She looked shocked, but she didn’t jump and squeak. She simply gave me a wave back.
Calista laughed as we got on the elevator. “You’re going to make that girl’s head spin with your mood changes. Perhaps you should think about always being that nice to her.”
“If it makes you happy.” I shrugged. “When you’re happy, I’m happy.”
The elevator doors swooshed open to the lobby, and I clasped her hand in mine with a contented sigh as we exited the building.
At the sound of a shot, my world turned to slow motion. I pulled my gun and aimed in the direction the sound had appeared to come from, even as I moved to block Calista, but I felt like I was trying to swim through molasses. I couldn’t get my sights on the shooter and focused on covering Calista. But she was already stumbling back, and I grabbed her arms to steady her. Her face was a mask of pain and… rage? Everything sped up to warp speed as she whipped out her gun and leaned around me and fired. People were screaming and running, but my sole focus was on Calista.
“Fuck!” she shouted in agony and frustration as her arm went limp. “I am so fucking sick of getting shot!” Her tone was furious, and if I hadn’t been so fucking scared, I might have smiled at my woman’s strength and how damn adorable she was. I searched for her wound and almost sighed with relief when I saw the red blood soaking the shoulder of her shirt. Tearing the fabric, I confirmed that it was superficial, but she’d fired with the injured arm and was clearly in a lot of pain as the adrenaline wore off.
“Shit, Calista, nice shot,” Quinn said with awe as he jogged up to us. “Hit her in the fucking wrist just below her weapon.”
“Who the fuck was shooting at her?” I bellowed.
Police cars and an ambulance came screeching to a stop across the street in front of a large park. Two more Gray Security employees had a mousy, brown haired woman in their grasp. She was screaming and crying as they hauled her to the ambulance and got her inside, two of the cops jumping in to escort her. Another ambulance pulled up in front of us, blocking our view of the drama unfolding across from us.
“Seriously?” Calista sighed. “You called the paramedics?”
“You were fucking shot, Calista,” I barked. While Quinn shrugged and said, “Protocol.”
They whisked us to the hospital where it was confirmed that the bullet had only left a shallow wound, not even deep enough for it to have gotten lodged in her shoulder. I made them check her everywhere and do an ultrasound, just to make sure both she and the baby were truly alright before I would even hear any talk of going home.
Calista didn’t seem to care about the pain, the wound, anything, except how fucking mad she was that she’d been shot AGAIN in the same year, and even after leaving the CIA. Her tantrum was the cutest thing I’d ever seen, and I did my best to keep the smile off of my face, but she glared at me every time I failed.
“Knock it off, Gray,” she snapped. “I swear, this is becoming a habit. The next time I get shot at, I’m not going to be so nice with my aim.”
“Next time?” I shouted. “You will not be putting yourself in any situation where that is even a remote possibility. Is that clear?” She was about to answer when a young woman in a police uniform knocked on the door jam, requesting entrance.
“What can we do for you, Lieutenant Jensen?” I asked, reading her name tag.
“We checked your records and as you have a concealed carry permit, and witnesses recounted that she fired the first shot, no charges are being brought against you. The young woman is going to be fine. She’ll likely lose a lot of the functions in her right hand, but it means it’s unlikely that she’ll ever hold a gun in it again. So, nice shot, Ms. Lewis.” She glanced behind her before whispering, “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Calista laughed, but I wasn’t in the mood for the cop’s brevity. “Why was she shooting at my fiancée?”
She raised an eyebrow at the title, but I didn’t comment, only continued to glare. “Oh, apparently she’s the woman who’s been stalking Ms. Lewis’s boy—uh”—she shuffled uncomfortably—“stalking Ewan McKendry. She was screaming and mumbling to herself about a myriad of things, including talking about taking out the competition for Ewan. It’s very likely she’ll be serving out her sentence in a mental health facility.”
She asked a few more questions then set a time for Calista to go down to the station the next day to give her statement. Shortly after, the doctor brought the test results, clearing Calista to go home.