Fleeting Moments(8)

Blissfully empty.

The gate rattles, and Hunter steps out and looks over, then he gently wraps an arm around me and pulls me out. There are seven men standing near the gate, two in suits, three police officers, and two EMT officers. Hunter leads me over and the gate is quickly opened with a pair of cutters. The two men in suits make eye contact with Hunter, and he nods.

“Ma’am, my name is Byron and this is my partner, Joel. We’re going to have a look at you now, is that okay?” a handsome, young EMT officer says, taking me from Hunter’s arms.

I don’t want to be taken from his arms, and my tiny hand clutches his big one, squeezing. Beautiful silver eyes find mine, and he smiles. “You’re okay now, Lucy girl. Let them help you.”

“But—”

He steps forward, cupping my jaw. “Let them help. Go home. Be safe.”

I open my mouth to answer, but he turns and looks at the two men in suits. “I’m going back in.”

What?

What did he say?

“The situation is spiraling out of control,” a man with dark hair and equally as dark eyes says, his voice low. “The plan still remains. Get what we need. Get out.”

Hunter nods.

“What?” I cry, struggling as Byron tries to get me to go with him. “You’re going back in?”

Hunter studies me. “It’s okay. Let Byron help you.”

“No,” I shriek. “Please. You can’t go back in there. You can’t. You’ll die and . . . no,” I whimper, my legs turning to jelly again.

Hunter makes eye contact with someone in the crowd around us. I keep struggling.

He steps forward, running the back of his hand over my cheek so softly my body craves more. I just want to be back in his arms, where it was warm and safe. I’m so afraid. “It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Lucy girl. Take care of yourself and stay just the way you are.”

I open my mouth to protest but something stabs into my arm and my body goes warm.

Then my world goes dark.

***

“Lucy, sweetheart, wake up.”

Hunter?

“Come on, please wake up.”

My eyes flutter open, and I’m momentarily blinded by a bright light. A few seconds later it goes out and I can focus on the man leaning over me, his eyes red and glassy, his hair disheveled. Gerard. Not Hunter. My chest tightens, and my heart pounds heavily against my ribcage. Where’s Hunter? Where is he? Is he alive? Is he dead? Oh god. What happened to him?

“H-h-h-Hunter,” I croak.

“No, honey, it’s Gerard. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Where am—”

“You’re in the hospital.” A tear runs down his cheek. “Oh god, I was so scared. I could do nothing . . .” His voice hitches, and I focus on him.

“Gerard,” I whisper. “The baby?”

He looks away and more tears run down his face.

No.

“No,” I cry, my voice pained. “No.”

“I’m so sorry. It was too late when you arrived at the hospital.”

I jerk upright. “Those people. All those people.”

“It’s all over, Luc. They got them all out.”

Not all of them.

My heart aches, a deep, painful ache that I know will probably never leave. Yesterday morning, I woke with happiness; today, I wake with darkness. How quickly life can change.

“I need . . . I need to talk to an officer, please.”

I need to know if he lived. I need to know if he made it out.

“They’ll question you when you’re feeling better,” Gerard says, stroking a piece of hair from my face.

“No,” I say, my voice harder than it’s ever been. Gerard jerks back slightly, flinching. “No, I need to talk to them now.”

“Lucy . . .”

“Please,” I beg. “Please. I need this.”

I need to know he’s okay.

“Okay, all right, I’ll get someone.”

He studies me with a worried look in his eyes, then turns and walks out. My heart races as I look around the room, reliving every minute. Hunter saved my life. Hunter held me up. Hunter kept me breathing. Then he went back in. His last words ring through my head and desperation clutches my heart. I need to see him again. I just . . . need to.

“Ma’am.”

I turn and glance at an officer standing at the door with Gerard. He’s the same officer who was there when we got out. I start rambling before he even takes a step into my room. “I need to know if he’s okay. Can you please tell me if he made it out?”

“Who, ma’am?” he asks, coming in and stepping up to my bed.

“Hunter!” I cry. “He went back in and—”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

I blink at him. What does he mean he doesn’t know who I’m talking about? He was there; he spoke to Hunter—of course he knows who I’m talking about. I squeeze my eyes closed. Maybe it isn’t the same officer. I try to remember but it’s all a crazy, horrific blur. I focus on him again. It is him. It is.

“You . . . he got me out. He was right there. You spoke to him. He went back in.”

The officer shakes his head, eyes shifting back and forth in confusion. “Ma’am, I’m afraid you were out there alone. There was nobody with you.”