by Lisa Harris
“No, you’re not, which is why right now all you need to think about is going to the hospital.”
Maybe she was right after all. He couldn’t stop the dizziness. There were two of her. Two heads, four eyes… The room was spinning. He tried to shake it off. He needed to protect her. That was why he was here. To protect her from whoever was trying to kill them.
*
Talia refused to give in to panic. She took a deep breath and guided Joe to the back of the room.
“Joe,” she said. “I’m calling for an ambulance. You’re going to be fine, but I need you to take deep slow deep breaths and relax. We need to elevate your arm above your heart.”
She turned back to the woman, who was still standing in the middle of the store, unsure of how to react to two people barging into her store, one who was bleeding on her floor. “I need you to lock the front door and put up the Closed sign in case we were followed,” she said to her in Italian.
The woman hesitated. “You think the shooter might follow you here?”
“I don’t know, but please. I’m not trying to put you in danger, and I can’t be certain, but we do need your help. Please.”
She tapped her heel, then glanced at the door. “Okay. I will help you.”
“He needs to lie down,” Talia said.
“There’s a place in the back of the room,” she said, leading them behind the counter.
Joe didn’t move. “I really don’t need to lie down.”
He was fighting with her again. Acting agitated and anxious. All signs of shock.
“Joe, you kept me safe out there. Now it’s my turn to ensure your safety. Trust me. You’re not fine. You need to lie down.”
He shook his head. “Burns like fire, but I don’t think it’s serious.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She turned to the woman. “Can you get me something to help stop the bleeding? A towel…anything you might have.”
“I think I can come up with some hand towels.”
She turned back to Joe while the woman searched for the towels. “You can lie here behind the counter until the ambulance gets here.”
“Talia—”
“I tell you, I’ve never met such a stubborn man,” she said. “Lie down and be still.”
“I just don’t want someone else getting shot.”
“It’s a bit late for that, and you’ve played enough superhero for today. So before you pass out on me, lie down.”
Seconds later she had Joe on the floor and his arm elevated. The clerk handed her two small white towels. She immediately pressed them both against the wound.
Sirens blared in the distance. At least she hadn’t heard any more shots. But that didn’t mean they were out of the woods yet. She brushed her free hand across Joe’s forehead. His skin was clammy, his face had paled, and his pulse was rapid. She glanced down at the towel. Blood had already turned it red.
She pressed harder against the wound. Her medical expertise ended with Band-Aids and ankle braces. She knew more facts about Florence than how to treat a gunshot wound. How the city had become the first in all of Europe to have paved streets. How Leonardo Da Vinci had been born here in 1452. Or how the Duoma—a domed cathedral—had 463 stone steps that led to a stunning view of the city.
Dealing with this type of wound hadn’t exactly been a part of her education. Or how to deal with an active shooter. And the only way she knew to keep herself from panicking was to hold on to facts and the small sliver of reality that was left.
“Did you know that this bridge was the only bridge along the Arno River that wasn’t blown up by the Germans? Charles Steinhauslin convinced one of the German generals not to blow it up because of its historical value and it worked.”
Joe just stared up at her. “What?”
“The bridge we’re on. The Ponte Vecchio. It’s…never mind. I ramble when I’m stressed. I start spewing out facts and other nonsense. It’s an annoying habit, or so I’ve been told.”
But that wasn’t what had her worried.
“Joe, there’s something else. The bleeding isn’t stopping, and I don’t know what else to do other than elevate your arm and keep pressure on it.”
“Then we have a problem. It should have slowed down by now.” Joe switched his gaze to his arm. “In order to stop the bleeding, I think you’re going to have to press on the brachial artery.”
“Okay. Where is that?”
“Right below my armpit. Grab underneath my arm, wrap your fingers along the inner part and then press firmly. When you’ve got the right place, the bleeding should slow down.”
“How do you know that?” she said, working quickly to follow his instructions.”
“Training. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“Like?”
“After spending half a dozen summers as a lifeguard throughout high school and college, one of the things I wanted to be growing up was a doctor. I ended up taking a bunch of first aid on the side.”
“Anything else I should be doing then?” she asked.
“Do you notice any rapid swelling around the wound?”
“No…what would that mean?”
“Internal bleeding.” Her stomach clenched at the reality of the situation started to hit her. She wasn’t sure about internal bleeding, but she did know that no matter where the bullet had hit, it was going to cause damage.
She’d do anything to be back in Rome talking to a bunch of rowdy tourists instead of on the run from a crazed sniper with connections to her husband’s death. Her life had truly been turned upside down.
She glanced again at the door, wishing she knew what was going on outside. “Tell me this was just a random shooting, and we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He shook his head, wincing as she pressed against his arm, but at least he seemed calmer. “I wish, but that would be way too much of a coincidence with all that’s happened the past few days.”
