Run to Ground(109)
She’d just been in there. Theo and Viggy had just been in there.
The scene went a little hazy, and she swayed. Theo stepped in front of her, and she welcomed the sight of him. He was beautiful…and so alive. Ignoring the fire blackening the sky behind him, Jules gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Although he didn’t respond in words, his actions were clear enough. Wrapping his arms around her, he squeezed her tightly, lifting her feet off the ground and tucking his face against her neck. His heart was still beating fast. She could feel it where her chest was pressed against his, just like she felt his relieved exhale against the skin below her ear.
A hand dropped onto the back of her neck at the same time another one squeezed Theo’s shoulder. Looking up, Jules saw that the hands belonged to Otto.
“Quit scaring us like that,” Otto said.
“Bosco! You and Jules get over to Med to get checked out!” one of the cops ordered, an older man whose beaky nose and heavy eyebrows made Jules think of the eagle character on the Muppets.
Theo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her tightly against him as they walked toward an ambulance. It made moving a little awkward, but it was worth it to feel his warmth and strength. Different first responders darted around them, looking stressed but focused. There was a line of fire trucks at the barrier, the firefighters clustered around, waiting for the signal that it was safe to get closer. Steve, the firefighter who’d been so kind to Dee, lifted his hand in greeting. When she returned the wave, the cuff around her wrist gleamed.
“Ouch,” Jules muttered. Now that the numbing adrenaline was wearing off, the throbbing in her wrists and hands was returning with a painful vengeance.
He glanced at the separated cuffs that still circled her wrists. “We’ll get those off.” As they reached the cluster of emergency vehicles just beyond the perimeter, Theo called out, “Hugh!”
Whirling around, Hugh crutched over to them quicker than Jules thought he could move. Dropping both crutches, he threw his arms around them, yanking them into a three-way hug. “Fuck! Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
There was a snort from Otto behind them. “You’re sounding like our grandma again.”
Theo thumped Hugh a few times on the back and then asked, “You still have your lock-picking skills?”
Surprise made Hugh draw away and then hop on his good leg to keep his balance. Otto offered the crutches he’d retrieved from the ground, and Hugh accepted with a grimace, fitting the padded portions under his arms. “Of course. Where do you want to break in? Can we do it tomorrow? I’m kind of done with drama today.”
In answer, Theo ran a hand down Jules’s arm so he could lift it and show the remains of the handcuffs. “Can’t wait. Can you get these off?”
“Handcuffs are easy.” Hugh leaned closer for a better look, wincing in sympathy when he saw how they were digging into her wrists. “But why don’t you just use a key?”
“I would,” Theo answered, sounding crabby, “if I had a key to Rough Rider brand cuffs.”
“Yo!” Otto shouted suddenly, making Jules jump and all the cops in the immediate area look in his direction. “Anyone have a Rough Rider handcuff key?”
The blank expressions on all the cops around them answered the question.
“Guess I’m picking them,” Hugh sighed in mock-resignation, leaning on one crutch so he could dig in his pocket. “Come here, little sister.”
Using one crutch and leaving the other one for Otto to retrieve—which he did with a long-suffering sigh, Hugh pulled Jules over to sit on the bumper of a fire truck. He waved away a couple of EMTs who were heading toward Jules with medical kits and purposeful strides. “You’ll get her in a second. Let me get the shackles off first.”
The Muppet eagle appeared next to them. “Bosco. A minute?” The question turned out to be more of an order, and he pulled a reluctant Theo out of earshot to talk. Theo kept shooting glances in Jules’s direction, the eagle evidently not holding his attention.
“Oh! How’s Norman Rounds?” The sight of the EMTs had reminded her, and the immediate mental image of his bloody, fallen body made bile rise in the back of her throat. “Is he…dead?”
“No,” Hugh said. “He’s in surgery now, but the doctors are pretty optimistic he’ll pull through. He’s a tough little bomb nut. What the hell happened in there?”
The idea of telling the story, of reliving every terrifying moment, made Jules start to shake. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. If she tried to talk about Sherry or Norman or the gun or the bombs or Theo and Viggy almost getting killed, Jules knew the only thing that would come out would be howling sobs.