The Santas Who Stole Me (Stolen #1)

Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

GEORGIE

“Zee!” The panic in Calum’s voice is something I’ve never heard, and my head snaps up.

No, no.

Zeke is laid out on the ground, the blood pooling around him darkens as it pours from his body. I push off Keeper’s chest, and he sets me down on my feet before I kneel next to Zeke. Keeper turns him over, and I see the hole in his shirt and shoulder and another through his dark jeans. My core twists. This can’t happen.

“Hold his head, cookie, this is going to hurt, so don’t let him crack his skull back against the floor.”

Cradling my hands under his head I focus on his face. He is beautiful even sweaty and pale.

Calum tightens something around Zeke’s leg. His eyes pop open, and he lifts his head in a grunt. He gives me a grin before passing out again. My tears drip onto Zeke’s face and mix with the dirt and blood on his skin. I should wipe them off, but instead, I hold his head like Calum asked.

Calum rises to his feet and pulls a phone from his pocket. “Lee, push those death certificates through to the feds, time of death last ten minutes.” He listens for a few more seconds then jams his finger on the red button and nods to Keeper.

“Death certificates, no. He’s not …” I can’t speak. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Keeper checks his phone, then hauls Zeke off the floor in one smooth motion and throws him over his shoulder. “Georgia, move now. I can’t carry you both.”

He has never had that tone with me, not since the rooftop where this started. Somehow, I make my feet follow him, and as I look back at Calum, he juts his chin to the door, instructing me to go, dismissing me. I guess I deserve that. I have no clue why he’s staying behind, but after the mess I’ve caused, I don’t feel like I deserve to ask. I have to go with Zeke, so I run after Keeper.

He opens the back door of his truck and looks at me. “Help me get him in.”

I do as Keeper says, scooting against the leather and leaning over to pull Zee the best I can by the shoulders. Keeper gives him a shove and slams the door. I hold his head up as we barrel down the street. Keeper doesn’t speak, and I keep my fingers on Zee’s neck. His pulse is faint, but it’s there. I count the slow pulses until we stop moving and B yanks the truck door open.

“What about the raid?” I ask.

“Marge handled it. Lee said the doc will be here in five, the table is cleared,” B says in a grim tone. He grabs Zeke, and they disappear through the backdoor.

I claw at my chest, willing my heart not to break. Why did Calum say death certificates? I look at Keeper with shame, too scared to follow Zeke.

“This is all my fault. Please, help him.” A sob gets stuck in my throat and I rest my head in my hands, ignoring the rust color that’s dried on my fingers.

Keeper doesn’t say anything when he pushes my hair back and examines my face.

I haven’t thought about the pain from where Chad hit me. I won’t now, considering it’s so minor compared to what Zeke is going through.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shake my head, not wanting to think about anything that happened in that basement.

Keeper’s hands roughly run over me.

My heart is shattered. I don’t deserve him or any of them. “I’m fine, we need to check on Zeke.” My feet are heavy, and I ignore the cold ground beneath my bare feet.

Keeper frowns when I jump at the squeak of the service door to the diner, and he holds it open for me. Inside, Zeke is placed on the large counter, and B is leaning over him, his tattooed hands already the deep-red color that covers Zeke.

I rub at my chest again, taking a slow labored breath.

The front kitchen door bangs and in walks a woman with a sharp, ash-blonde bob and a black suit, and an older man hurries after her with a bag he sets down, then he pulls on latex gloves.

“Doc,” Keeper says with a head nod.

“I had hoped I wouldn’t see you all so soon. I see three, is that correct? How long ago?” The man focuses on Zeke, examining his body.

“Less than twenty, we were close when it happened, close range Glock, looks like this one went straight through.” Keeper points to the wound on Zeke’s shoulder, and I shudder at how painful that must feel, having a hole ripped through your body.

The doctor rushes to the other side of the counter and inserts an IV bag and another with blood. “Sebastian, you’re here as well, it’s a regular crime party,” the doctor adds dryly, handing the bags to B.

B doesn’t have his usual grin when looking down at the bullet wound. In fact, I’ve never seen him this serious or focused. “Never good when we see your pretty face, doc. How’s he look?” B asks while moving around the table, lining things up for the doctor. He seems to know his way around trauma wounds.

“The leg is the worst of them. He won’t be walking for a while, but nothing vital was hit, which is surprising but perhaps not entirely. Ezekiel is very smart, so I’m sure he moved in a way to avoid death as much as possible,” the doctor adds under his breath. His movements are quick but steady, and I can hardly blink staring at Zeke’s chest, checking that it is still rising and falling. Blood drips off the counter and trickles to the kitchen floor. The thin maroon line inches toward the drain, and I can’t take it. I make my way to the bathroom.

I feel Keeper’s eyes track me, and I know he starts to come after me.

“Stay. We need to patch him, get more blood. The usual.” The doctor’s tone is without concern, but he needs help, so Keeper goes back to Zee.

“I’ll go check on her,” I hear a feminine voice say. The woman with the bob.

I can’t think about her as I run to heave over the first toilet I get to. The door opens behind me, and the woman walks in. I hear the water run and squeeze my eyes, but behind my eyelids plays a nightmarish loop of visions: Chad, that woman being shot, Zeke with a hole in his chest. Movement pulls me out of my panic. I turn to see her gray eyes and lips in a line.

