35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
KINSLEY
“ W ho fired first?” the Director of the FBI asks in a growly tone as he steps into the tiny conference room at the hospital. He’s tall and lean, with thinning brown hair that’s slicked over a bald spot in the center of his head. His suit is black and at least a size too big.
I clear my throat and blink back the tears welling in my eyes. “Everett. Everett Knight.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “And Officer Beckett. At what point did she discharge her weapon?”
I survey him with a frown. What does it matter? If she hadn’t fired at Everett, he would have fired again, killing Ethan and then me.
“Do you remember the sequence of the rounds that were fired?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Everett shot at Ethan first, but after that, it gets hazy,” I admit.
Everything happened so fast. One minute, I was at my sister’s house, and in the next, the bartender from the biker bar was demanding I tell him where Derrick was. Only, I didn’t know he was asking about Derrick. He kept calling him Oliver. And then the gunfire started, and Ethan was bleeding in my arms.
He grinds his molars and assesses my clean T-shirt.
My clothing was covered in blood, but a nurse tracked down a set of scrub pants and a T-shirt when we arrived.
“When an officer kills a civilian, regardless of whether said civilian is a wanted assassin, a full investigation has to take place. So Officer Beckett is on administrative leave, pending ballistics.”
My heart lurches. “But why? She saved Ethan’s life.”
“We needed Everett alive. She was trained to disarm, not kill.”
After he leaves, Jill, Logan, Carter, and Andy appear, taking turns pulling me into tight hugs.
“He’s in surgery,” Jill says, wiping at her eyes. “He was shot three times.”
I nod. The vision of Ethan bleeding out flashes before me.
“Goddamn vest should’ve protected him,” Andy snarls.
I blow out a breath. If only the bullets had hit him in the vest. God, the amount of blood he lost in those first few minutes while I held him, begging him to stay awake, seems impossible.
“C’mon,” Logan says, pressing a hand to the small of my back. “Let’s go wait with Mom.”
On shaky legs, I obey. Inside the waiting room, Ethan’s mom is surrounded by a dozen cops and talking to a nurse.
“He is in critical condition,” the nurse says. “But we have two of our best doctors taking care of him. The surgery itself will likely take a few hours, so if you all need to get coffee or food, you have plenty of time. The cafeteria is in the basement. I’ll give you an update once he’s stable.” She pats Donna’s arm and then disappears through the set of white doors that lead back into the emergency room.
The first two hours drag by, and we’re given no news. I alternate between sitting and pacing the room, but because there are so many people in here, it’s difficult to go far. The third hour is even slower, and I find myself trying to keep my eyes open as I lean against the wall next to Jill.
At the top of the fourth hour, the doors finally open. The nurse who first updated us returns, her chin lifted, and says, “Good news. The surgeons were able to remove all three bullets.”
Despite the words— good news —she’s not smiling.
“Bad news,” she continues, and nausea churns in my stomach. “There was a lot of internal damage to his shoulder. The doctors are still working on him. They’re estimating another few hours at a minimum, so there’s no need to wait around here.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” one of the officers grumbles. His statement is followed by a chorus of agreements.
“I figured.” She shakes her head. “But I wanted to prepare you all and warn you that he won’t be in any shape for visitors when he wakes up.”
When the nurse leaves, the entire room breathes a sigh of relief.
All except me. I can’t find any solace in the news. Ethan almost lost his life, and all because of me.
“Jill,” a sharp voice echoes off the stark-white walls, pulling me from my ruminations.
A woman appears then, hurrying toward us. She’s about my height, with bleach-blond hair set in loose waves, and she’s dressed in a white and yellow floral dress that falls to her shins, matching yellow heels, and a pearl necklace that sits along her collarbone.
“Victoria?” Jill says, sounding surprised.
“Is he okay?” Worry drips from her voice.
Victoria. As in, Queen Victoria, Ethan’s fiancée. Ex -fiancée. The woman who hired me to break off their engagement.
Jill gets to her feet, and Victoria wraps her up in a tight embrace. “He’s still in surgery.”
“But he’ll be okay, right? He has to be okay,” she sobs. “I told him his job was too dangerous.”
As I watch the two of them, my heart cracks open.
What am I doing? Ethan’s entire family is here. His brothers and sister. His mom and his coworkers. And now Victoria. Everybody here has one thing in common. They all love Ethan. And I, quite possibly, may love him too. This realization burns deep inside my belly.
I shouldn’t be here.
Taking a step away from the two women, I pull out my phone, my natural instinct to call my sister taking over. But as I unlock the screen, it hits me. She’s gone. Derrick is Oliver, and Everett is an assassin.
How much did Tessa know? Her words before she left— promise me you’ll call Mom —float through my mind.
My chest tightens at the thoughts. But I can’t stay here. So I slip away and head straight outside. It’s dark, though the lights inside the hospital spill out onto the sidewalk.
I puff out my cheeks and reluctantly pull up my mom’s contact. I’ve been stubborn, keeping her at arm’s length for so long. And for what? So I wouldn’t be hurt again, when in reality, I’ve been hurting this entire time? I’ve hidden away from love when love is all I’ve ever wanted.
A tear slips from my eye as I bring the phone to my ear. It only rings twice before she picks up.
“Baby. Are you okay?”