Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(35)

“Help us! Help him!” I screamed again, and could have wept with relief as officers started my way. “You’re going to be okay,” I told Cory. “You’re going to be just fine.”

Cory’s response was to slump against me heavily, his head lolling to the side. His breath had quieted to the barest whisper.

“No! Cory, wake up!”

No response. His eyes were open halfway, glazed with pain, and his mouth worked silently as he struggled weakly to draw breath.

Then I found myself in a sea of legs as S.W.A.T. and medical personnel surrounded us. They took Cory from my clutching arms and bent over him, working frantically. An officer knelt beside me and asked me questions but I hardly heard him. I just watched, horror twisting my heart, as an EMT opened Cory’s shirt and jabbed something into his chest. Blood spurted and Cory gasped, jolting upright, and then sinking back down, his breath deeper now.

“Alex…”

I shoved my way through and took his hand in my bloody ones, trying not to stare at the instrument—that looked like a pen casing—jutting from his right pectoral.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

He smiled faintly and then winced in a soundless scream as they lifted him onto to a gurney. They raised the head so that he was partially upright, while another EMT bent him forward to staunch the wound in his back. Then we were moving. I jogged alongside into the morning sunshine for the first time in four days, and then into an ambulance.

It seemed the blood would never stop flowing. Blood from behind Cory, blood leaking around the tube in his chest. They put an oxygen mask over his mouth and that became stained red as he coughed.

I clutched his hand tightly, so tightly. “Please don’t go,” I whispered. “Please stay with me. Cory, please. Stay…”

He wheezed for breath. It sounded so labored and thick with blood. His dull gaze landed on our entwined hands and his lips curved up ever so slightly, a weak version of his crooked grin.

He held on.

Weakly, struggling, in agony, he held on, drawing upon the great reservoirs of love and bravery I knew he possessed. He held on for his little girl. For his father.

And I liked to think that maybe, if only a little, he held on because I refused to let him go.





Chapter Fourteen


Alex



At Cedars-Sinai hospital, Cory was wheeled away into emergency surgery. I tried to read the faces of every EMT and ER nurse who handled him to gauge how bad his condition was, but every person wore the same mask of grim determination. And then he was gone.

I felt the strength go out of my knees. A police officer had been required to ride with us, to ensure I wasn’t a suspect plotting an escape under the guise of the distraught hostage, I suppose. His nametag read ‘Paulson.’ He took me by the arm and helped me to a seat in the waiting area. I sank into it gratefully and then stared at my trembling hands, my skirt, the front of my blouse and jacket. All covered in Cory’s blood, the taupe-colored material stained maroon.

“Are you are all right, miss?” Officer Paulson asked.

I nodded absently. “I need a restroom,” I said, hardly recognizing the frail timber of my own voice. “I’d like to wash my hands.”

“Of course.” Officer Paulson guided me to a small restroom around the corner. “I’ll wait here for you.”

Inside the bathroom, I kept my gaze averted from the bathroom mirror as I washed the blood from my hands. It took a long while. When I finished, I gripped the side of the sink and willed myself not to cry.

I looked up at my reflection. “Get a grip. You’re alive. You’re…”A choked sob escaped me.

My face was gaunt, as if I’d lost five pounds in the three days, and given my hectic work schedule, I hardly had five pounds to lose. My already pale skin was even paler, the small smattering of freckles across my nose stood out in sharp contrast. I never left the house without makeup—not even to yoga class—but now only the barest smudges of eyeliner remained. My hair was a tangled mess, my pale eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep.

“Jesus.”

I splashed some cold water on my face and wiped off the dark smudges with a stiff paper towel from the dispenser. I looked no better, and the tears threatened again. Cory is fighting for his life and you’re worried about your appearance? I took another deep, steadying breath, and started to walk out. Another woman walked in and actually let out a little cry at the sight of my bloodstained clothes.

“Excuse me.” I slipped past her, my arms crossed over my chest.

Two steps into the waiting room, I froze, staring.

Drew was there, a tall, slender figure towering over my parents. They seemed like visitors from a foreign land. Their faces morphed into shock simultaneously at the sight of me, and my father covered his mouth with his hand.

“It’s not my blood,” I blurted. I crossed the waiting area slowly at first, then flew into Ralph Gardener’s arms and sighed against him.

His voice rumbled tremulously against my ear. “Oh, Alex. My sweet girl. Are you okay?”

I wanted to break down and sob and wail out the pain and fear of the last few days but it would only frighten him. I pushed it all down, like swallowing jagged rocks. “I’m okay, Daddy.”

“Ralph, really.” My mother scolded lightly. “You’ll ruin your clothes.”