Chapter Twenty-Two
Franny raced forward on an outraged cry. She’d shot Royal. She’d shot him. He’d fallen over and oh God, oh God. Franny wouldn’t let her shoot again.
But there was nothing to be done because Holand was also on the ground. She was bleeding. It seeped out of her side. Franny stood above her, watching her move and writhe. For a moment, Franny did nothing but stare, a bit like she’d been detached from her own body.
Royal had shot Holand too. She was shot. She didn’t even have her gun anymore. But Franny realized that’s where Holand’s eyes were trained. The gun a few feet away from her outstretched hand.
Her whole body shaking, Franny managed to grab it before Holand could wriggle close enough to. Then she rushed over to Royal, stumbled onto her knees by his side. His eyes were closed.
“Royal.”
“It’s too damn bright out here,” he muttered.
Oh, God, he’d spoken. He’d spoken. He was still alive. He was… “I thought she killed you,” Franny managed to choke out.
“Vest. Hell of a thing.”
Everything fell apart then. He had a vest on because and only because he was in uniform. He wasn’t dead. Oh, he was so hurt, but he wasn’t dead. She simply lowered her forehead to said vest and wept into it.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled, ready to fight or shoot or whatever she had to do.
But it was Copeland. A few deputies. Copeland easily swiped the gun out of her hand.
“Damn, Franny, you’re bleeding like hell. We need to get you to a hospital too.” He looked over at some people, shouted orders.
“I’m okay. I’m better than he is. She shot him. She shot him. Copeland, you have to…”
Some EMTs rushed over with a stretcher. They talked to each other as they worked to get Royal moved onto it.
Copeland helped her to her feet, and out of the way. He held her in one place while deputies and EMTs swarmed the area. She wanted to be with Royal. She wanted…so many things, but her mind couldn’t seem to make a decision.
Except… She had the truth. Answers. Sort of. She looked up at Copeland helplessly.
“Copeland, she told me everything. I mean, not why, but…that she killed the kidnapper. That she was framing Royal. She was going to frame him for me too, but the story didn’t make sense.”
“We’ll take your statement once you’re checked out,” Copeland said gently. “I’m sure it’ll corroborate whatever angle the damn Feds are working from.” The EMTs were moving Royal, and Franny took a step toward him, but Copeland held firm.
“You can’t go with him, Franny. Hey, Bowman. Come check her out, huh?”
Another EMT came over, had Franny sit down on the ground. “I’ll clean this up and get a bandage on it, but she’s going to need to be transported too.”
“I’m fine.”
Both the EMT and Copeland gave her a disapproving look.
“We’ll get another ambulance here soon as we can. She’ll hold up all right,” the EMT said. She could feel his hands on her hair and she winced.
The pain she’d nearly forgotten in all her fear and panic was back, tenfold, throbbing through her body like a drumbeat. She was so, so tired all of a sudden that the EMT had to hold her up.
She looked up at where Copeland stood, still coordinating everything with that blank cop mask on.
“Copeland, it’s over now, right?”
He looked down at her, a flicker of emotion in his gaze now. Sympathy. Relief. “Yeah, Franny. It’s over.”
THE BEEPING WAS going to drive him insane.
It was the first coherent thought Royal’d had in what felt like a very long time. When he blinked his eyes open, nothing fully made sense except if that beeping didn’t stop he was going to…
Well, not a whole lot because he couldn’t seem to move the way he wanted to. He could turn his head, and when he did, he came face-to-face with his sister.
“Chick.” His voice sounded rough.
Brooke smiled, but she’d been crying. It was all over her face. Red eyes and puffy cheeks. “You’re really getting shot way too much for my personal comfort.”
“Had a vest this time.”
“Thank God.”
He tried to shift in the bed, but he didn’t feel in control of his limbs just yet, and he realized one of said limbs was in a cast. His left arm. He stared at it, not fully making sense of it. A broken arm. Must have been from the accident.
Accident. “Franny?”
“She’s doing all right. They stitched her up.
She had to stay overnight, but they released her today.
Just a nasty gash on her head, but otherwise she’s fine.
” Brooke scooted closer to the bed, peering at him.
“She’s waiting to see you. Refuses to leave until they let her.
They were only letting family sit with you while you were coming out of the anesthesia. ”
“She should go.”
Brooke frowned. “She wants to see you. Why should she go?”
He had answers for that, but he couldn’t seem to find them in the swimming feeling in his brain. “Am I dying or something?”
“No. Broken nose, broken arm, concussion, bruised and cracked ribs, honestly too many bumps, bruises and lacerations to count, but you’re going to be okay. If I have to personally see to it.”
“You need to take care of yourself, Chick.” She was pregnant. She shouldn’t be worrying over him. She didn’t say anything to that, just frowned disapprovingly at him.
Royal sighed. It hurt, but not the way it had. Pain killers, probably. Or that anesthesia Brooke was talking about. How long had he been out of it? He kind of remembered arriving, but everything around that was a blur.