“So you think they were trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure whoever is behind this wants me out of the picture. This was just supposed to be you searching for the paintings, remember. No authorities in the picture. And now they know I’m with you.”
“How do they know you’re part of law enforcement?”
“On the train, I told the woman I was FBI. She—or whoever’s behind this—wants you to have to deal with this on your own. And so there’s no chance of me confiscating the paintings once—if—we find them.”
“Maybe you’re right, but that’s pretty risky, shooting at a government agent. Especially since whoever is behind this probably isn’t even from here.”
“I agree, but I think they panicked. And when you’re that scared you make foolish choices. Like going after your target in broad daylight.”
“How’s the bleeding?” he asked, looking down at his arm.
“I think it’s finally slowing.”
Her pulse was racing. Her own breathing labored. If anything happened to him… She tried to ignore the feelings brought on by that thought. But she’d seen how he’d looked at her when they were standing together next to the river. And she’d felt her own reaction to his nearness. And how for a moment she’d actually wished that he would have kissed her.
But this wasn’t about him being her hero and coming to her rescue. She already decided that she was never going to date a lawman again. Thomas had betrayed her, but his death had really driven home that his job had been dangerous. And so was Joe’s. And that wasn’t something she was going to deal with again.
The store clerk was back again, hovering beside Talia. “Can I get you anything else?”
“What about the ambulance?” she answered back in Italian.
“It should be here in less than five minutes.” The store clerk glanced at the window. “I just called my brother, who has a shop down the road. He said he saw the shooter.”
“What’s happening?” Joe asked Talia.
&
nbsp; “There’s an ambulance on its way right now.”
“Someone had to have gotten a good look at him,” Joe said. “Though from what I saw it could have been a man or a woman from the way they were dressed.”
“The police are here,” the woman said, running toward the door and unlocking it.
Three police officers marched through the door, followed by two paramedics and a gurney.
Talia stood up and moved back, giving them room behind the counter to get to where Joe lay. “Please tell me he’s going to be all right.”
“Looks like he’s lost a lot of blood, but we’ll take care of him.”
She turned to one of the officers while Joe was settled onto the gurney. “Have you found the shooter?”
“We’ve secured the bridge and surrounding areas and have a description, but we’re going to need your statement.”
“I need to go with him to the hospital first…please.”
“Tell them I’m with the FBI,” Joe said to Talia. “Give them Esposito’s number so he can update them on what’s going on.”
Talia gave the officers the number off Joe’s phone, thanked the store clerk, then followed the paramedics outside the shop and toward the other side of the bridge, where the ambulance was waiting. A crowd had gathered, watching as she hurried to keep up.
Her phone went off as soon as she sat down in the back of the ambulance. She hesitated, then pulled it out of her back pocket to read the message.
Do you know why this happened? It’s your fault. I told you not to involve the authorities and now your friend will die. All because you didn’t listen.
Talia stared at the text. Joe had been right. This was all because of her. And if he died, she would be the reason for his death.
TEN
Talia paced the freshly waxed floor of the emergency room. As soon as they’d arrived by ambulance, news of a gunshot victim had sent the staff running. Joe had been given a priority code number that had put him in the front of the line and immediately in to see a surgeon. She glanced at her phone for the hundredth time. It was already after noon. Well over three hours since they’d arrived. And over an hour since anyone had given her an update, which had her stress level soaring.
But Joe’s situation wasn’t the only reason she was so upset.
As far as she knew, whoever had shot Joe was still out there.
A roomful of people sat on hard, plastic chairs. A television played the news. A baby cried in the background. She glanced at the doors leading outside. She’d given her statement to the police shortly after their arrival, which had let to more questions, most of them still unanswered as far as she was concerned. But she had no idea if they’d found the gunman. Or the woman on the train. Which had her jumping every time the doors opened.
Because how hard would it be to track them down to this hospital? Whoever had shot Joe would try again. But surely not here, right? It was a possibility, though. The person behind this was making some twisted decisions, so Talia wasn’t sure what might happen next.
She looked down at her hands and rubbed her fingers together. She’d scrubbed them in the restroom, trying to wash away Joe’s blood. Wishing she could as easily wash away the memories of the past few days. Asking herself how her life had managed to spiral out of control so quickly. And now if something happened to Joe, if he didn’t make it… She gulped in a lungful of air. She’d known that getting the bleeding to stop—along with getting him to the hospital—increased his chances of survival, but while he’d been lucid when they’d taken him away, she knew there could be no guarantees at this point.
She took a sip of the bottled water she’d bought a few minutes earlier, then thought back once again to that moment on the bridge when she’d been convinced he was going to kiss her. And despite all her hard work to guard her heart she felt that same undeniable attraction. But she couldn’t let that guard down now. Not when she was only caught up in a wave of emotions. That’s all this draw toward him was. She was vulnerable, scared, and he’d been the one who’d come to her rescue.
