Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Both bullets missed the spine and vital organs, and we managed to remove them without causing any further damage,” the obviously tired surgeon informed them the moment she entered the waiting room.
The slightly bloodstained blue gown she wore and the mask tied about her neck said she had come straight from the theater to give them the good news.
“He’s already regained consciousness and is in the ICU,” the doctor continued. “But he’s insisting that he must speak to Mr. Wynter right now. I am allowing you two minutes,” she warned Fergus. “After that, I’m asking that you all leave and come back in the morning.”
Thea remained numb inside as she watched Fergus depart with the surgeon.
Because Declan had been shot .
Twice.
In the back.
Bullets they all knew, but so far no one had said out loud, had been meant for Thea.
If Declan hadn’t wrapped his arms and body about her so tightly half a second before the shots were fired, she would have been the person the bullets hit. Maybe fatally, as she was so much smaller than Declan, and the bullets that had penetrated high up on his back would have hit her in the head.
Even as the two of them fell to the ground, Declan had rolled so that he was the one to hit the pavement hard, and not her.
At first, Thea had believed that the hissing sound Declan made as he landed was because the air had been knocked from his lungs on impact. It was only after Fergus helped her to stand and Declan rolled over onto his side, obviously in pain, that they realized he had been shot in the back.
She had seen people supposedly shot in TV programs, but reality was something else entirely. There was so much blood for one thing, soaking into the back of his blue suit jacket. The strained expression on Declan’s pale and previously stoic face had told her how much pain he was really in.
Thea had been in shock ever since, barely aware of the speedy drive to the hospital with Declan lying in the back of the SUV. Or the long hours since as they waited here for the news that he had survived the surgery.
She had been vaguely aware of meeting two other men during that time. Men who looked a lot like Fergus. He’d introduced one of them as his twin, Magnus, and the other as his cousin, Rufus. The two men had taken it in turns to stay with them for several hours, bringing coffee and food to anyone who wanted it.
Declan’s team had waited with them, waiting for news of their friend and colleague, and refusing to leave until they knew Declan was out of danger. In fact, several other Wynter Security employees had turned up at the hospital too, all wanting news of Declan.
Those employees had now all filed out of the room with Fergus, but several had commented that they would be coming back in the morning.
Fergus had tried talking to Thea several times during the past six hours, as had the police when they arrived to take their statements on the incident. But she was feeling too numb to respond to any of them.
That numbness was starting to fade now that she knew Declan was going to live. Exhaustion from the overload of adrenaline and emotion was quickly taking its place.
Random drive-by shootings, which the police seemed to be classing this incident as, and Fergus hadn’t contradicted them, didn’t occur in the UK. Well…they happened more nowadays than they used to, as did knife attacks, but still…
Declan had been shot. Twice.
No matter how many times Thea said that to herself, she still couldn’t quite believe it. Bullets she had no doubt had been meant for her. The shooter had been waiting outside her apartment building, after all.
“Ready to go?” Fergus prompted gently, having come back into the waiting room without Thea realizing.
He looked as tired as she felt after spending all these long hours at the hospital. There were dark shadows under his eyes, his face was pale, and his hair looked as if he had been running his fingers through it for hours. Which Thea knew he had.
“Is Declan going to…to be okay?” Tears blurred her vision at the possibility he might not be.
“Yes,” Fergus assured.
“But—”
“I’ve instructed some of our men to remain here overnight as a precaution.”
Except—there was that elephant in the room again—they all knew those two bullets hadn’t been meant for Declan.
Who hated her so much that they had been willing to shoot her in broad daylight?
Thea had absolutely no idea. None.
She stood up and immediately dismissed how stiff and aching she felt after sitting on the hard chair for hours. Declan had been shot protecting her, so a little discomfort on her part was totally irrelevant.
“How was he?” she questioned as Fergus helped her on with her jacket.
“A bit groggy, but otherwise glad to have the bullets removed.”
“Was there a reason he needed to see you so urgently?” she prompted as he held the door open for her to go out into the hospital corridor.
Fergus nodded. “He wanted to give me a description of the shooter as well as the distinctive tattoos he saw on the other man’s neck.”
Her eyes widened. “He had time to notice something like that?”
Fergus gave a rueful smile. “Like me, Declan is ex-Special Forces. He knows that those details count.”
“Who do you both think was responsible?”
Fergus’s expression became closed. “We’re still looking into it.”
“We?” The two of them walked side by side down the hallway and out the doors to the outside.
Thea felt momentarily disoriented by the obviously late afternoon sunshine. The hours they had spent in the hospital had felt surreal, a time out of time, and it was a shock to realize the sun was still shining.
“Magnus and Rufus, but mainly Linus, are checking into it.” Fergus unlocked and opened the passenger door of the SUV for her.
As she climbed inside, Thea realized it was a different SUV than the one they had arrived in. That one had blood all over the back seat. Declan’s blood. One of the men in the Wynter family must have taken it away sometime during the past six hours and left this one in its place.