One thing was clear though. “I wasn’t fast enough. Not the first time. Couldn’t get the car out of the way. I should have seen it coming. I should have known.”
Brooke studied him for a long time, that serious study that always felt like she saw more than he’d ever understand. She brushed at the hair on his forehead, like she had when he’d been a little kid. Before they’d been separated.
“You are incredibly brave, Royal. A hero. The people you’ve saved in your life would have died otherwise. So you don’t get to be hard on yourself.”
He didn’t argue with her. He wanted to, but he supposed now wasn’t the time.
Hero? With them all beat up like this? He didn’t think so.
But he heard Franny’s words in his head. You cannot tell me you aren’t good or brave, because that is the heart of who you are. Period.
Brooke stood. “I’m going to go get Franny.”
“What if I don’t want you to?” He had things to work out, and he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to how much he wanted… So much he wanted…
“You’re wrong,” Brooke said simply. “And you’ll have to tell her that. I’d suggest not.” She swept out of the room. Mad at him. Which wasn’t fair.
He didn’t think.
Didn’t matter. He had to think of the right words to get Franny to leave, and his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, so it’d be a challenge.
She came in, clasping her hands together. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and the clothes she was wearing were too big for her, clearly not hers. Hers had been ripped and bloody.
He could see her there. On the ground. It gripped him, all that fear sweeping through him again even as she moved across the room to hover over his bed, cleaned up, bandaged up and okay.
He’d been so sure he’d tell her to go away. To give him space. He couldn’t get the words out, because just looking at her made everything okay.
“Hi,” she said. Her green eyes were shiny with tears.
“Hi,” he managed, wanting to take those tears away.
But she smiled. It wobbled, but it was a smile.
“I… I don’t know how much Brooke told you, but Holand made it through surgery.
She’s going to go away for a very long time.
The Feds still won’t give a lot of details, but basically this woman has been a kind of informant of sorts, using her inside FBI knowledge to work for hire.
The group that kidnapped Albennie hired Holand to find her, then she hired the kidnapper.
I haven’t talked to Mr. Simmons yet—he’ll probably have more information—but it seems like everyone involved at every step is now in jail. ”
Royal didn’t really understand the words—he’d blame all the drugs in his system for now, but she just kept talking, standing there, hands clasped. Nervous and upset.
He’d been so sure this was it. He’d put a wall up. Look what had happened to her in just a few days of being involved with him? He was bad luck. A harbinger.
But she just babbled on about everything that had happened. How many stitches she’d gotten, how many times Rosalie had thrown up in the waiting room. Such silly little details and he just…couldn’t stand the thought of suddenly not having Franny in his life.
He didn’t want to be bad luck anymore.
He wanted…a future. To be the brave and the good she saw. Wasn’t that why he’d become a cop? Wasn’t that why he’d stayed here in Bent County? A future meant believing he deserved one. He didn’t deserve her.
But he’d work at it.
She sat abruptly in the chair Brooke had vacated, looked pained. “I’m probably giving you a headache.”
But she wasn’t. “I like hearing your voice.”
Her mouth curved and she leaned forward, touching a spot on his forehead. “I like seeing your eyes open.”
For a few quiet moments, they just stared at each other, maybe reassuring themselves the other was all right.
“When I’m on my own two feet again. And you don’t have that bandage on your head. We’re going to go out.”
She blinked once. “Out?”
“To dinner. A movie. Whatever. A date.” He tried to move, winced when it hurt. “Like normal people.”
“A date?” she repeated.
“Yes,” he said firmly.
“Oh. Well, okay.”
“You want to, don’t you?” he demanded.
She was looking at him with serious green eyes. “Yes. Though I don’t know how normal I can be. But I can try.”
He laughed. It hurt. But somehow that was…just right now too. “Well, okay then. That’s what we’ll do. But don’t try to be normal. Just be you.”
“I think that’s a compliment,” she grumbled. “Are you sure you’re not delusional?” she asked, leaning forward. “Hyped up on pain killers and anesthesia. You might change your mind.”
He stared at her. After everything, all this, his whole damn life, she still made him smile. “I’m sure. I won’t. I like having you in my life, Franny.”
She swallowed hard. “You’re a real hero, Royal.”
Well, it wasn’t going to be easy. He shifted, winced at the pain. “I don’t know about all that.”
“I do. That Holand woman… She said heroes are fictional. But she’s wrong. Maybe heroes aren’t all perfectly good, but there are heroes.” Her eyes filled with tears again, but they still didn’t fall. “People who do the right thing in the face of bad things, hard things. That’s you.”
He didn’t want to believe it, but Brooke had said it. Franny had said it. How could he argue with two of the best, strongest women he knew?
“Well, then it’s you too, Franny.”
She looked puzzled for a minute, then straightened her shoulders. “You know what? I’ll take it.”
He managed a little bit of a laugh, even if it hurt.
Maybe he’d learn to take it too. With her.