rushed into the room. The first, tall and fierce-looking, approached Taylor with a clinical gaze. “I’m Ryan. Gunshot wound?”

 
; She nodded. “Just a scratch.”

  “Then let me itch it for you,” Ryan joked.

  Taylor half smiled, then winced.

  Ryan set down his kit and took out a pair of scissors to cut away her sleeve. He peeled back the fabric. Taylor gasped. Sean had to stifle his reaction at seeing the long, gaping wound stretching across her arm, looking grisly and far worse than he’d imagined.

  Ryan sobered. “Let’s get you on the backboard so I can pack your wound and transport you to the ER.”

  She nodded, but quickly stopped as if the room were spinning.

  “Let me help,” Sean said to the medic. He gently scooped her into his arms and knelt by the backboard to settle her in place. Brushing a wayward lock of hair from her face, he lingered a moment with his eyes locked on hers. “Everything’s going to be okay, honey. I promise.”

  The wound looked too severe to make such a promise, but right now, with the pain etched on her beautiful face, her grimace, the tightness of her jaw . . . he would promise anything and everything, and find a way to deliver.

  The young ER doctor named Pilcher probed the gash on Taylor’s arm. “Good news is you didn’t sustain any muscle damage and no vascular injury.”

  Though pain radiated up her arm, she gave a sigh of relief and heard Sean do the same from where he stood on the far side of her bed. She glanced at him to see a pinched smile. He’d been beating himself up over her injury, blaming himself for not foreseeing Phantom’s attempt to take Dustee out. But Taylor hadn’t seen it either. How could she? Phantom had never used a rifle in the past. At least not that they knew about.

  “Does this mean it won’t require a hospital stay?” Sean asked.

  “Correct,” Pilcher replied.

  “You stitch up my arm, and I can get out of here?” she clarified, thinking it was too good to be true.

  Pilcher shook his head. “Gunshot wounds run a high risk of infection. The bullet carries bits of fabric, et cetera with it. So I’m going to clean the wound and pack it.”

  “You’re going to leave this big gash open?” Taylor asked.

  He nodded. “You’ll need to keep it clean and dry, and change the dressings regularly. Follow up with your doctor in a day or two for further evaluation.”

  Thoughts of seeing the gaping wound on a daily basis churned her stomach.

  Pilcher sat back on his stool. “I get that it’s a bit unsettling to have to re-dress such a wound, but—”

  “I’ll do it for her,” Sean said.

  She shot him a look. “You don’t—”

  “Perfect,” the doctor chimed in.

  Okay, fine. Let it go. Don’t waste the doctor’s time talking about it. She could discuss it with Sean at a later time. “We should get to cleaning it.”

  Pilcher looked at her chart. “Says here you’re refusing pain medication.”

  “I’m still on duty and need to get back to my assignment as soon as possible. Tylenol should ease the pain.”

  Sean stepped closer. “Taylor, you—”

  She knew what he planned to say and held up her hand to stop him. She wasn’t leaving Dustee’s care to anyone else for very long.

  Pilcher looked up. “If you need me to write up a work excuse, I can.”

  “No thank you. Maybe you can apply a topical anesthetic before cleaning.”

  “Sure, Lidocaine will help, but pain meds can make it much easier for you.”

  “Lidocaine is fine.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Pilcher reached for a syringe. “Just a few pinches and then we’ll get started.”

  She took a deep breath, inhaling the hospital’s antiseptic smell. She didn’t want to imagine this doctor cleaning out a wound that was already throbbing worse than any injury she’d ever experienced.

  “Okay, here we go,” he said.

  She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Liquid splashed into her wound, and she almost came off the bed. Could she really do this? Yes, for Dustee. It was her job. No sacrifice was too great for her witnesses.

  “I’ll need to remove debris deep in the wound and irrigate it again,” he said, a frown in his voice.

  She glanced over to see him take a long tweezer from the tray. She closed her eyes again and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  On the other side of the bed, a warm hand slipped into hers. She opened her eyes to find Sean watching her.

  Concern mixed with compassion in his expression. “Why don’t you tell me about your kitchen remodel?”

  They’d chatted online about her upcoming project, and he’d shown zero interest in remodeling. He was offering to talk about it to keep her mind occupied. “I know you don’t want to hear about that.”

  “Sure I do,” he lied smoothly. Too smoothly. “Start with the tile you chose. What shape is it again?”

