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Anneliese opened a compartment along the side of the limo and pulled out a first aid kit. “Let me take a look.” Bending low, she stepped across them to kneel beside Quinn. Taking a pair of scissors out of the kit, she cut a larger hole around the wound.
“I think you got hit by one of the chips of concrete that the bullet kicked up,” she said.
“How bad is it?” Vincent asked. “Can we treat her at the airport?”
“Yes!” Quinn said as Gabriel said, “No!”
Anneliese looked at Gabriel. “Sir, I can disinfect and bandage it now, and we’ll have a doctor meet us at the plane.”
Quinn gave Gabriel a death glare. “I am the injured party, and I agree to having it bandaged now.”
“Quinn—” Gabriel began.
“It’s. My. Leg,” Quinn bit out.
Gabriel nodded to Anneliese. “But we will compromise by having the doctor meet us on the plane. Please.” His voice turned to velvet. “You were hurt by a bullet meant for me.”
Recognizing his need to expiate the guilt, Quinn said, “Okay. Doctor on the plane.”
Anneliese ripped open an antiseptic wipe and gently cleaned the wound, which stung like the dickens. Especially when the car hit a pothole and caused the bodyguard to press too hard. “I’m sorry, but there is definitely some sidewalk grit in here. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”
“Yup. All vaccinations are up to date.” Quinn looked at Gabriel. “Mikel insists on that, so I’m not saying it just to get you off my back.”
He laid a hand against her cheek, his eyes dark with pain. “I’m so sorry, cariño mío.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s—” She stopped.
Who had shot at Gabriel? Had they wanted to kill him or send a warning of some kind?
She glanced at Anneliese, wanting to ask the bodyguard’s expert opinion about the shooter’s intention. However, Anneliese was focused on applying ointment and a bandage to Quinn’s wound.
“It’s the fault of whoever hired the sniper,” Quinn finished.
“And we don’t know who that is,” Gabriel said.
“Yeah, but we’ll find out. I promise you that,” Quinn responded. Whoever it was, she wanted to kill them with her own hands for ruining Gabriel’s moment of jubilation.
“I don’t doubt you.” Gabriel pressed a kiss on her forehead before he asked Anneliese, “Are we permitted to sit up now?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t, sir,” Vincent responded instead. “We’re on an island, so we have a limited number of ways to get off it. That sniper was a pro. He or she could have a team tailing us. At some point, they’ll be able to figure out which bridge we’re headed for, and the sniper could set up again. I don’t want to take that chance.”
Anneliese flipped up the bench cushion of the backward-facing seat. “These should make you more comfortable,” she said, handing Quinn and Gabriel two pillows and two blankets before she returned to her post on the back seat.
Gabriel folded both blankets together into a thick pad. “Roll toward the front for a second, and I’ll spread this out so you can lie on top of it.”
“What about you?” Quinn asked as she shifted away from him.
“The carpet is thick enough for me.”
She decided he would feel better if she accepted his small sacrifice, so she rolled back onto the blankets without further argument. The extra padding felt good.
Suddenly, Gabriel wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his body so her face was against his chest. “You could have been killed.” Anguish quavered in his voice. “Because you were with me. Dios mío! Now I understand how Raul feels.”
Quinn squirmed in his grasp so she could look him in the eye. “You could have been killed.” The terror of that hit her in the gut. She’d been focused on who the culprit was rather than what might have happened. She burrowed her face into Gabriel’s chest again, handfuls of his T-shirt bunched in her fists.
“But I wasn’t, thanks to everyone in this car. I am a lucky man.”
He’d been kidnapped, mutilated, and shot at, and yet he considered himself lucky. How could she not love him?
