Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Thirty-Three

O oomph! “Miss Tuesday!” Tanner cried as a big, warm hand that couldn’t possibly belong to a child his size cupped her cheek. “I found her! Dad, I found her!”

Am I dreaming?

“Tanner? No,” she murmured, not believing what she was seeing. Tanner and his dad, leaning over her? Kneeling beside her? Where’d they come from? This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They shouldn’t have left Luke, not just to find her. He might be dying. “No, no, no. You guys should be with Luke,” she wheezed, her heart beating unreasonably hard in her ribcage. “Go. Please. He’s important, not me. Go. Leave me. Just—”

“Shut up and breathe! I’m not leaving you!”

Wow. That’s harsh. Doesn’t sound like Tanner, either.

Tuesday didn’t get to finish what most needed to be said, when Grissom’s warm, wet mouth clamped over hers and he started breathing for her. Breathing life and warmth into her. Hot tears rained over her cheeks with each forced inhale. But they weren’t her tears. They were Grissom’s. Maybe Tanner’s too. It was hard to know for sure…

Someone else had her arm tucked under his. Easing back from Grissom, she turned to the earnest, dark-haired man on his knees beside her. Whoever he was, he had a bag of fluid tucked up high under his other arm, and he’d just inserted a needle into the underside of her wrist.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, me, Grissom, and Maverick gotcha. Everything’s gonna be okay.” But then he turned and yelled, “Medic! Over here, please hurry!”

Sure didn’t sound like everything was going to be okay…

“You’re hurting her, Eric. Take it easy,” Grissom snapped.

Oh, Eric. That’s who he is.

“All I’ve got’s saline, brother, but it’s not enough. She’s lost too much blood, and EMTs don’t carry it. We’ve got to move fast or we’re going to lose her.”

You’re going to lose me? I’m dying? Oh, yeah. The people she loved most needed to live in peace. So I ran off and—

A bluster of gruff, hurried orders and quicker reactions overrode her best-laid plans that now felt like mistakes.

With one manly swoop, Grissom lifted her up, while other hands—so many other hands—helped him hoist her away from the cold embrace of this concrete tomb. Then she was floating on air. Grissom was there and, as much as she wished he hadn’t found her, Tuesday was relieved he had.

Every other man in her life had left her behind, in one way or the other. Unwillingly, maybe, but gone was still gone, and she’d been so darned lonely most of her adult life. But this—THIS—was love. In action. Jolting action, maybe. Harshly spoken, yes. But so welcome. Tears flowed like rain at the tender way these warriors handled her. At the deadly urgency in Grissom’s voice when he ordered, “Don’t hurt her!”

A tiny hand crept into her limp, cold fingers. “I gotcha, Miss Tuesday,” Tanner whispered, like the tiny angel he was, his voice full of worry and panting as if he were running to keep up with his dad. Or maybe he was flying? That didn’t make sense. Little boys couldn’t fly. “And we’re gonna take you to the hospital, and you’re gonna be okay, and so’s Luke and me, and we’re all gonna be okay and… and…”

She lost track of his dear sweet huffing and puffing over the hubbub of Grissom’s rowdy F-bombs. Oh, how she loved that man. He was fierce and so, so angry. Maybe angry with her. But his temper was born of worry and fear now, and every one of those F-bombs was precious music to her heart.

At last, the gurney slid inside the wide rear gate of an ambulance. Blue lights flashed overhead. An army of extra-large men surrounded her, bent over her, and packed her body with long bags of delicious warmth. Eric, that was his name, pulled a warm blanket out of nowhere and covered her from her neck to her bloody toes.

Tuesday lay there, breathing and listening.

“Be careful, damn it!” Grissom barked.

“Then get out of the way!” That order came from Alex.

Men. Always arguing. Grissom mostly, exerting himself, defending her at what might be the end of her life. But what a way to go, surrounded by men who’d fought for their country, and in some infinitesimally small way, for her.

A hand landed softly on her forehead. That guy with dark, curly hair looked worriedly down at her. “Ma’am, I’m Eric Reynolds. I work with Grissom. You’re in shock, and you’ve lost quite a bit of blood. But you’re not dying, you hear me?”

Tuesday wanted to tell him, yes, she could hear him. She wasn’t deaf. She understood. But Eric’s face kept going in and out of focus, like a loose camera lens. She closed her eyes before it made her sick and breathed, “Grissom.”

Eric pressed that big warm hand to the side of her face and gently forced her head to the left. To the man she adored. “You’re not dying,” he told her gruffly, his eyes glistening. “I won’t fucking let you. Keep breathing!”

Sweetest F-bomb ever.

“Me neither,” sweet Tanner piped up from somewhere… else. Tuesday thought for sure he was there, but it didn’t make sense that a little boy would be crammed into an ambulance with these big, angry guys. Most of them didn’t know her, well, except through the press, they all did. But most of what the press wrote and said wasn’t kind or true or…

Where was I going with this? Tuesday closed her eyes, too weak and too discombobulated to concentrate. Her life had been one long lonely road after another. It’d be nice to stop breathing and let go. Grissom deserved to keep living. So did his boys. The only way that could happen was without her. She was the jinx. The unintentional killer.

Just when despair nestled into her soul, like an unwelcome bedmate, that tiny little boy-hand slipped beneath the warming blanket and grabbed hold of her index finger. “I gotcha, Miss Tuesday,” Tanner whispered, “an’ I’m not never letting you go. Not no more. You’re mine and Luke’s, and we’re gonna take especially good care of you from now on. Forever!”

That sweet, enthusiastic little boy had to be a hallucination. Or an angel. No way could Tanner be there. But just in case, Tuesday whispered, “I love you, Tanner. Take care of your dad and your brother. I’ll miss you guys, but I can’t stay. You have to live. Not me. Not any—”

An alarm shrilled in the suffocating back of that ambulance.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Tuesday!” Grissom roared overhead. “I mean, us! Me and my boys. You’re all we’ve got!” He was suddenly so much farther away. Fading, at the end of a long dark tunnel that kept getting narrower and darker. “Save her, Eric. Save my woman!”

Tuesday wanted to tell Grissom everything was going to be okay. But the light was gone.

And so was she…