  She’d found herself drawn to him since the moment they met in person, but now his willingness to discuss a subject he couldn’t care less about warmed her heart.

  The doctor probed deeper. A sharp pain took her breath away, and her vision blurred. If she hoped to survive the cleaning without passing out, she would have to take Sean up on his offer to talk. “It’s an ogee shape.”

  “Yeah, right, but what’s an ogee look like?”

  “It’s a scallop or fish-scale design.”

  He screwed up his face into such a horrifically confused look that she laughed.

  “You have to see it to appreciate it,” she added.

  “What color?”

  “Pale gray.”

  “To go with the gray floors.”

  “You remembered my floor color?”

  “I remember everything.” He tapped his forehead, a grin spreading across his handsome face. “Steel trap.”

  “Oh, yeah? What color are the counters?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “Um . . .” He cleared his throat and squirmed.

  She almost took pity on him by giving the answer, but she was enjoying their playful banter, similar to how they’d interacted online.

  “Gray?” he squeaked out.

  She laughed again. “I haven’t picked them out yet, so I never told you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Trying to trick me, huh?”

  “And it worked.”

  “You’ll pay for that, you know.”

  “I’m shaking in my boots.”

  “You know I won’t follow through. Not on this. Not with you.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on the back of it.

  The touch of his lips sent a warm trail to her heart. He leaned forward. Closer, his eyes maintaining a steady gaze, darkening, and mimicking her emotions. A tremor of excitement shivered over her, rattling her to the core.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I know you wanted me to take the pain meds, but thank you for letting that go and being on my side.”

  He nodded. His gaze warmed, and his breathing grew uneven. Something powerful ran between them. Deep. Warm. Mesmerizing. She closed her eyes to savor the moment.

  How could she ever go back to only chatting online with this amazing man?

  “Okay, you’re good to go,” Pilcher announced. “The nurse will put your arm in a sling for protection.”

  She snapped out of her trance and looked at her arm now encased in a large bandage.

  Pilcher eyed her. “I may be discharging you without work restrictions, but this wound is nothing to take lightly. Be sure you follow up with your doctor.”

  “She will,” Sean said, still clutching her hand.

  The doctor gave a firm nod. “I’ll get your discharge paperwork in order, and I’ll add a prescription for pain meds in case you change your mind.”

  “Thank you.” She waited for him to exit and quickly extricated her hand from Sean’s. She couldn’t continue such an intimate connection with him when she had no plans to follow through on her feelings. That wouldn’t be fair to Sean. But she couldn’t just sit here either.

  She got out her phone. />
  “Who are you calling?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

  She’d take disappointed over hurting him by leading him on when there was no future for them as a couple. “I want to make sure Dustee made it back to the safe house and ask Roger to meet with me to do a thorough threat assessment.”

  “You think Phantom has the safe house location?” He took a few breaths and slowly let them out.

  She needed to do the same deep breathing, but she ignored the rapid beating of her heart and focused instead on the mission at hand. “I don’t know, but I won’t risk it. If our assessment leaves any questions in my mind, I’ll move Dustee without a backward glance.”

  CHAPTER 17

  TAYLOR SLEPT VERY LITTLE and felt drained of every ounce of energy. She was thankful that her injured arm remained tight in the sling and didn’t move throughout the night or she wouldn’t have gotten the little bit of sleep that she’d managed. Sean insisted she fill the pain prescription, but unless things suddenly worsened, she still wouldn’t take the pills. Not while she was responsible for Dustee’s safety.

  She stood and adjusted the sling before stepping out of her bedroom. She’d tried to change her bandage but couldn’t reach her upper arm without causing extreme pain. She didn’t think it wise to be in close contact with Sean and thought to ask Dianne for her help. But Taylor didn’t want her gunshot wound to scare Dianne further, which meant Sean would have to change the bandage.

  Taylor descended the steps to the family room. Sean sat on the sofa, watching his group seated at the table, laptops in front of them. His arms were crossed, and a deep frown marred his face. She didn’t like seeing the tension radiating from his body. She could easily imagine the online conversation they might be having right now. He’d tell her exactly how he felt, but in person he seemed to be a typical guy. Not overly communicative. She got that. It was much harder to express your feelings in person. So much easier to let them flow from her fingers onto the screen, where she could review and edit as needed, stopping her from saying the wrong thing, from coming across the wrong way.