Like Thomas had always done until he’d decided to risk everything they had together and lost.
No. She wasn’t ever going through that again.
I know there’s nothing I can do, God, beyond leaving this situation to You, but this is all still so hard.
Even finding the strength to trust wasn’t easy. Not God. Not Joe…and certainly not her heart.
She started pacing again, hating the feeling of being out of control. She knew the risks someone like Joe faced. He might be after white-collar criminals and art thieves, but that didn’t make him immune to danger. Today had made that clear. And the thought of giving her heart away to someone like that… Well, that wasn’t happening.
She stared at the double doors where they’d taken him and wondered how long it was going to be until they gave her an update. She glanced at her phone She needed to let her brother-in-law know what was going on. If they did get to Venice today, which was becoming less likely, it was going to be late. Which meant the easiest thing to do was get a couple of hotel rooms and meet up with Marco in the morning. She punched in his number, waited for him to answer, then ended up leaving him a message.
She disconnected the call as a text came in from her sister.
Are you okay? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until this is over.
It was around six in the morning in Dallas.
She started to call her sister, then stopped when one of the nurses approached her.
“You’re with Mr. Bryant, the gunshot victim, right?” she asked in Italian.
Talia’s heart raced as she dropped her phone into her pocket. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to get back to you. This place has been crazy today. We’re having trouble having enough beds for everyone.”
“How is he?”
“He’s going to need to stay a while longer, but he’s asking for you. You can come with me and see him if you’d like.”
Talia hesitated before following the woman. “Is he going to be okay?”
“As with any gunshot wound, he’s fortunate to be alive, but the bullet passed through and tissue damage is minimal. The doctor wants him to wait here a couple more hours so we can watch his vitals while waiting for the results of the CT scan. But as long as there is no further damage, it looks like after a few days of rest and a round of strong antibiotics, he’ll be okay.”
Talia blew out a sharp breath with the relief that came with the woman’s assurance, then followed her through the double doors,
Joe was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and his arm bandaged.
“Hey,” she said, slipping into the room. She set down a package she’d picked up while she’d been waiting, then pulled out the Firenze, Italia T-shirt she’d bought in the small hospital store. “I know it’s a bit touristy, but I thought you might need a new shirt.”
And at least he was alive. That was all that seemed to matter at the moment.
He smiled up at her and nodded at the gift. “Thanks.”
“How are you feeling?”
“The pain medicine finally kicked in, so I’m feeling a bit better.”
“The nurse told me it was a clean shot.”
“I’m going to be sore for a while, but it could have been a lot worse.”
She tightened her grip around the empty bag in an attempt to calm her jumpy nerves. There had been enough lives lost. It had to stop.
“Do you know how often a train leaves for Venice?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “Why? Because you’re not leaving Florence.”
“I’m not staying. We need to find those paintings—”
“I have a feeling the doctor isn’t going to agree.”
“The surgeon was able to stop the bleeding and repair most of the damage. As soon as they confirm the results of the CT scan, we can grab our stuff at the hotel and leave for Venice.”
Talia frowned at Joe’
s stubbornness. Did he seriously think he could keep going like nothing had happened? “I was told you needed a few more days of rest before you do anything. Because in case you missed it somehow, you were just wounded by a bullet.”
“Funny.” He shot her an annoyed look. “But I don’t exactly have an option. Last time I looked we were running out of time to get the paintings. Resting isn’t going to speed up that time line. I’m already frustrated I have to hang around here as long as I’ve had to.”
“There are other options. There’s still me.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll go on to Venice and find the paintings while you stay here and recover.”
“Not a chance,” he said. “That’s what whoever did this wants. And it’s not happening.”
“Joe—”
“I’m serious, Talia. There’s no way you’re going there by yourself.”
“What about your arm? You’re not going to do me any good if you’re not well.”
“My arm will be fine, and like I said, time isn’t exactly on our side. I’ve got antibiotics and pain medicine. I’ve had worse injuries.”
She wanted to argue with him. Ask him what injury he’d had that had been worse than this. But if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to get on that train by herself, and she had no illusions of trying to prove to him that she was some kind of superwoman. Because she wasn’t. And the thought of going to Venice, even with Joe, had her panic level soaring. He’d just been shot to apparently get him out of the way. What were they going to do to her if she didn’t get them what they wanted? As far as she was concerned this had turned into a lose-lose situation.
“So what are you proposing?”
“As soon as they let me out, we head back to the hotel, get something to eat and then catch the train to Venice.”
She mentally weighed their options. It would be late when they got there. She hadn’t been able to get a hold of her brother-in-law, but she knew that the neighbor had a key and they could always rent a couple rooms at a hotel. It was high season, but they should be able to find something.
“What about your contact with the Carabinieri? Esposito. What if he came with me?”