Page 73 of Mob Princess

“We can take care of that.”

Cleaners. I know what they are. They must have a way of getting some here. They’ll come in and take care of everything in the room, so it never looked like a crime scene. I have no idea how they’ll handle the window, but I don’t care.

Within three minutes of the paramedics arriving, they have Sean on oxygen and on a stretcher. The bleeding slowed while his cousins and I waited. If I hadn’t watched his back rise and fall while on the call, I would’ve believed he was dead. He’s still so pale.

“Ma’am? Do you have a way to the hospital?”

“I’m riding with my husband.”

“We really can’t?—”

I turn such a menacing glare at him—one I feel to my soul—that he snaps his mouth shut. I step up to the poor man and am so close, my forehead is nearly up his nose.

“You are not separating me from him until he goes into surgery. I’ll stay out of the way, but I’m not taking some fucking Uber while he might?—”

I can’t say it.

“Cailín?”

I whip around at the sound of Sean’s thready voice under the oxygen mask. I can’t believe he’s conscious again. What the fuck kind of pain tolerance does he have?

“Yes?” I lift the mask just enough to understand him.

“I love when you’re fierce. Just hold my hand, and it’ll be all right. I promise.”

I stare dumbfounded. He’s comforting me. I scramble into the ambulance when the exasperated paramedic gestures for me to get in. I stay out of the way as best I can, but I don’t let go of Sean’s hand once I have it again. I have no choice when we get to the Emergency Room. I have to let go long enough for them to get him out of the ambulance. Then I’m running alongside the stretcher until someone steps in front of me. With their hands on my shoulders, they push me back. I’m certain I could knock them out of the way. But a thread of common sense stops me because I know I can’t go into the OR with them.

“Miss?”

I look up as a young man in scrubs approaches. “Yes.”

“You came in with the victim.”

I flinch, and he grimaces.

“Can you tell me his name?”

“Sean O’Rourke. Sean Dermot O’Rourke.”

“Date of birth?”

Fuck. I stare blankly at the guy before turning back to the doors through which they wheeled him.

“Date of birth?”

“January seventeenth.”

I whirl around at Cormac’s voice. He and Seamus approach. Neither have a hair out of place, and neither have a speck of blood on them. I look down at my dress and hands. I’m covered in it. That is my breaking point.

I’m trembling as Cormac slips off his suit coat and wraps it around my shoulders. It’s not what he was wearing earlier. How’d they have time to clean up and change? How long have I been standing here since they wheeled Sean away? I thought it was only a couple minutes. I don’t even know. Numbness sets in.

“I’ll answer the questions. We’re Mr. O’Rourke’s cousins.”

The hospital staffer looks between me and Seamus. “Isn’t she his girlfriend or wife?”

“Yes, and she’s upset. Questions will only make it worse.”

I watch them talk as Cormac leads me away. We sit, and I’m grateful for his arm around my shoulders just like Seamus’s earlier. I slump against him with my eyes closed. Tears seep from them.

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