"Patricia," Mason said calmly. "It's over. Just . . . put the gun down."
She didn't. She lifted it to her face, stuck the barrel in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
***
Mason rushed to Quinn and me and knelt beside us. "E.? Are you okay?"
"I told you not to follow me," I grumbled.
"Right. Like I ever listen to you." With a snort, he shook his head, only to suck in a breath as he turned his attention to Quinn. "Is he . . . ?"
"No, he's alive." I stroked my rescuer's hair. "I can feel his breath on my neck."
"Oh, thank God." Grasping Quinn's shoulder, Mason gritted his teeth as he rolled the brick mass off me. "Damn, he's solid muscle, isn't he? Freaking football players."
I sucked in air as soon as Quinn was off me. Wow, it felt good to breathe again. As Mason gently settled our friend onto his back beside me, I sat up and crawled toward them.
"There's a lot of blood." When I looked down, I realized it was smeared all over me, as well as his left side.
"Yeah." Mason gulped bleakly, and lifted Quinn's arm to find the source of the wound. "Here. She hit him in the arm."
I ripped off the outer shirt I was wearing until I was down to a bloodstained camisole. When I applied it with some pressure to Quinn's arm, he sucked in a breath.
Long dark eyelashes fluttered before he shook his head and opened his eyes. He focused on me first, and then turned his head slightly to take in Mason before he turned back to me. "What happened?"
"You refused to leave me alone in the office with my father, you sweet, noble idiot," I told him.
"And you got a little shot because of it," Mason added.
"Really?" Quinn frowned as he tried to sit up. "I don't feel shot. Nothing hurts." When I motioned to the bloody wound on his arm that I was pressing my shirt into, he sucked in a breath, and his face immediately drained of color. "Okay, now I feel it."
His voice grew faint, and he swayed.
Mason caught his shoulder, steadying him. "Whoa, there. Maybe you should lie back down before you faint again."
Horror flooded Quinn's expression. "I fainted? Oh, man. You're not going to tell Ten that, are you? He'd never let me live it down."
I snorted out a shocked laugh, even though the sound wavered at the end into an odd kind of sob. "Yeah, I think I can manage to avoid mentioning that and focusing more on the part where you dived in front of a speeding bullet to save my life."
Quinn nodded, not catching my amusement. "Thanks. I'm sorry I passed out on you. How mortifying." His eyes were so sincere; I shot Mason a disbelieving glance. But seriously, had this guy just apologized to me after risking his own life to save mine?
"I think she'll find a way to forgive you, man." Mason's lips tightened as he tried to hide his own smile.
"Good." Quinn sat up again, only to spot the bodies of my father and Mrs. Garrison across the room. "Oh," he said, his eyes widening as he went from white to green. "Are they . . . ?"
"Yeah." I bit my lip, refusing to look at them. My stomach protested and I covered my mouth. "Let's get out of this room."
"Good idea."
Mason and I helped Quinn to his feet. He still looked woozy, but he could stand without any help.
As soon as we cleared the office, a shout from the front of the club told us the police had arrived. Mason called back, telling them we were coming out.
I don't know how much time passed after that, but the three of us clung together as we were questioned about what had happened and a paramedic looked at Quinn's arm. The poor guy was even more embarrassed about passing out when he realized the bullet had barely grazed his bicep. It was so minor a wound that the EMT decided to patch the scratch up right there at the bar without even taking him to the hospital.
Flesh wound or not, I still thought he was beyond brave, and I told him so as I smacked a grateful kiss to his cheek. Then I just kind of lingered close to him, feeling safe with him beside me.
When he flushed bashfully and ducked his face, the officer nodded in his direction. "Now what were you doing here again, Mr. Hamilton?"
I didn't know it was possible for Quinn's face to turn even redder, but it did. Glancing quickly at Mason, he mumbled, "Mrs. Garrison called me in early before my shift tonight. She said she needed some crates moved. But . . . that's not what she really wanted." After clearing his throat, he continued. "When Eva showed up to talk to, er . . . Mr. Mercer, I stayed with her because I didn't trust him. While I was on my phone, pretending to listen to music, I texted her boyfriend, Pick, telling him what was happening."
