Page 7 of Wounded Fox
"That's bullshit and you know it." Ms. Daisy cleared her throat loud enough that Aaron sighed. "Pardon me, Ms. Daisy," he said before continuing on with his rant. "Everyone in town knows you mean something to me."
"And whose fault is that?" I didn't bother to hide my frustration. "Besides, we both know there isn't a single person here who is going to tell a stranger that."
"These aren't exactly the kind of people who ask. They stalk and observe. They're patient enough to find out the information they want and then attack."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "So they're exactly like you, then." I wasn't exactly playing fair, but in my defense, I was caught off guard when he stormed into my shop and demanded that I move in with him for my safety. I had no doubt that, physically, he could keep me safe, but mentally it would be a disaster. And at this point in my life, I avoided anything that was detrimental to my mental health.
"That's not . . ." Aaron didn't get to finish his sentence before he was diving forward and tackling me to the ground.
"What the . . ." And that's when I heard it. Glass shattering. Ms. Daisy screaming. Aaron yelling into his phone as he lay on top of me. I didn't know what the hell was happening but I forced myself to turn my head away from Aaron's chest. Now wasn't the time to notice how he still smelled the same after all these years.
I wasn't sure how long we lay like that; Aaron sprawled on top of me and me noticing every inch of him that was touching me from his thick thighs all the way up to his muscular chest and everything in between.
It could've been two seconds or twenty minutes for all I knew. I would say though it felt like the latter before I heard additional voices.
"Aaron?" Maverick was the first to reach us, and dang it, I didn't want to admit that I felt something other than relief when Aaron was pulled up off of me.
"We need an ambulance over here!" Hendrix hollered and that got me moving because the only other person who had been in the store when things went to shit was Ms. Daisy.
I scrambled on my hands and knees across the store until I got to where Ms. Daisy was lying on the floor with a scowl on her face.
"I'm fine." The old woman smacked at Hendrix's hand where he was trying to place it over a spot on her wrinkly arm. Small droplets of blood marked her white blouse right where what appeared to be a burn mark seared into the sleeve.
"You're not fine,” Hendrix insisted. “A bullet grazed your arm."
"You were shot!?" I covered my mouth with my hands and screeched out the question.
If I didn't know better—and I did because Ms. Daisy had told me on more than one occasion that a woman of her pedigree would never roll her eyes—I would've sworn Ms. Daisy just rolled her eyes at me. "Not shot, my dear. Grazed. Shot would imply the bullet entered my body, which it did not." The old woman looked sideways at her shirt. "Dear heavens, they ruined my favorite blouse."
I was sure my eyes grew three times their size at the ridiculousness of the conversation but Hendrix had the nerve to laugh. "I knew I always liked you the best, Ms. Daisy." He helped her sit up as the paramedics entered my store.
I watched, dazed, as people moved around me like it was just another day in the shop. Even the paramedics weren't in a rush and were busy joking with Ms. Daisy.
"Did I hit my head? Enter the twilight zone?" I asked no one in particular but it was Aaron who answered me.
"I don't think so." He felt around the back of my head with his hands. "I thought I got my hand behind your head before we hit the ground but maybe I'm wrong."
I slapped his hands away. "It was a rhetorical question because everyone is acting like it's no big deal that Ms. Daisy got shot."
Did insurance cover shootings? Did my plan cover a customer getting shot? I considered myself a pretty savvy business owner but even I didn't think about adding bullet wounds to my coverage.
"Trust me, we are taking things very seriously."
I turned my head and gave Aaron the strangest look. What the hell was he talking about? Taking what seriously?
Aaron must've understood my silent questions because he was quick to answer. "Ms. Daisy getting hurt. I assure you everyone is taking it very seriously."
Shit, I forgot we had been talking about that before my mind wandered off to insurance and all the things I was going to have to do now that this happened.
"Over here!" Aaron waved to another set of paramedics. "I cradled her head when we hit the ground but I think you should check her out anyway." Aaron spoke about me like I was a child and not an adult the same age as him.
For the second time today, I slapped at a set of hands that tried to probe my head. "I'm fine. I didn't hit the floor that hard." Maybe my ass was bruised but I wasn't about to tell either of these men that. Aaron didn't deserve to know a damn thing about my ass and the paramedic was young enough to be myson, if I had been lucky enough to have kids, and I had watched his mother change his diaper a time or two. Not exactly someone I wanted looking at my backside.
"Ms. Moore, with all due respect, it's my job to make sure you're okay."
"Well,Ryan," I emphasized his first name to show just how much it aggravated me that he was being so formal, "as the patient, I'm telling you I'm fine. I'm sure you have a refusal form of some sort that I can sign."
"I don't think signing a refusal is a good idea," Aaron had the nerve to say.
