Page 104 of Taking Care of the Target

Jackhammer’s attention had switched to Vince. Wanting to keep it there, Vince made a big show of grabbing his raw shoulder as he inched his fingers closer to the other weapon.

Cassie stomped on the arch of Jackhammer’s foot, swung her elbow into his gut, and dropped, slipping out of the backpack the asshole was clinging on to.

Vince drew the other gun, ignoring the white-hot pain that erupted in his shoulder, and fired, two shots in succession. Shots had come from behind Jackhammer, too, maybe a second before his.

Vince kept the gun level, even as his shoulder screamed to drop it.

But when Jackhammer crumpled to the ground, Bobby was the one who stood across from Vince, Cassie’s Glock in his hand. His brother was shirtless, his swimming trunks dripping water onto the floor.

With a sigh of relief, Vince lowered his gun. Cassie rushed toward him, and he caught her with the arm that didn’t feel like hamburger.

“You okay?” he asked her, and she nodded, despite her split lip and bloodied nose. The room swayed as he glanced at Bobby. He’d hoped the staggering pain would fade now that he was giving his shoulder a break, but it seemed to be spreading, taking over his lungs. “You?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I snuck over to the empty place a couple houses over.” Bobby pointed his thumb, as if the direction were the important detail. “They’ve got a hot tub. I thought I heard shots, so I waved down some people and told them to call the police. Then I snuck into the back door right as Jackhammer called for you. I was just waiting for the right time to grab Cassie’s gun and make my move.”

“You did…good.” Vince tried to take a step toward the back door, but stumbled into the wall, accidently taking Cassie with him. She tried to steady him, but she didn’t weigh enough.

Sirens sounded in the background, and Cassie put her hand on his face.

“Vince? Vince?”

Her face swam in and out of focus, and then it was just a smear of color.

“I love you,” she said as she lowered him to the ground. “Hold on for me, okay? You promised we’d start over together. Shot or not, I’m holding you to it.”

He tried to smile, but he didn’t know if it made it to his lips before the world went black.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Cassie paced the floor of the ER, Bobby’s and Agent Mancini’s gazes following her. She’d been wearing out the same groove in the tile since they showed up two hours ago.

“I hate hospitals,” she said. “Did I mention how much I hate them? The smell and the beeping and…” Horrible memories of watching Dad disappear little by little slammed into her, robbing her of the ability to breathe.

She fell to her knees, bringing her hands to her eyes as the tears that’d somehow held off rushed out of her at once. The shock had been so all-consuming at first, and then she’d made sure Vince was taken care of, even as the paramedics fussed over her injuries.

Somewhere along the way, she’d threatened a FBI agent. Agents McVee and Mancini were two of the first people on the scene, a couple of ambulances right behind them. One took Tom, and she and Bobby squeezed into one with Vince.

When she’d first seen Vince come out of the living room, the blood running in crimson streams down his shoulder, she’d nearly passed out. Survival instincts kept her going—not only for herself, but for him.

He’d seemed okay… until he wasn’t.

The entire ride to the hospital she’d gripped his hand, wanting him to squeeze back, just so she’d know he had some fight left. She kept thinking that as long as the doctors could fix Vince, they could fix everything else.

Once they’d arrived at the ER, they wouldn’t let her or Bobby go back with him. She’d caused a scene, shouting that someone might come in and try to kill him. Agent McVee swore to go in and protect him, and that’s when she told him she’d hunt him down herself if he didn’t keep Vince safe.

Agent Mancini had stayed with her and Bobby. Eventually the ER staff had insisted on treating her injuries before sending her back to the waiting room.

And now she was down on the cold tile floor as fear and worry wrapped suffocating tentacles around her, pulling her toward the dark place where Vince didn’t make it out all right.

Arms came around her, and she looked through tear-blurred eyes at Bobby, his face so like Vince’s. “I can’t lose him again,” she said. “I finally got him back, and he’s protected me from the beginning, and everything…I just…” A sob cut off the rest of her words, and Bobby hugged her to him and patted her back.

“He’ll be okay,” he said. Over and over again, until she’d cried every ounce of saltwater she had onto his shirt.

For another thirty minutes, Cassie tried to hold onto hope, but then word came that Tom Duffy hadn’t survived—too many internal injuries, too much blood loss from his femoral artery.

A fresh wave of tears emerged, and she crashed all over again, guilt slamming into her along with the sorrow. She’d pulled him into this case.

He volunteered for watch duty to protect her.

---