Page 37 of Shadow Secrets
Sebastian grabbed his wrist. The nurse twisted, drove a knee into Sebastian’s ribs, and wrenched his arm free. A fist connected with Sebastian’s mouth, splitting his lower lip. He caught the gun hand again and slammed it against the concrete. Once. Twice. The pistol clattered free.
The nurse went for it. Sebastian locked an arm around his throat, hauled him backward, and drove him face-first into the ground. He pinned the wrist behind the man’s back. The man bucked once, twice, then went still.
“Stay down.” Sebastian’s voice was guttural. Blood dripped from his lip onto the back of the man’s scrubs. He withdrew zip ties from his jacket, securing the man’s wrists.
Garrett was out of the driver’s seat, weapon drawn, scanning the perimeter for additional threats. His voice was on the radio. “Claire, I need your team now.”
Claire’s agents appeared—two from the parking lot, one from the east corridor. They converged on the pinned man. Handcuffs replaced zip ties. He was hauled to his feet. His face was scraped from the concrete, his nose bleeding, but his eyes were flat. Even captured, he didn’t look scared. He looked inconvenienced.
As Sebastian turned his full attention on Sutton, she scanned the blood, his torn shirt, the raw violence of what she’d just watched happen, hitting her.
“You’re safe,” he said. His voice came out thick around the split lip.
He climbed into the back seat with her. CB followed. Jasper was already up front. Garrett pulled out, tires biting gravel as the SUV accelerated toward the highway.
Sutton shook, her hands jerking in her lap, her breath coming in short gasps that she couldn’t steady. The SUV’s engine roared beneath them as Garrett took the highway on-ramp faster than the speed limit suggested was wise.
Sebastian put an arm around her. Blood was still seeping from his lower lip, running down his chin, warm and persistent. “I’ve got you.”
CB leaned around Sutton. “Nice takedown.”
Sebastian winced and rubbed his left ribcage. He didn’t respond except to nod in acknowledgment. “Are you okay?” he asked Sutton.
“Yeah,” she said, the single word shaky.
She was so not fine. She shrugged off his arm and began taking off her jacket. The flannel shirt came next as he frowned at her. She’d layered the flannel over her tank that morning. She pressed the sleeve of the shirt against his lip.
He flinched away. “I’m fine, too.”
“Shut up,” she said. Her voice cracked on the second word. She held the flannel against his split lip with a pressure that was too firm to be gentle.
The SUV bounced over potholes. Lifting her other hand, she held onto his jaw, steadying his face. He let her.
“You’re bleeding on my shirt,” she said. Her voice was thick.
His brows pinched together. His words came out muffled. “You’re holding it to my face.”
“Because you’re an idiot who tackles men with guns.”
“That’s literally my job.”
She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. Her hand trembled against his lip. He reached up, wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Her pulse hammered under them, fast and wild.
“Dom moved,” she whispered. “His eyes. His fingers. He’s in there, Lynx.”
“I saw.”
“And then that man—the gun—he was right there. If you hadn’t—” Her breath hitched. She pressed the flannel harder against his lip, like applying pressure to a wound she could see was the only way to manage the ones she couldn’t. “You put yourself between me and a bullet.”
The parallel wasn’t lost on either of them. Six years ago, he’d done the same thing for Ginger. Put his body in the line of fire, took the round, and killed the man behind it.
This time, the bullet had missed. This time, he’d walked away with a split lip instead of three weeks in the ICU. But the reflex was the same. The willingness was the same.
Sutton didn’t see the hero from the headlines, but the man who would do it again, without hesitation. That’s who he was at the core.
“It’s over,” she said. The words tumbled out fast, urgent, like she needed to hear them as much as say them. “They caught him. Claire has the shooter. It’s over.”
Sebastian brushed a finger over her cheek, wiping the tears cutting tracks through her face. “Yes.”
