“Close those doors. Nobody else leaves,” Paul screamed in a high-pitched voice.
Go. Go. Go. Grady could see the last of the women stream out the door with the kids, the door slamming shut behind them.
And then there was silence.
The only thing he could hear was his heart thundering in his ears, his rage at the fact that Emily was still in danger barely leashed. Grady’s eyes narrowed as Paul stepped closer, now about five feet from his woman. He watched as the gunman’s finger started to twitch on the trigger, the wail of sirens making him edgy. Gut instinct was making the call for Grady, and he knew the time was now.
“Run!” he demanded urgently, blocking Emily with his entire body as he lunged for Paul.
The gun fired once as Grady took the asshole down, but it discharged as the two of them were falling, and he took solace in the fact that Emily should be long gone. Finally, Grady let go of the rage that had been simmering inside of him, tearing the gun from Paul’s hand and sliding it far across the wooden floor for one of the other men to retrieve. He was seeing red, his entire focus on the man who had hurt his woman and put her in danger again tonight.
“You’ll never hurt her again,” he growled, slamming Paul’s head against the hardwood floor.
Crack!
The sound of the bastard’s skull hitting the floor was so satisfying that Grady never felt the punches Paul was giving back as Grady pummeled him, not wanting to stop until any threat to Emily was gone, the man beneath him dead.
Several uniformed officers came between them, two pulling Grady off the battered gunman and two more rolling Paul over to cuff him.
“Easy, man. Let us take over,” one of the officers told him as they laid Grady on his back. “You’ve been shot.” The police started holding pressure to Grady’s side, his expression somber. Raising his head slightly, Grady could see blood. Lots of blood. He wished it had come from the asshole the police were carting away, but he knew it hadn’t. It was his, and he was finally coming out of his haze enough to feel the pain from the wound.
“Oh, God,” Grady heard Emily cry out as she dropped to her knees beside him, handing a policeman the weapon she had obviously recovered when he had slid it across the floor. “Grady! Talk to me, love.”
“I told you to run. Don’t you listen? Are you hurt?”
“No. And I wasn’t leaving you. I wanted to shoot him, but I was afraid I’d hit you,” she replied, her voice tremulous and scared, making Grady wish he could beat the shit out of Paul all over again.
If Grady weren’t so pissed that she hadn’t taken herself out of harm’s way, he would have been more touched that she’d been so worried about him that she hadn’t run away. “Could you try listening when I’m trying to keep you safe? Stubborn woman,” he grumbled, flinching as the cop applied a little more pressure to his wound.
Emily took his hand and threaded her fingers through his, stroking his hair back from his forehead. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked, forlorn.
“Keep me,” he answered, his vision starting to blur. “And don’t give me any more hassle about the new truck.” Okay . . . he was taking advantage, but he’d use every bit of leverage he could get at the moment.
“You’re going to use the edge you have right now to get me to agree?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yep.” He was using whatever he could get.
“Okay,” she whispered agreeably. “If it will make you happy, I’ll do it. Whatever you want right now.”
It made him fucking ecstatic, or as joyful as a guy could be who had just gotten shot. He felt her lips on his forehead right before everything started to fade to black, and decided right then and there that being fussed over by Emily wasn’t a bad way to go out.
CHAPTER 5
Emily decided almost immediately that Grady Sinclair was probably the worst patient to ever enter their small-town hospital. He’d wanted to leave the minute the doctor had sutured the gaping wound in his side. Luckily, the bullet had just grazed his flesh, but it had left a substantial laceration.
She had cried like a blubbering child when the doctor had said Grady would be okay with some suturing, antibiotics, and an overnight stay for observation. It might have been amusing that Grady had actually been trying to comfort her when he was the one in pain.
It had been her fault—Paul was her crazy ex-boyfriend—but Grady had risked his own life to save her anyway. Honestly, Emily didn’t think he had even given a thought to his own safety. He had only cared about hers, and the fact that he’d been willing to sacrifice his life to protect her completely floored her. No man she’d ever known, except maybe her father, would have protected her without a single thought to his own safety. Now she was determined to take care of Grady.
Keeping him in the hospital had been a challenge, and she had gotten desperate and threatened to break her promise to spend Christmas with him if he didn’t follow the doctor’s orders. He grumbled and protested, but he had finally given in. He’d gotten even grouchier when she refused to leave him, telling her to take her ass home and get some sleep. She slept in the recliner beside his bed, not only because she wanted to be with him in case he needed anything, but because she was afraid he’d get up and leave if she didn’t keep him in the bed.
Emily breathed a sigh of relief as she got him back home the next afternoon, more than ready to be away from the hospital and the thoughts that kept racing through her mind about what could have happened to Grady.
“You didn’t tell me you got a tree!” Emily exclaimed as they entered the house, noticing the huge Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. It was a beauty, full and lush, and at least seven feet tall.
“You like it?” he asked cautiously, grimacing as he moved. “You said you wanted one. I asked the lady who cleans the house where I could get a big one. She said she’d have her husband bring one here and set it up. I guess they brought it this morning.”
“You’re hurting. Do you want some pain medicine?” she asked him anxiously.
“No. Do you like the tree?”
“It’s beautiful. I’ll decorate it later. Right now I just want to get you to bed.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, careful not to put pressure on his wound.
“Sweetheart, those are words I’ve wanted to hear from you since the moment I met you. And I’m not going to bed unless you come with me,” he replied obstinately, raising a teasing brow at her as he added, “Seriously? Do you really think you’re going to hold me up if I swoon?”