Under Pressure (Body Armor #1)(82)

She took in the scene before her. Bullet holes, all over. Dear God, she was a lousy aim. “I could have hit you!”

“But you didn’t. You helped me.”

Terror receded enough for her to see Leese, really see him—standing tall, hurt but not hindered. With his gun hand, he pressed a T-shirt to his side. With the other he again pushed her to sit, then gently cupped her chin.

“I need you to stay down, babe. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

What? “Wait!”

“Not now, Cat.” With one hard look, he repeated, “Stay down.” The order given, he retrieved something from the nightstand, then went back to the downed men. While constantly searching out the now-broken door, he disarmed them both, tossing multiple weapons onto the bed. He checked each for a pulse, bound their hands and feet together, then glanced back at her and reiterated, “Do. Not. Move.”

Numb, Cat nodded.

He stepped over the men and disappeared into the hall.

Oh my God. Alert, terrified, she listened but couldn’t hear a thing. Thirty seconds aged her like thirty years as she stared at that door, aware of the unmoving men, the smell of gunfire still in the air, the proof of her own incompetence before her.

She badly wanted to trail Leese, but she didn’t want to get in his way. Staying silent, her fingers in a white-knuckled grip on the bedding, she waited in agony until he stepped back in.

The blood now darkened his hip and much of a thigh, making her throat close up in horror.

“I think it’s clear. I relocked the front door. No one else is in the penthouse.” He strode back to her and urged her toward the bathroom. “Stay there.” He retrieved the phone. “Sahara?”

So that’s who he’d called?

Her knees went weak and she sank to the floor.

Leese said, “Shit,” only a second before she heard the new commotion.

Renewed fear didn’t have a chance to take hold before she heard Sahara shout, “Leese? Answer me, damn you!”

Thank God. She put her head on her knees.

“We’re okay,” he called out. “Two men down. Check the building for any others.”

Bleeding, but still issuing orders. God almighty, he was an impressive man.

Cat tried to fill her lungs and retched instead.

“Hey.” Coming to his knees beside her, Leese stroked her head. “You did great, honey.”

She gave a shaky, half-sick laugh.

Justice made it into the room first, Sahara behind him. Their gazes went everywhere, skimmed over the now stirring men, then zeroed in on Leese, naked and bleeding.

“Do I wanna know?” Justice asked.

Sahara just raised a brow.

Grabbing for a towel, Leese explained, “I was showering when they got in.” He wrapped it around himself. “No time to get dressed.”

With a confusing lack of alarm, Justice asked, “You got hit?”

“A flesh wound.” Disgusted, Leese said, “I’ll be fine, but I don’t know about those two. Did you send men to search the rest of the agency? There could be others.”

“She did.” Justice nudged Sahara with an elbow, and almost knocked her off her heels. “I haven’t seen her shook up before, but taking that call from you, she was squealing like a little girl ready to burst into tears and—”

“You’re bleeding a lot,” Sahara interrupted.

That snapped Cat out of her trauma. She looked at Leese’s side, just above his hip bone, and saw the awful damage done to his flesh. The bullet appeared to have torn across him, leaving a three-inch-long furrow, blackened around the edges, constantly oozing blood. Already his skin started to bruise.

“Oh my God, Leese,” she whispered. “You were shot.”

“Grazed,” Leese corrected. He looked at his side and said, “It’s not deep.”

Not deep? “Are you nuts?” Finally having a purpose, Cat grabbed more towels and a wet washcloth, then hurried back to him. Leese tried to take a towel from her, but she didn’t let him. “I need to see—”

Justice stilled her hand. “Let me, okay?”

“Why you?” she snapped, on the ragged edge.

“Well, for starters, I’m not shaking. And I’m used to seeing blood since fighters get hurt all the time. Odds are I’ve had more experience than you.”

Dubious, Cat asked, “With gunshot wounds?”

“Well, no...” Justice eased the cloth away from her and began cleaning the blood. “But I’ve seen broken bones, dislocated joints, head wounds that bled like a mother, split lips and brows, gouged eyes—”

Cat backed up. “Fine. You do it.”

After flashing her a smile, he said to Leese, “Sit down, will you?”

“I don’t want to ruin the bed.”

Cat was about to scream when Sahara said, “The other men will report to me if they find anything. Sit, cooperate. Please.”

Compromising, Leese propped a shoulder against the wall and, watching Justice work, asked Sahara, “How did they get in?”

To Cat’s critical eye, Leese looked merely curious, not in a lot of pain. Then she saw him wince and tears rushed to her eyes.

He could have been killed—and it would have been my fault.