Page 93 of Sweet Revenge
She felt for a pulse again. Was that it, or was it her imagination? She didn’t care. She had to try. She couldn’t let Nessa take someone else from her. She tipped Maura’s head back as she went through the steps of CPR in her head. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Thirty compressions, two breaths.
She repeated it in her head over and over while she pumped her friend’s chest, breathing life into her lungs. Why the fuck wasn’t Declan here yet?
“Come on, Maura. You have to fight.”
Blood oozed out in a pool on the floor, but she kept going, pushing through the fatigue. She couldn’t stop. She had to keep trying. She couldn’t just do nothing.
When she heard footsteps pounding down the hall, she grappled for the gun she’d tossed to the ground. Declan burst through the door, and she let out the breath she’d been holding, dropping the weapon and resuming CPR. Thirty compressions, two breaths.
Declan turned to speak to Finn, who had run up behind him, and Finn flicked a glance over Declan’s shoulder before immediately turning on his heel and disappearing the way he’d come.
“Evie,” Declan said, crouching down beside her. “You can stop now.”
“No!” Evie said, voice breaking. “She’s fine. As long as I…she’ll be fine.”
“Evie. She’s gone.”
His words arrowed through her, whispering through the haze of her frenzied rush to keep Maura’s heart beating, and she stopped, sitting back on her heels to look down at her friend’s lifeless body. Blood soaked her shirt and pooled under her. The diamond on her left hand was splattered with it.
She would have collapsed to the floor without Declan there to catch her, scooping her up and carrying her, sobbing, from the room. Evie saw James rush past them, his keening wail echoing down the hall.
When they were outside, she gulped fresh air into her lungs. The parking lot was dotted with people, and Declan carried her over to his SUV, sitting with her on the open tailgate, cradling her in his lap until her sobs faded into hitched breaths.
His fingers skimmed the cut on her cheek, tracing the sore spot on her jaw that must have been darkening into a bruise.
“Anything feel broken?”
She sat up, easing off his lap, and rotated her shoulder, hissing at the sharp stab of pain. “No. Bruised, maybe, but not broken. She killed her just to punish me.”
Declan reached for her hand, squeezing it. “It isn’t your fault.”
“I know,” Evie murmured. “But it hurts just the same. How did you find me?” she asked after a beat.
“Turns out technology really is magic. Evie…” His voice faltered. “I just need to…”
His words trailed off as he leaned in to capture her lips with his. His touch was gentle, the soft brush of his fingers across her jaw as he slid his hand back to cup her neck, the graze of his hand as it slid down to her waist.
Desperate to feel something that wasn’t pain, wasn’t grief, wasn’t sorrow, she tilted her head up for his lips and let him take what he needed, give her what she needed in return. When he pulled away, pressing a long kiss to her forehead, she somehow felt steadier, like he’d lifted her back onto a solid foundation.
“Let me take you home,” he whispered.
ChapterForty
Aweek after Maura’s funeral, Evie sat curled up on Declan’s balcony in the gray, misty light of early morning. Sleep had been elusive, and when she did sleep, it was plagued with nightmares. Every time she felt like she was getting back on even footing, she woke up in a cold sweat, Nessa’s haunting smile still fresh in her mind.
All the hours spent awake in the dark had given her time to think. Maybe too much time. She felt Maura’s loss like an ache in her chest, constant and throbbing. Seeing James, numb and broken at the funeral, added guilt to the ache. She should have done more, tried harder to save her.
If she hadn’t wasted so much time with Nessa, hadn’t indulged her thirst for blood, would Maura still be alive? McGee insisted there was nothing she could have done, but it did little to absolve the guilt.
Most of all, she was angry. Angry at Nessa for killing three people she loved out of spite and petty jealousy, at herself for not seeing Nessa for who and what she was all along.
She existed in limbo now, back at Glenmore House, back in Declan’s bed. Not quite sure where she wanted to go, but also knowing she didn’t want to leave. They hadn’t spoken about their fight since he found her in the warehouse, but he’d been there for every nightmare, holding her while she cried, whispering soothing words in her ear while he stroked her hair.
He demanded nothing, listened when she wanted to talk, sat quietly when she didn’t. Sometimes she could feel the fresh, teasing tendrils of hope again, but she was scared to let them bloom. How did she know this time would be different?
The sun crested the horizon, peeking its way through the trees that ringed the property and dappling the balcony with light. William had called a couple of times. Once to ask about Peter and again to offer her a job, a lucrative one in Tokyo. She’d told him she’d think about it.
She should take it. That’s what she’d been telling herself since William had called. Get back to work, use the jobs and the travel as a distraction, but it didn’t have the same appeal it once did. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be anonymous in a crowd of people. She wanted to be seen, to be known. She wanted to be loved.
