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Gabe swallowed a groan. He sensed that Blake had gone tense. Ready. “Page—”
“I love you, Gabe. I always have, more than my own life. And I’m not leaving you now.”
He accepted her flat refusal with mixed emotions. High among them was an unexpected serenity that came from knowing, at last, that she really did love him. Now—and the day she had left him.
He knew, now, exactly how it felt to be willing to sacrifice his own life for the one he loved...just as Page had for him two and a half years ago.
He moved to stand in front of her, his eyes on Wingate, fully prepared to use his own body to shield her. “Let’s talk about this,” he suggested, feeling the tension mounting in the air.
“I’m tired of talking,” Wingate snapped. “Tired of hurting. Tired of all of it. It’s time for it to end.”
He raised the gun.
Even though he’d been warned what to expect, Gabe was startled when a knife suddenly sliced through the air, slamming into Wingate’s right shoulder.
Wingate staggered. The gun wavered.
Both Gabe and Blake threw themselves forward.
>
Gabe heard Page scream when the gun went off, so close to him it nearly deafened him. And then he had Wingate beneath him, fists and feet flailing, the air filled with shouts and curses.
The doors to the motor home crashed open. More bodies poured into the already cramped space. Electronic equipment shattered.
Something hit Gabe in the back of the head, hard. He attributed that hit to the weakness that was suddenly overtaking him.
Someone pulled him off Wingate. Gabe hadn’t realized he’d wrapped his hands around Wingate’s throat until a beefy police officer pried them away.
“We’ve got him,” the officer said. “Move over there, out of the way. We’ll—hey, you’re bleeding pretty bad.”
“Gabe?” Page was at his side, kneeling next to him on the filthy carpeted floor. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten onto his back, but he seemed incapable of rising.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh, Gabe, no.”
Blake looked over Page’s shoulder. He hissed a curse from between his teeth and started unbuttoning his borrowed shirt.
“Here,” he said, shrugging it off and bundling it into Page’s hands. “Keep this pressed to the wound. I’ll make sure an ambulance is on the way.”
Wound? Gabe wondered where, exactly, he was hurt. He seemed to be numb below the neck, though he sensed that pain hovered just out of reach. And that, when it hit him, it was going to be major.
There was a great deal of activity going on around him. A lot of noise and confusion. The motor home was too small for all the commotion. It rocked dizzyingly as people bustled in and out
Gabe reminded himself to congratulate the police on getting there so quickly, handling everything so efficiently. He knew he and Blake hadn’t given them much to go on with the hasty call for help they’d made on the way here.
He’d have to compliment Blake, too. That knife trick had been truly amazing.
“Gabe, talk to me. Can you hear me?” Page sounded as though she’d been speaking to him for a while.
He tried to concentrate on her face, which hovered so close to his own. She was pressing hard against his chest with both hands, tears running unchecked down her cheeks. He frowned.
“Don’t cry,” he said, finding it surprisingly difficult to form the words. “I’m okay.”
“He shot you.” Her breath caught “Oh, Gabe.”
He lifted a hand to her face. It felt as though his arm weighed a ton.
“I’ll be all right,” he promised.