"You texted Pick?" I sat up straighter and glanced around the club, looking for him.
Quinn nodded, wincing as if apologizing to me for his trickery. "I had no idea Mrs. Garrison would pull a gun like that, but my gut told me something wasn't right. So I followed my instincts."
"Thank goodness you did," the officer said. He didn't have many questions after that, and he wandered away to get more information from the office.
I glanced at the two men flanking me, glad they were there. If not for their presence, I'd probably be a freaking, irrational, hysterical mess.
I blew out a breath, needing some comedic relief. "You know, this is the second time I've been shot at within a year. This shit's getting old."
Mason snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, well, it's the second time I've had to get a gun away from the person who shot at you."
I snorted right back, not impressed by his dinky problems, but I lifted my finger as a thought occurred. "Oh, by the way, you totally suck as a negotiator."
He threw his hands in the air, sending me an incredulous scowl. "What did you want me to say to her, that I loved her back?"
"Yeah," I retorted. "The woman had a gun, numb nuts. She could've so easily shot at you for telling her you loved Reese. Oh, shit. Have you called Reese?"
"Yes." He rolled his eyes. "She's freaking out because she's stuck watching your kids and can't come be with us."
"Poor girl." I patted his arm, and studied him a second longer when I felt his muscles tremble under my touch. He was still pretty shaken over everything. But then, he wasn't the only one. "Are you okay?"
He glanced at me with his eyebrows raised. "Sure. Why? No one shot at me."
What a liar.
"Well . . . " I motioned down the hall toward the office. "Your rapist is finally dead." That had to mean something.
He shook his head as if he didn't want to think about what had happened back there, but then he glanced at me. "So is yours."
I gulped. "Yeah." Oh, God. I didn't want to go there either. "I guess that means you're in about as much shock as I'm in right now, huh?"
"Basically." He took my hand and squeezed my fingers in companionship, letting me know everything would be okay, eventually.
Quinn glanced between us, his eyes wide. "I should probably pretend I never heard any of that, huh?"
I thought I'd be horrified to realize yet another person knew my deep, dirty, dark secret, but honestly, it didn't matter anymore. Pick had pulled me from all the horrors that had haunted me, and now I could find a way to deal with it.
But thinking about Pick made me crave him even more. If Quinn had texted him an SOS, why the hell hadn't he come? I needed his-
And then, as if my cravings had drawn him there, I heard him shout my name. At the entrance of the club, he was being waylaid by a group of police officers holding him back and telling him he couldn't enter. When he spotted me, he shouted my name again and tried even harder to break through the barricade.
I hopped off the stool and hurried to him. "It's okay. He's here for me."
A leery copy shot me a look but finally let Pick in.
He almost broke a rib he crushed me against him so hard.
"Oh, baby. Shit. Are you okay? I've been freaking out so bad since I read that text." Spotting the blood on me, he paled. "Why're you bleeding? Where're you hurt? Did he touch you? What happened?"
"I'm okay. It's not my blood. I'm okay." I hugged him back, definitely feeling better because I was finally where I wanted to be most in the world. In his arms.
And yet now that I had him where I need him most, all the emotions I'd been bottling up spilled out. Clutching him tighter, I buried my face in his neck, breathed in drudges of his soothing coconut smell, and cried.
"That's it," he murmured, cupping the back of my head and rocking me. "Let it out, baby. Just let it all out."
He had no idea why I was crying, or what I'd just survived. He just knew I needed to release all the fear, horror, shock, and distress that was crowding its way through my system.
I have no idea how long he held me there until my tears dried up, but I was dizzy from how hard I'd sobbed, and my head ached. I pulled back to look up at him, and he kissed my cheek, then wiped my face dry with his palms.