Protection Detail. Shirlee McCoy
Cassie cut in, her tone brusque and matter-of-fact. Her hand was steady beneath Gavin’s, her expression calm. “Except the hospital. Where they’ll fix you up and get you ready for that big anniversary trip.”
“Right,” Paul rasped. Gavin wasn’t sure he believed Cassie’s words, but he was putting on a good show, making an effort to stay conscious.
Gavin had seen people live through worse injuries. He’d seen them die with lesser ones. God was in control of the outcome. Not willpower. Not medical intervention. It had taken a long time for Gavin to believe that, to accept it.
An ambulance crew hurried in, and Gavin put a hand on Cassie’s elbow, helping her to her feet as the medical team moved in and began to stabilize Paul.
A living room opened out to the left of the foyer, and he brought her there, waiting as the crew stabilized Paul and lifted him onto the gurney.
“I’ll ride along with them,” one of the DC police officers offered.
Good. Gavin didn’t want Paul to be alone, but he wasn’t willing to leave Cassie and the kids. The perp hadn’t been playing games, and he hadn’t intended for Cassie to survive.
Gavin met her eyes, saw the fear she’d been keeping at bay.
“You okay?” he asked, and she nodded, her gaze skittering away.
“Fine.” She shrugged away from his hold, marched through the living room and into the kitchen. The place looked like a war zone—broken window, blood, shards of glass and bits of wood.
“This is a crime scene, Cassie. You need to stay out until we can process it,” Gavin said because it was true, and because he didn’t want Cassie anywhere near the broken window or door
“Can I wash my hands?” She held them up. They were covered in blood and shaking. A lot.
“How about you do it in the bathroom upstairs?” He took her arm, felt her muscles trembling as he turned her around and guided her back into the hall. It wasn’t much better in there. Blood on the floor, door open, soot staining the walls and floor.
Officers were there, processing the scene and collecting evidence, but he kept himself between Cassie and the door as they walked to the stairs. The perp was bold, and he had plenty to lose. No way was Gavin going to give him another shot at Cassie.
She didn’t look at him and didn’t speak.
He let her have her silence.
They’d have to talk eventually, but he’d give her time to clean up, get her thoughts and emotions together. It was obvious she needed to do both. She was visibly shaking, her teeth chattering as she walked up the first three steps. She reached the fourth and swayed, grabbing the railing with blood-stained hands.
He touched her back, steadying her. “Want to sit down for a minute?”
“I’m fine.”
“You look a little shaky.”
“I am, but I’m not going to fall on my face or tumble down the stairs and break my neck. The kids need me.”
“It’s okay to be upset, Cassie,” he said.
“I didn’t think I needed permission, but thanks.”
“Your sarcasm is charming,” he responded. The best thing he could offer her was something to focus on besides the blood on her hands and on her shirt, the bruise on her cheek, the memory of whatever she’d been through before he’d arrived.
“Thanks for trying,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and offering a wan smile. “But a sparring match isn’t going to distract me. Not when I can smell the blood on my hands. Not when I can still hear the glass shattering, see Officer Anderson falling.”
“You’ll feel better once you get cleaned up,” he said, and she shook her head.
“No. I won’t. I’m not going to feel better until I hear that Officer Anderson is going to be okay.” She reached the top of the stairs, paused outside the bathroom. “But, I’m going to get cleaned up, anyway. I told Virginia to tell the kids everything was okay and keep them in their rooms. I don’t want any of them to see me like this.” She plucked at her shirt and frowned.
“Good idea. We don’t want them any more scared than they already are,” he responded, knowing that she was more concerned about that then about herself and the trauma she’d been through.
“Exactly.” She stepped into the bathroom, flicked on the light. She didn’t turn on the water. Just stood staring at the chipped sink as if she didn’t quite know what she was supposed to do there.
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