Pages of Promise: Clean Romantic Suspense (Coastal Hope) by Jessica Ashley

Author:Jessica Ashley [Ashley, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B.A.D. Publishing, LLC
Published: 2024-02-04T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Eliza

For the second time today, Lance hits me like a linebacker, taking me to the ground and covering me with his body. The air is knocked from my lungs, his heavy weight pressing down on me. Doc is right there, too, dodging out of the way as glass rains down on us. A scream echoes through the house, and it takes my throat burning for me to realize that it’s coming from me.

Will this ever stop?

The fight I seem destined to live over and over again?

“Stay down,” Lance whispers in my ear as he gets to his feet. I roll over so I can watch him crawl over broken glass toward a red brick in the center of his living room. “You good, Doc?"

"All good over here,” he says as he crouches low and crosses to me. “Are you okay?” He looks me over, and I wince when his finger touches my cheek.

“I’m okay.”

“You won’t need stitches; it’s just a cut.” He smiles reassuringly, but I can see the worry in his grey gaze. Reaching into his pocket, he dials 911 and rattles off Lance’s address as he asks for an ambulance.

My gaze remains on Lance. His shirt is saturated with blood; how much more he can lose, I’m not sure.

But it can’t be much. I’m not even sure how he’s still on his feet.

“Is it a bomb?” Doc asks as he sets down his phone.

“Bomb?” I choke out. It’s then I realize Lance is kneeling over something on the floor.

“No. Just a brick with a note.”

“Good. Then it can wait. You can’t.” Doc grabs his medical bag from the floor where it fell and rushes over toward Lance, who looks even paler now than he did a few minutes ago. He hisses through clenched teeth as Doc pulls his hand away and grips the neck of his shirt.

He shreds the fabric away, revealing a blood-smeared, muscled torso. Scars mar the muscled expanse of his chest, old, puckered wounds that resemble what I imagine the one on his shoulder will look like once it heals.

How many times has he been shot?

How many times has he nearly died?

“Can you come here?” Doc asks me. “Just stay low. I could use an extra pair of hands.”

“She needs to stay down,” Lance insists even as his head falls back against the couch.

“She needs you to stay alive,” Doc retorts. “Come, dear. Just stay low.”

I swallow hard then do as Doc said, crawling on the ground and doing my best to avoid the glass, though tiny shards still eat into my palms and knees. As soon as I’m beside Lance, Doc grabs one of my hands and presses it against the towel.

“Maintain pressure here, I’m going to get a quick wrap on. Just enough to hold until the ambulance gets here.”

“It looks worse than it is,” Lance jokes, but his eyes begin to close.

“Lance! Wake up.” I shake him.

He opens his eyes, but his gaze is unfocused. “I’ve had worse. Just a flesh wound.

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