We watched as the police worked, then the ambulance was there, then Duke helped me into Bobby’s SUV and Bobby took off behind the ambulance, fol owing close.

He was on his cel , listening to someone, then he said,

“It’s bad.”

Yes, he was right, it was bad. It was very, very, very bad.

Bobby angled into an il egal spot outside Denver Health but I was out of the truck before he came to a ful stop. He caught up to me and we entered the emergency room together.

The receptionist stared at me, her eyes rounding with horror and she began to stand.

“She’s unhurt, it’s someone else’s blood,” Bobby took over, talking to reception.

I pul ed my cel out of my back pocket and scrol ed down to Daisy and hit the button.

Daisy answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Sugar. We just picked up Ada and we’re headin’—”

I interrupted her.

“Fifteen minutes ago, Dad was flung out of a moving car on Broadway. He’s been beaten, stabbed and shot. I’m at Denver Health. Can you find a good way to break it to Mom and Lottie and get over here?”

Silence for a beat, then, quietly, “You betcha, darlin’.” I flipped the phone shut and saw Bobby take a piece of fabric from the receptionist, then he grabbed my arm and pul ed me in the direction where she was pointing. We went into the emergency ward, he opened a door and we went into an empty room with an exam table, a bunch of medical stuff and a sink. He took me to the sink.

“Shirt off,” he said.

“What?”

His hands went to my t-shirt at my h*ps and he whipped it over my head. I stood frozen and stared at the t-shirt in his hand. It was covered in blood.

“You don’t want your mother seeing you in that shirt. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He handed me the fabric, it was a green scrubs top. I put it on while he walked to a biohazard bag, opened the top and shoved my shirt in. He grabbed some gauze on the way back, shoved it under the tap, switched it on, wet the gauze and turned back to me.

“You’re f**kin’ covered,” he muttered, wiping at my neck, eyes on his task, face set like it was carved from stone.

I looked down. He was right, the shirt was gone but there was blood al over my arms, neck and jeans.

“Bobby…” I said and my voice broke on his name.

His eyes came to me.

“Don’t. Don’t do it, Jet. You’re hangin’ in there. Don’t break now.”

I nodded and swal owed.

Bobby’s eyes dropped to my neck and he started wiping, the door opened and Eddie was there.

I looked at him. Bobby looked at him. Eddie looked at us.

“Jesus f**king Christ,” Eddie whispered but I could hear it from across the room.

“It’s not my blood,” I told him.

He came forward, Bobby gave him the gauze and vanished.

Eddie didn’t hesitate and he didn’t look at me, he just started wiping.

Then he tossed the bloody gauze in the sink and went to get more.

When he’d wiped off al the blood, I said, “There was a lot of blood.”

His eyes came to mine.

“I could see.”

“No, I mean, on Dad.”

His hand came to my jaw. “I know what you mean.” I stared at him. “I want to cry.”

His eyes went from careful y blank to warm.

“Have at it, Chiquita.”

“Bobby told me not to break.”

“Bobby’s a macho idiot.”

His hand moved from my jaw, slid into my hair and he pul ed my head to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his middle and he moved his arm around my waist, the other hand stayed in my hair.

I took a deep breath. It broke in the middle a couple of times but I didn’t cry.

We stood there, holding on to each other for a good long while.

Then I realized something, something tremendously good and something frighteningly bad.

Eddie was my anchor. I was a boat, tossed on the seas in an ugly storm that wanted to engulf me and Eddie was keeping me tethered and safe.

How did that happen?

I’d been tossing on the seas for twenty-eight years, I was used to flipping around on the waves by myself, bailing out the water like a mad fool.

How did I get used to an anchor?

What if that anchor broke off?

Shit and damn.

Bobby was right, I couldn’t break.

I had to keep bailing, I couldn’t get used to an anchor.

“Mom and Lottie might be here,” I said to Eddie’s chest.

“Cariña…”

I lifted my head, put my hands to his waist, pushed away a bit and looked at him.

“I have to go out there and talk to them. See if the doctors have anything to say yet.”

He stared at me a beat and then, final y, he said, “You aren’t in this alone.”

I tried to pul away but he brought me back with his arms tightening.

“Jet, you aren’t alone.”

I nodded and tried to smile.

It didn’t work.

His hands came to my face, holding me by the jaw and he did a lip touch.

he did a lip touch.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

His lips twitched but it wasn’t exactly amused and it wasn’t exactly unamused.

“You’re so ful of shit.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chilli

By the time we got to the waiting room, Mom, Daisy, Tex, Ada and Lottie were there. They’d been told Dad was in surgery. That’s it, nothing else. It was now a waiting game.

Eddie took his badge out of his back pocket, hooked it onto his belt and walked to reception to see if he could get more answers.

I caught the gang staring at the blood on my jeans, then Mom moved forward and pul ed me into a one-armed hug, Lottie joined us and we became the McAlister huddle.

Then Tex engulfed us with his wide arm span and Daisy burrowed in, bringing Ada with her.

Tex, Daisy and Ada gave the only thing they had to give, seeing as they weren’t surgeons, nurses or miracle workers, they gave comfort and we took it.

Eddie walked up to us, Tex noticed and we disengaged.

Eddie put me into the Eddie’s Woman Hold and said, straight out, “Gunshot wounds were from the other night and shoulda been treated, stab wounds more recent. He lost a lot of blood and Slick did a lot of damage. It doesn’t look good.”

I was glad he said it straight out. I wanted to know and it said a lot that he trusted me enough to say it, though tears started rol ing from Lottie’s eyes.

Indy came in a few minutes later with the cookies she’d made the night before. Al y fol owed her with a cardboard tray fil ed with lattes that Jane had made.