45. London
It felt like the hospital floor bobbed and weaved beneath my feet as I hurried through its halls.
Like I was on a boat, ironically enough.
Despite the assurances around me and the feel of Ramsay’s strong hand on my back guiding me through wide corridors with floors that squeaked underfoot, I was overtaken with panic.
Around thirty-six hours ago, Murray had left to embark on a dangerous undercover operation and now I was here at a hospital in Dublin. In freaking Ireland. Without him. Kelly was back on Glenvulin with Fiona, and I wasn’t sure that was fair, but that’s what had been decided.
Truthfully, I’d imagined a million horrors over the past day and a half, and no matter what I was told, I still felt close to passing out.
“This way.” Ramsay stopped me, gesturing with his head toward a private hospital room.
I sucked in a deep breath, and he frowned but didn’t say anything before he knocked and pushed the door open.
Tentatively, I stepped inside, my gaze automatically zooming in on the bed.
But movement in my periphery drew my frantic search as Murray unfolded himself from the chair in the corner of the room.
I think I let out a small animal sound as my knees buckled, but Murray caught me, sweeping me up into his arms as I let go of all my anxiety.
“A ghràidh, I’m here,” he murmured gruffly in my ear, his embrace unyielding. “I’m here, a ghràidh.”
The sobs shook through me even as I pulled back to move my hands over his chest, making sure he was whole and unhurt.
“I’m fine.” Murray cupped my face, his brows together with concern. “Please, my love, I’m all right. I promise.”
“Aye. He’s no’ the one who got shot.” An unfamiliar voice drew my gaze back to the bed.
A stranger lay there, a small smirk on his handsome face.
His dark brown skin was tinged with gray, proof that this man had just been gravely injured.
However, there was a reassuring twinkle in his beautiful hazel eyes.
When Fraser called to tell me that an officer had been shot trying to protect Murray, I swear I only partially heard him. Even though everyone kept telling me Murray was fine, for some reason I just couldn’t believe it until I saw him with my own eyes.
Being married to this man, having him love me back, being welcomed into his family by his daughter … it all just seemed too good to be true. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop because that’s all that had ever seemed to happen in my life. The other shoe always dropped.
Yet Murray was here. Alive and well, if more than a little sleep deprived.
I reluctantly released him to walk around the bed. Tentatively, I took Detective Sergeant Davis’s hand in mine and squeezed. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my husband’s life.”
Murray had been in the hospital the entire time while DS Davis was in surgery to have the bullet removed from his left shoulder.
As such, he didn’t have a phone signal, so it was up to a “doped up on adrenaline” Fraser to explain that one of the thugs had shot at Murray during the arrest and the officer in charge, DS Davis, had thrown himself in front of him.
I understood Murray not wanting to leave his side until he knew the man would be all right.
The officer grinned, attractive dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Well, if I’d known his wife was so bonny, I mightn’t have saved the bastard.”
Ramsay gave an amused bark while Murray crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re lucky you saved my life, or we’d be having words about you flirting with my wife in front of me.”
I giggled as I released Davis’s hand and patted it gently. “You have my thanks, anyway.”
“Just doing my job.” He nodded, his amusement softening into sincerity. “I promised Shaw he’d get home to you and his daughter. I keep my promises.”
Suddenly, there was a clatter of noise outside and then the door burst open, and Tierney marched in, hurrying over to Ramsay as Taran, Quinn, Cammie, and Forde poured into the small hospital room. “I tried to stop them.”
“We needed to see for ourselves that Murray’s okay,” Cammie argued, gaze softening at the sight of my husband. “You’re forgiven for going off on some hell-bent mission without telling anyone.”
Murray raised his hands. “I appreciate you all coming, but you can’t be in here. Davis is just out of surgery.”
“You saved Murray?” Taran took a step toward the bed, eyes wide. “Thank you so much.”
DS Davis appeared more than a little amused. “Aye, you’re welcome.”
“This is ridiculous.” Ramsay scowled at our friends. “The man is recovering from a bullet wound. Get the fuck out.”
“Nice.” Cammie huffed. “We come all the way to Ireland to make sure our friend is okay and thank the man responsible. Good bedside manners, McRae.”
“Are you all from Leth Sholas, then?” Davis asked, his gaze on Cammie.
“Aye, these are my friends.” Murray scrubbed a hand over his beard. “They mean well. Sorry.”
“Nah, no worries.” His gaze moved from me to Taran, to Tierney, and back to Cammie, sticking there. “I think I’m living on the wrong bloody island.”
Cammie beamed flirtatiously. “All heroes are welcome on Glenvulin. Especially attractive ones.”
“Right, we’re out of here.” Forde took hold of Cammie’s arm. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
“Forde!” Cammie squawked at his manhandling, but he wound his arm around her waist for greater purchase and physically guided her out of the room.
“Sorry.” Taran winced.
“Thanks, man.” Quinn waved a hand at him before following Taran out.
“Yes, thank you.” Nee nodded to Davis before throwing me a relieved smile.
Ramsay patted the bottom of the bed. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find us.”
The door swung shut behind our friends and Murray came to my side, resting his hand on my lower back as he looked down at Davis. “What McRae said.”
“Look, I appreciate it. I just did my job. You did not have to involve yourself in an operation like this, but you did. I was making sure you got home to all those people who clearly care a great deal for you. I’ve no regrets for saving the life of a man who inspires that kind of loyalty.”
I knew Murray well enough to know he was moved. He nodded gratefully.
“DI Smith will be in touch soon, eh. But the first thing they told me when I came out of surgery is that the operation went well. Few casualties, mostly the bad guys. The Walsh brothers are done.”
I wanted to ask what it meant for the future, if they’d be a threat we had to worry about down the line, but I didn’t want to pester the man when he was barely out of anesthesia.
Instead, we thanked him again, and I walked out of the hospital holding firmly onto the hand of my very alive, very brave husband.