Page 68 of Savage Games

“His BP is falling. Let’s move it, people!”

“I need X-rays, stat! We need to find this bullet!”

“Someone page Doctor Graham.”

“Let’s go, people! Let’s go!”

I lost my grip on Richard’s hand as they shoved me aside.

“This time you really need to stay,” called out a nurse over her shoulder as she ran alongside the gurney.

Without even looking at her, I nodded that I understood as I watched the man I loved, my husband, disappear through a pair of doors as they wheeled him into surgery.

As if in a daze, I slowly sank down onto my knees, buried my face in my skirts and burst into tears.

The hours ticked by with no word.

I couldn’t sit. All I could do was pace back and forth within the small confines of the private lounge they had given us to wait out Richard’s surgery.

My stupid skirts kept catching on the chair legs as I passed by.

“Your Grace, if I may?” said Harris.

It took me a minute to realize he was addressing me as ‘Your Grace.’

Looking down at his hand, I saw he held a knife. At my confused look, he gestured to the full skirts of my dress.

My shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes! Cut it off, Harris.”

“Stand still.”

He picked up a fistful of material and began to cut through the expensive silk as I leaned on his shoulder for support.

“I do apologize, Your Grace. I have sent some staff to retrieve some belongings for both of you but the hospital is locked down fairly tight with security and the entire city is on high alert looking for the shooter so it may take them awhile.”

The weight of the skirt fell away. I gave a grateful sigh, caring little that I now stood in only my bodice, a short silk slip that barely reached mid-thigh, and a pair of stockings, garters, and high heels.

One of his guards rushed over to drape a scratchy grey wool blanket over my shoulders.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out by the nurses?” asked Harris.

“I’m not injured.”

“Yes, but I was thinking more about shock.”

Giving him a weak smile, I shook my head no. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Harris nodded his understanding before turning to accept a hot cup of tea from a nearby staff member. “At least sit down and drink some tea. Richard would never forgive me if he found out I neglected you in any way.”

Taking in his brutal-looking face with its crooked nose, I almost felt sympathetic for the man. Richard had, after all, been shot on his watch. Taking the paper cup filled with hot tea from his hands, I gingerly sat on the edge of a nearby chair and sipped at its contents.

A nurse approached us. “He’s out of surgery and already coming out of the anesthesia. The doctor is with him now. I’ll take you to him.”

Abandoning my tea and blanket, I rushed to follow the nurse with Harris on my heels.

They led us into a darkened private room. The doctor was standing over Richard, speaking in hushed tones.

Richard was propped up slightly against some pillows. His muscled chest bare except for a thick white bandage taped in place in the center.

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