Page 124 of Guarding Grace
Sirens became noticeable in the distance just before screams of pain came from behind a car across the street.
I struggled to my feet as people started pouring out of our building.
Another scream. Since the asshole had shot at us, I didn’t care what pressure Terry or Duke used to get information from the guy.Magnanimouswas not in my vocabulary today. If I wasn’t scared of the blood, I’d have been the first one over there demanding to know who was targeting us.
Marci was the first to find me. “My God, I didn’t know you were in this much trouble. I can’t believe people were shooting at you.”
Peyton and several others from my company joined us.
“Me either,” I said.
Paul pushed into the circle. “I called 9-1-1.”
“Good. Now let’s all get back inside and let the professionals take care of this.” That’s when I saw Elliot running down the street.
A police car roared up and screeched to a stop.
Duke waved them over to the other side of the street.
Peyton walked toward our building. “You heard the boss. The excitement’s over. Back to work.”
After a few grumbles, the group of my employees followed her back inside.
I got the side-eye from Albert Sakman, whose high-end financial consulting company occupied the floor below us. I would have loved a chance to sell to some of his clients.
Terry ran toward me. “Grace.” His hands were bloody.
This time I followed my training, and tensed immediately, leaned against the nearby car closed my eyes and slid down to a seated position.It is not his blood. It is not his blood.I kept repeating the words to myself, tensing hard between breaths.
“Are you okay?” I felt Terry’s hand on my shoulder and heard the worry in his voice.
I kept my eyes closed. “Thanks to you. I’m just being careful.” The backs of my eyelids remained pink from the sunshine. The darkness I feared didn’t come. I’d conquered my broken nervous system this time. It could be done. “You have blood on you.”
“Shit.” He pulled his hand away.
If it wasn’t for the blood and the possibility of making a fool of myself by fainting again, I’d be tackling him right this second. He’d put his body between me and those mad gunmen. He’d taken one of them out and wounded another. My man was a certified, hot-as-fuck badass.
A few seconds later, he announced, “All cleaned up.”
When I opened my eyes, he was marvelously shirtless, with just a slight red tinge to his hands, and the shirt he’d used to wipe off the blood lay in a clump yards away.
He pulled me to my feet and into a wonderfully tight hug.
“You are one hot badass,” I told him. Watching him in action was the turn-on that kept my fear in check.
“Elliot?” he asked.
“He took off.”
“You scared my people,” Sakman complained. “You’re a menace, Brennan. I’m going to talk to the landlord about having you removed.”
Talking to him had never been a pleasure. The man grumbled about everything. “I was scared myself, but everything’s okay now.”
“You call shooting a man on a busy street okay?”
Terry stepped between us. “I do.”
“Did you shoot that poor man?” Sakman demanded.
