The Strong Silent Type. Marie Ferrarella. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Marie Ferrarella
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
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from his icy-blue eyes as much as with his gun. “Give me an excuse. Just one excuse.”

      Clearly shaken, the second man threw down his weapon and raised his hands. His eyes never left Hawk’s. “Okay, I did like you said. Just don’t shoot me.”

      “Step away from the guns,” Teri ordered, waving them back with her own weapon. Only when the men complied did she allow herself to look in Hawk’s direction. She did her best to brazen it out. “Good imitation of Dirty Harry. My father would really like you.”

      Picking up the burglars’ weapons, Hawk didn’t trust himself to answer immediately.

      Chapter Two

      It seemed as if only seconds had gone by. Suddenly, the roof was alive with uniformed personnel that poured out from both the fire escape and the rooftop entrance.

      The extra commotion only added to the lightheaded feeling Teri vainly struggled to keep at bay.

      She was careful to keep her eyes trained forward. Any quick movements on her part seemed guaranteed to make her lose her bearings and fall.

      “About time you got here,” she said to one of the policeman. “The fun’s all over.”

      The officer closest to her took one look at the growing red splotch to the right of her rib cage. “Looks like it just started. In case you missed it, you’ve been shot.” Concerned, he raised his eyes to her face. “You better get yourself to a hospital.”

      Drawing in a deep breath was out of the question. Breathing itself was becoming a challenge for her. She was deathly afraid she was going to pass out.

      “Yeah, I guess I’d better.” She couldn’t manage the sentence without a sense of dread descending over her. The hospital was the last place she wanted to go.

      “Finally, something sensible,” Hawk said.

      Pressing her hand over her wound to stop the ooze of blood, Teri slowly turned to look at her partner. She wasn’t about to give in to this pain; she wasn’t. “Wow, you volunteered something on your own.”

      “And you’re being smart. Red letter day for both of us.” Hawk stepped back as a patrolman snapped handcuffs on the two suspects. As he did, he glanced at Teri’s face. The last time he’d gone to the mountains, the snow hadn’t looked as white as her skin. Fear put in another appearance, stronger this time. “Hey, Cavanaugh, are you all right?”

      Her knees suddenly went soft on her and someone had tilted the sky, leaving it at almost a right angle. Afraid of falling and embarrassing herself, Teri grabbed on to the first thing she came in contact with.

      It turned out to be Hawk.

      “Yeah.” She exhaled the word shakily. “Just peachy.” She needed a few minutes, just a few minutes to get a grip, then she would be all right. Pressing her other hand harder against her wound, she managed a tight smile. “Who turned the roof on? It’s spinning.”

      The same police officer looked at Hawk uncertainly. “Want me to call the paramedics?” Hawk’s glare ended any debate that might have emerged on the pros and cons of the situation. “I’ll call the paramedics,” the officer volunteered.

      She didn’t want a fuss, and least of all, she didn’t want to be excluded from the action. “I don’t need paramedics, just a bullet to bite on.”

      “You need to dig it out of your side first.” With the suspects safely handcuffed, one of the officers raised a quizzical brow in Hawk’s direction. Frowning, Hawk waved the patrolmen on their way. “Take them to the precinct and book ’em.”

      There were statements to take from the victims in 2E and that was best done while the memory of events and the order they transpired in was still fresh. But Teri had been shot, and who knew how bad it really was? He had to see to it that she was taken care of. He wasn’t about to leave her here and expect her to get herself to the ground floor. Right now, she didn’t look capable of getting herself two feet from where she was standing. Or sinking.

      Turning toward Teri, he took hold of her by the arm. “I’ll take you downstairs.”

      “I can walk,” she retorted, but two steps toward the rooftop entrance proved her to be a liar. She grabbed Hawk’s arm again. “Okay, maybe not.”

      He didn’t have time for this—to help her take tiny steps to the roof’s stairwell and down the flight to the elevator—and she was obviously in no shape to do it on her own.

      With an annoyed, unintelligible grunt, Hawk never hesitated. He swept her up into his arms. She didn’t weigh much, but then, he hadn’t expected that she would. She was five foot three something and filled with hot air. Hot air was never very heavy.

      Teri wanted to protest, but she couldn’t find the energy. This was a whole lot better than trying to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other. “I had no idea you were this gallant.”

      He ignored the looks of officers who were vacating the roof. He’d never much cared about what people thought one way or another, as long as they didn’t get in his way. “I’m not. I’m pragmatic.”

      She smiled at him. He could say what he wanted, but she knew he cared about her. This was a whole other side of Hawk she’d never seen before. Too bad it had taken her getting shot for it to emerge. Something warm began to stir within her. “Was that one of King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table?”

      She was babbling more than usual. “Are you getting delirious on me?”

      “Delirious,” she repeated as if trying to remember. “First handmaiden to Queen Guinevere, right?”

      Either she really was delirious, or she was taking this opportunity to yank his chain. Either way, it didn’t improve his mood. “Shut up before I think better of this and throw you off the roof.”

      “I’m shutting.”

      Trying very hard to ignore the fire that was eating up her side, Teri threaded her arms around his neck. She was fairly certain that the bullet had only grazed her, but that didn’t change the fact that everything was spinning around her. Even though she would have hated to admit it, she wasn’t that much of a trouper when it came to looking at her own spilled blood. She liked keeping it just where it belonged. In her veins.

      She forced a smile to her lips as she looked at him. “Am I supposed to be out of my head right now so I can’t remind you of this gallantry later on?”

      Coming to the door, he let one of the remaining policemen open it for him. He ignored the look the man gave him. Ignored, too, the strange feeling he felt in response to holding her against him like this. “Far as I’m concerned, you’re always out of your head, Cavanaugh.”

      Maybe if she talked, she could keep her head from spinning off. “Spoken like a true gentleman. At least you’re making progress.” He was taking the stairs down and each step vibrated along her side. “That was almost a complete sentence. There’s hope for you yet, Hawk.” She sucked in her breath as he jostled her.

      She was hurting, he thought, frustrated because he was powerless to help her. He didn’t like seeing her in pain like this. “Hang in there,” he muttered.

      “Don’t have much choice, do I?” Her mind jumped from topic to topic like a frog going from one lily pad to another in a pond. She thought of word leaking back about her wound. It would spread in no time like a prairie fire across dry grass. “Oh, God, Dad’s going to freak.”

      The moment she said it, a protectiveness gripped her heart. Andrew Cavanaugh had had enough to contend with in his lifetime. She didn’t want this added to the pile, at least not until he could see for himself that she was all right. Since she lived at home, there was no way she could hide this indefinitely, but she wanted to spare him as much as possible for as long as possible.

      She looked at Hawk, her eyes imploring him. “Don’t call my father and tell