Page 75 of Bad Seed

Sophie was screaming.

Harley couldn’t see the man in the hall or the bullet hole in his head for the blood running in her eyes. And then suddenly, Sophie was at her side, wiping the blood from her face with one of the towels she’d been carrying, and Harley was frantically trying to push her away. “Is he dead? Is he dead?”

“He is on the floor in the hall. He isn’t moving,” Sophie said.

The room was spinning. Harley knew she was passing out. “Call security. Call Brendan Pope. Tell him I need him,” she said, and then everything went black.

***

Brendan was washing melted butter from his hands when a staff member came running into the kitchen.

“Brendan! Harley’s room now! Dead man in the hall. She’s been shot. Security is on the way.”

He didn’t think past ripping off his chef coat and cap as he bolted for the exit door, taking the stairs down to the eighth floor two and three steps at a time, with only one thought.

Don’t let her die! Don’t let her die!

Security guards were already on scene. Brendan could hear sirens in the distance. A guard stopped him at the doorway.

“Sorry, man, you can’t go—”

Brendan picked the guard up by both shoulders, lifted him off the floor, and set him aside so fast the man was too shocked to argue.

Sophie was kneeling at Harley’s side, holding a towel to the side of her head.

Blood was everywhere. Her blood.

Then he was on his knees beside her, feeling for a pulse. It was there, and rock steady.

“Sophie, let me see,” he said, gently moved her hands away as he peered beneath the blood-drenched towel. The shot had grazed the side of her head just above her left ear. He looked up at the wall behind her head and saw the bullet hole. “Thank you, God,” he muttered, and continued pressure on the wound.

Sophie came running back with a clean towel she’d taken from her cart. Brendan traded it for the blood-soaked one and kept up the pressure while talking to Harley, waiting for that first sight of her sea-blue eyes.

“Hey, Sunshine. Time to wake up. It’s me, Brendan. I’m here. I’m here.”

***

Everything hurt, but Harley couldn’t remember why. She kept trying to open her eyes, but her head was pounding so hard that the mere thought of motion made her sick. Then she heard voices. Lots of voices,and then the one she’d been listening for—Brendan was here. She moaned.

“Easy, baby, easy,” Brendan said. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

She felt his hands on her face before she opened her eyes, and then she saw him, panic fading on his face, worry hovering in his eyes. “Thought I’d never see you again,” she mumbled, and started to cry.

“Thought I’d never hear your voice again. Hang on. Ambulance is on the way.”

She tried to raise up, needing to know what happened to the man who shot her. “The man who was at the door? He had a gun. Did he get away?”

“He missed his kill shot. You didn’t.” Police and EMTs were on the eighth floor now and flooding the scene. “Help is here now, honey. I have to get out of the way, but I’m behind you all the way.”

Then hands were on his arms, pulling him up, pulling him back. He turned around. It was Aaron.

“Little brother, you need to step back.”

It was the hardest thing Brendan had ever been asked to do, but he did it anyway, for Harley. He didn’t have the skills to help her, but he had the good sense to get out of the way of those who did.

***

By nightfall, Harley was in a hospital bed, riding out the misery of a concussion and a head wound, butconscious enough to have fought with a nurse who tried to remove the medal from around her neck.

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