Thea hadn’t met Linus yet, but she knew he was the tech guy for the company, so he would probably be the one checking any security cameras in the area. “Do you think it could have been Lev or my stalker?” she pressed.
“I believe it’s one of them, yes,” Fergus bit out as he started the engine before driving the vehicle out of the parking area. “Your stalker, because he’s already shown he can be violent when he knocked you unconscious in Paris. But Lev Yegorov is more likely to have armed men working for him. Also, the tattoos Declan described seeing on the guy’s neck were very distinctive. I believe we’ll find that he’s one of Yegorov’s men.”
Her eyes widened. “Lev tried to have me killed?”
“It’s a possibility,” Fergus grated.
“But why?” She frowned her puzzlement.
He shrugged. “We’ll need him to tell us that.”
“But you think the shooter’s tattoos will confirm whether he worked for Lev?”
He nodded. “If they’re gang or organized crime related, yes, and we think they are. I need to make a few phone calls referencing the information Declan gave me, but I believe we should have an answer to that question within a few hours.”
“Then what?”
His jaw tightened. “Then we have to decide what we’re going to do about it.”
“Do about it?”
“Yes.” The challenging expression on Fergus’s face told her he wasn’t going to add anything more to that.
Thea wasn’t sure she was up to hearing any more. It had been a stressful few weeks before the unprovoked shooting this morning. She simply didn’t have anything left in reserve to deal with any more shocks.
* * *
“Have I been asleep for long?”
Fergus looked at the beautiful woman lying beneath the covers in the bed in one of the spare bedrooms in his apartment.
Thea had been exhausted by the time they arrived here a couple of hours ago. Thankfully, too much so to bother arguing with him about where they went after leaving the hospital. Or protest when he suggested she take a nap before dinner.
If she had questioned coming here, Fergus would have explained that he believed it was far safer for her to be twenty floors up, in his penthouse home, than it was for her to go back to her own apartment. The break-in a few days ago told him that her apartment building had insufficient security to keep her safe.
Fergus had made a couple of calls to members of his family once Thea was asleep, plus another one to Nikolai Volkov. The latter might be an arrogant bastard, but he was also more likely to be able to identify the distinctive tattoos Declan had described on the shooter’s neck.
After that, Fergus hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming back to the spare bedroom to sit in the chair he had pulled up beside the bed. He’d needed to sit and watch Thea breathe. To reassure himself that she was still alive.
Which she wouldn’t be if Declan hadn’t moved as quickly as he had.
Fergus’s blood ran cold every time he thought of those two bullets piercing Thea’s head, knowing she would have died instantly.
Fergus knew, in that stark moment, that any hopes and dreams he might have envisaged for his future would have died with her.
Because, despite having known her for only a matter of days, he had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with Thea Morgan.
Not just because she was beautiful. Even though she was. But because Thea’s soul was equally as beautiful and honest and true to her principles.
Many people would have been tempted to give up their job and live life large and full with the fifty million pounds her mother had left her. Not Thea. To her, it was dirty money, and she wanted nothing to do with it.
Fergus felt sure those principles had to have come from her father. That they had been lovingly instilled in Thea during the first eight years of her life.
Fergus had no doubt that it had been those eight years of her father’s unconditional love that had helped Thea to withstand the years of indifference from her mother that had followed his death.
Thea was a survivor.
A warm, loving, and beautiful survivor, who lived by her own moral code of kindness and honesty.
Fuck, it made Fergus’s heart burst with a warmth of emotion just to look at her.
“Fergus?” she prompted at his silence.
He reached out to gently stroke his fingers down her cheek. “It’s a little after seven o’clock in the evening.”
“Is Declan…”
“He’s fine,” Fergus instantly reassured. “More than fine, apparently,” he added with a rueful smile. “I called to check on him an hour ago, and the nurse in charge of the ICU told me he’s growling at them all because he wants a steak for his dinner and not the soup and pureed food they tried to serve him.”
Thea released a relieved sigh as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. “Thank God.” She swallowed, her gaze focused on her fingers as they plucked at the raised pattern on the duvet cover. “Maybe now isn’t the time, but I really need to know this: why were you so…off toward me this morning?”
Fergus had been expecting this question ever since he’d realized how ridiculous his behavior had been after Declan arrived in Paris this morning. “That’s a bigger conversation, and I think you need to eat dinner before we discuss it any further.”
Her lashes lowered over those beautiful golden eyes. “If that’s what you would prefer.”
“It is.” He stood. “I’ll go and cook us a couple of steaks while you take a refreshing shower and dress in clean clothes.”
“Now you’re being mean!” she protested with a weak smile.
Fergus sobered. “I’m really not. Truth is, I owe Declan a great debt for putting your life before his own.”
Thea eyed him quizzically. “I think I’m the one who owes him that debt, not you.”
“I disagree.”
“But—”
“As I said, you’re rested now, and we can have a more in-depth conversation after you’ve eaten. Okay?” he prompted gently.
She gave a slow nod. “Okay.”