Page 87 of Dare to Love Again

Following his gaze, which moved systematically over her chest and belly as Eric’s had done, for the first time she saw her blouse. Once white, it was now stained crimson. So much had soaked through the silky material it clung to her skin.

The moment Carlos put a bullet in Gerald’s chest flashed before her eyes. She relived the bullet’s impact, the sick sound as it ripped through flesh, and the warm splatter of blood onto her face as the bullet exited his back and came only inches from Esme’s head.

“Get it off!” she cried in horror. Her fingers curled into claws as she tore at the buttons.

“Mo chuisle,”he uttered, attempting to soothe her as he caught her wrists. “Let me see to you.”

“No! Too much blood. Get it off,” she repeated, struggling against his hold.

“Esme, stop!” he ordered sharply, fingers like steel bands trapping her hands against his chest. “You’ll hurt yourself more. You’re in shock, baby. We’ll take care of you first, then clean you up, I promise.”

Suddenly, she froze, his stern command, but more so his concern for her penetrating at some level. Staring up into his handsome face, ravaged with worry, she whispered, “It’s not mine, Finn.”

“Then whose?” he demanded, searching her face to make sense of it.

“Carlos was at my office and shot my boss. He landed on top of me.” Her face and body crumpled, falling against him weakly, as the brutal scene flashed before her again. The sobs returned. “I’m fine, but Gerald... He’s dead; this is his blood.”

He swept her up in his arms and cradled her close. When her fingers curled into his shirt, gripping him like he was a lifeline, his hold tightened. “I’ve got you, love. Let’s get you upstairs.”

When he moved, a wave of dizziness assailed her, and she closed her eyes.

His men followed, their boots thudding loudly on the tile.

“Carlos who?” one of them asked.

“Does she mean Hernandez? From the club?” inquired another.

“Formerly of the club,” a third corrected. “Eric kicked him out.”

“What does that have to do with Esme and her boss?” the first man inquired.

“Good question,” Finn muttered.

“So much blood,” she whispered, “and death. Just like before.”

A rushing sound filled her ears, and she felt her body go limp. Her fingers no longer able to hold on, released Finn’s shirt. Then, all she knew was blackness.

***

ESME DIDN’T BAT ANeye when he took her downstairs to the locker room, removed her blood-soaked clothes then carried her in a dead faint into the shower. He examined every inch of her body as he washed her clean then had her dried and dressed in oversized sweats from his locker by the time the paramedics arrived. They insisted on evaluating her and, except for a nasty bruise and swelling over her right cheek, found no other injuries. Keiran knew they were there, deep emotional wounds, invisible to the eye.

Her vital signs were normal. Still they wanted to take her in because she wasn’t responding. Thomas arrived in time to explain he was her personal physician and she was under his care. They looked skeptical, but after seeing his credentials and without medical cause, other than being sound asleep from mental exhaustion, they packed up, got Thomas’ MD on the dotted line, and took off.

“She’ll be safer here than in a packed ER somewhere,” he’d explained when Keiran thanked him. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but it involves Carlos Hernandez and Esme’s boss, a local criminal defense attorney.” He gazed down at her pale face and motionless form, other than the slow rise and fall of her chest. “I don’t want to leave her like this, but if you’ll stay and watch over her, I’ll go figure it out.”

“Certainly, I will,” Thomas assured him with a hard clap on his shoulder. “The little redhead got under your skin, quick.”

“Yeah, and she’s dug deep. If it’s up to me, she’s there for good.”

Val arrived shortly after and sat with Esme who still slept soundly on his office couch. She wanted to be there when she woke, in case she was still in distress, and Keiran didn’t argue. This freed Thomas up to man the control room, as he pulled men off noncritical assignments to help make sense of whatever shit had gone down, putting his woman smack dab in the middle.

While he made the calls, Keiran got in touch with Jonas Mitchell, the best computer man in the company, and had him dig deeper into Carlos, and Gerald Reinhart. With that in the works, he and Eric visited their contacts in the LA Police Department.

Leads were coming in, money trails were popping up, and by evening, he and his team had connected the dots, including narrowing down Hernandez’s whereabouts to one of four locations. The detectives were making headway, but they also had other homicides they were working where Keiran and his men did not. Their snail’s pace wasn’t fast enough for him, not with Esme’s life in danger. He assembled the team at the office and gave them their assignments, expecting to have this wrapped up, with the asshole terrorizing Esme turned over to the police by morning.

Before he headed out, he stopped in once more to check on her.

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