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“Is the fucking victim.”
“What?” The hand on the small of my back shakes. “She’s our suspect.”
“No, she isn’t.” Hall flicks his eyes to me, and the look in them is apologetic. Embarrassed. Scared. “Had you done your job properly, you would’ve asked for video footage and known that the deceased shot first and accosted the couple. Ms. Asher acted in self-defense and if you don’t get those handcuffs off within the next fifteen seconds, the only job you’ll have in my department is in clerical.”
Millstone jumps into action and the restraints come off; his face is ashen when I turn to raise a brow. “Ms. Asher, I apologize. This was a huge mistake and I—”
“Drive me to the hospital and we’ll be even. No stopping for shit.”
“Captain, can I—”
“Go.” Hall is exasperated, embarrassed, and I’ll talk Malcolm into not retaliating. But later. Much later. “Get her there and back quickly. Head straight to my office. I’ll be waiting.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll be arresting me again if we don’t get to that damn hospital, Officer. And that is not an empty threat.” He gulps, then nods. Hall turns, and I catch a hint of a blush on his cheeks and it takes everything in me not to snap.
Lord, now is not the time to test my patience. Please get me to Javi.
I breathe a little calmer once we are on our way.
“What the hell happened?” Malcolm hisses beside me the second I walk through the emergency rooms doors. He’s been waiting outside, knowing I was close after Officer Millstone was kind enough to return my belongings that he confiscated from the ground near my car. “Who the fuck arrested you?”
“Not now.”
“Mariah, I need—”
“To give me a moment to see if the man I love is okay.” The tears come then, and I’m pulled into his chest, his lips at the crown of my head, but I don’t understand what he’s mumbling. “What?”
“I said, he’s—”
“Malcolm, I swear to God if you tell me he’s anything but fine, I’ll shoot you.”
The man chuckles and gives me another quick squeeze before stepping back. He looks amused, mostly angry, but there’s a hint of mirth there too. “So this is why he finds your threats so amusing. I get it.”
“You are skating on very thin ice.”
“You have anger issues, dear cousin.”
“It’s hereditary.” I close my eyes and breathe in and out. And in and out. Until you know everything is okay, you keep your composure. Rip him a new one later. “Now… Where. Is. He?”
“Getting the wound cleaned and stitched up.”
“So, he’s okay?”
“Yes.” Malcolm entwines our fingers and pulls me along behind him. I’m not paying attention to the where or if we turn right or left and how many doorways we cross; I feel lost until his eyes meet mine and his lips stretch into a soft grin. “Go on. I’ll be in the waiting room while you two talk. And don’t worry, Carmelo has Chulo.”
My feet are rooted to the ground, though, and Javi gives me a concerned look. “Come here, Muñeca. I’m okay.” A sob catches in my throat, and the nurse tending to what I now see is a large shoulder wound gives me a sympathetic look. It’s just all too much. So much could’ve gone wrong. “Stop for a second.”
“Sir, I just need to close the last two stitches. It’ll be…never mind.”
With his warm brown eyes on my seafoam ones, Javier rips off the medical tape and the dirty gauze used to clean up the wound. There’s a green nylon string with a small pair of scissors clamped in place for her to administer the next suture, but he lets it dangle while walking closer.
Another step, and tears drip down my eyes in relief.
His scent infiltrates my senses, and I shake with this profound need to grab him and never let go.
And then he’s the one touching me.
