Shades of Grey(46)

The knowledge of his death was in his eyes and she savored it a moment before slicing his throat.

Blood gurgled out and then she heard the hissing sound as air escaped from his lungs. His eyes went glassy and his head lolled to the side.

She closed the knife, stuffed it into her pocket and started to drag herself upward. She hoped to hell one of these damn cars could be hot-wired or she was fucked for transportation. No way could she get back to where she’d parked her vehicle nearly two miles away.

She managed to gain her footing, but she swayed like a sapling in the wind. And then she heard her name. Loud and growing louder with every second.

She turned in bewilderment and then sank to her knees when she saw her entire team burst onto the scene. Cole was in front, his features carved in stone. He was focused on her. His gaze never left her as he ran toward her.

“You were the one who took them out,” she said when he dropped on his knees in front of her.

“Dolphin got one,” he said. “He’s not a bad shot. Not as good as you, but he’ll do in a pinch.”

She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that her team was here. That they’d come through right when she needed them most. She would be dead if they hadn’t arrived when they had. But why were they here? How?

The question bubbled out. “What are you doing here?”

Suddenly she was shaking so bad that her teeth were clinking together with enough force to chip them.

She stared down at her hands. Hands that were covered in blood. Some hers, but mostly Nelson’s. And they shook uncontrollably. Nothing she could do could stop it.

She should be jubilant. Triumphant. And instead her insides were so cold that she didn’t feel anything at all.

“Did you honest to God think we wouldn’t be here?” Cole demanded.

He sounded furious. The heat in his words scalded her, and yet it was so welcome she wanted to hug him. But there was also worry.

“Where are you hurt?” Cole asked with only a little less edge in his voice.

She looked at him in bewilderment.

Now he sounded impatient. “You’re bleeding, P.J. You’ve got blood all over you.”

“My leg,” she finally managed to get out. “I took a bullet.”

Cole cursed.

As her team gathered, something popped inside her. It was like cutting a taut rope and having it recoil like a viper.

She closed her eyes, the stench of blood and death overwhelming her.

Strong arms surrounded her, pulled her in close and then rocked her gently back and forth.

“It’s all right now, P.J.,” Cole soothed.

He stroked her hair and held her close.

“We’re here to take you home.”





CHAPTER 20



COLE gathered P.J. in his arms and carefully lifted her. Dolphin and Renshaw immediately flanked him to provide cover while he hurried in the direction of their SUVs.

“Open the back,” Cole barked. “I need to be able to stretch her out so we can see how bad the gunshot wound is.”

Dolphin moved ahead when they reached the wooded area where they’d parked the vehicles. He opened the hatch and Cole set her gently down in the cargo area.

He had to pry away her fingers that still clutched the knife, and he was careful that she didn’t panic and react blindly. He still wasn’t that sure she was completely aware of her surroundings. When the knife came free, he rapidly cut away her pants leg so he could assess the wound.

“Jesus, there’s blood everywhere,” Dolphin said grimly.

“Not all of it is hers,” Cole said as he ran his fingers over the hole in her thigh. She flinched when he touched too close to the wound, and he cast her an apologetic look. But she didn’t seem to notice.

His fingers came away bright red with blood, and he stared at it for a long moment. This was her blood, and it made him weak in the knees to imagine what would have happened if they’d arrived even thirty seconds later than they had.

P.J. was pale and shaking violently. The bullet wound was just a flesh wound from all he could ascertain. Clean entry and exit. She’d lost blood, but not so much that she would be in shock. It was her emotional state that concerned him the most.

She kept wiping her hands over her shirt, the red blood nearly disappearing in the black material. Then she’d look down, visibly upset that there was still blood staining her palms.

When she started to scrub at her clothing again, Cole took her hands and gently pulled them to him.

“It’s all right, P.J.,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’ve got you. I’ll clean it off. Just give me a minute. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Donovan, Steele and Baker strode up, sweat glistening on their foreheads. Cole lowered her hands, and she drew them back, wrapping her arms around her legs in a protective gesture.