She hands me a wet towel, and I swipe it across my face, then she stands, looking so together, not a hair out of place surrounding a heart-shaped face.

“Hey Georgie, I’m Lee. Cal has told me about you. Tell me how I can help you. Do you need me to get you a doctor? Were you assaulted?” she says the last word softly.

I lean back against the stall doors and pull my legs up to my chest. I wrap shaky hands around my knees. How can I describe what happened to me back there? Sexually assaulted? No, that wasn’t what Chad was about. I was violated in every other way. I can’t say any of those things, though, so I shake my head, and she blows out a breath, squeezes into the stall, and crouches down next to me.

“He’s gone now.” Her grim words fill the stall. I don’t think she quite accepts my answer about the assault.

“Yea, but at what cost? My freedom wasn’t worth Zeke’s life.” Warm tears continue to fall down my dirty face, and I don’t try to wipe them.

“I don’t think the guys would agree. Cal is obsessed with you. I’ve known him for a long time. He loves very few people, and you’re lucky to be one of them.”

“I fucked this all up. Typical Georgie.”

“Eh. I’m sure your heart was in the right place. I’ll cover up everything else.”

My eyes widen in shock. “Why would you do that? How?”

“With my FBI clearance. I didn’t know Chad until he was on my radar, thanks to you. He can’t hurt anyone anymore. And that file you had connected Chad to quite a few terrorist groups. The CIA owes me now for that information. I love it when they owe me a favor.” Lee has a satisfied grin and a knowing look I don’t want to attempt to decipher right now.

“How did you get the file?”

“Oh, Zeke sent it to me a while ago. We had a strategy to release it after we staged Chad’s death. The raid ruined the plan, but looks like your way worked too. Honestly, you are smart to have kept it from them. Don’t underestimate yourself, Georgie. They know your worth, and you should too.”

I drag my hand across my face. My worth. Keeper’s words run through my mind.

Beautiful.

Strong.

Mine.

I lean my head back against the stall door. “I think it might be best if I leave. They can help Zeke get better and go back to how things were before I stormed into their lives. Keeper probably wishes he threw me over the building like he wanted to.” I grind my teeth down at that thought, and the sound of blood rushing to my head whooshes through my ears. My dizziness increases when I think about the way he looked right through me in the car, like he couldn’t quite shake how I could help Chad. As if I would have done any such thing.

The stall opens, and I jump back at Keeper’s sudden appearance. He’s so dang quiet he could have given me a heart attack if my heart were in one piece. “Georgie, you promised.” His whispered tone doesn’t hide his hurt.

Lee stands in front of me and pats Keeper’s shoulder as she leaves. I like her.

His lips tighten in a line, and those eyes I love so much are filled with disappointment.

“Keeper, I wasn’t in contact with—” He stops me mid-sentence.

“Kitten, I never thought that. Even if you were, I didn’t care. He took you from us and he wasn’t walking out of that room. I hate that he got close to you.”

“But you could hardly look at me and I know I’ve ruined it all.”

“I was terrified that I lost you, or that you were hurt worse than anything I could help you recover from. How badly are you hurt? Doc’s partner is coming to check on you. I wasn’t sure if you would prefer to talk with a woman.” His rough thumb rubs across my cheek. His touch gives me relief and his palm warms my face.

God, I love him. “I’ll be fine, he didn’t have enough time to do much damage, and it’s not the first bruise I’ve had.”

“It will be your last.” There he is, my favorite protector.

“I wanted to keep you safe. I wasn’t running or hiding from you.”

“I know that. We are alike in some ways. Your love is fierce. I know you want to take care of us and protect us. It’s going to make you be the best mama.”

My stomach flutters at the way he says mama. He still wants that with me and damn I do too. I won’t give it up either. I put my hand on his.

He leans in and gives me the softest brush of a kiss. It takes my breath away to see Keeper be so sweet. We kiss a few more times and he rests his forehead on mine.

“How did you find me?” I whisper, not wanting to ruin the moment but trying to process it all.

“Zee is a psychopath who loves you. He can tell you when he wakes up.”

My head bobs up and down as if that makes any sense. My head is pounding and nodding does nothing to soothe the ache.

“Do you think he will be okay?” My voice cracks, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

“He will, he won’t leave you like this.”

My lower lip wobbles and I sniff. A knock at the door has me raising my head, and a small, older woman in scrubs stands with her head tilted. “I can give you a moment if you need. I wanted to let you know I’m here because the doctor wasn’t sure of the extent of your wounds and was worried about the prolapse in time.”

“Do you want to wait for Marge to come back?” Keeper asks as his arms unwrap from me.

“I can go alone for the exam. Where is she?”

“She wants to tell you in person. She’s safe, though.”

The drumming in my ears is louder now, so I focus on his words. If Keeper says she is safe, I can save my questions for later. She leads me to the break room, which I guess is where she’s going to examine me. I inhale, then I breathe out slowly, thinking of my men. I might not deserve them, but I’m sure as hell going to try. On trembling legs I keep going.

This won’t be how my story ends.