Read Online Reaching Hearts (Hearts Series) by Sabrina Lacey - Free Book Online Page B

again.
“Annie,” he moans. “It hurts. What are you doing?” He tries to look at the
wound, but his head falls back and his eyes close, weak from blood loss.
    “I’m
saving yours.” I kiss him. “Can you hear the sirens? Help is coming. Stay with
me. Please stay with me!”
    Banging
on the door pulls my head to that direction. The door is locked. They’re
banging on it, but I don’t want to leave him. What if my hand pressed here is
what’s keeping him alive?
    A
police officer appears in the window and yells through it, “Ma’am! Unlock the
door!” I shake my head at him, eyes blurred by tears. He slams his baton into
the glass while someone else, maybe two people, throw their bodies against the
weight of the door trying to break it down. The window caves first. He used his
gun to break it, aiming toward the bar. I squeeze my eyes shut at the explosion
of bullet and glass, lunging my torso to cover Brendan and ducking my own head.
    Firemen,
Police and E.M.T.s pour in through what used to be my window, stepping over
shards that reach up dangerously from the frame. Their feet crunch through the
glass on the floor as they race to us. I’m lifted up, my arms reaching toward
Brendan as I cry out, “No!!”
    “We’ve
got him.”
    I
weep, restrained by stronger arms than mine, as I watch the E.M.T.s check the
wound, press on it. Another runs in with a stretcher and they raise him on it,
rushing to the door. It’s still locked.
    Through
my dazed mind, I see what they need and reach for the key attached to my
belt. “Here!” This is the last time
I’ll ever wear it like this. They struggle to detach it from me, but the blood
has made it too slippery. The E.M.T.s are already speeding to the window
instead. “Go through the window!” the police yells to them as if they don’t
already know. But everyone’s in crisis mode and trying to help save Brendan’s
life.
    I’m
staring after him as the policeman lets go of me and speaks, but I can only see
his mouth moving, can’t hear what he’s saying. I want to be with Brendan. I
break into a run for the window. They can’t leave without me! “Wait! Wait,
please! Wait!!”
    The
ambulance doors are just about to shut me out. Brendan’s
inside with oxygen being pumped into him through a mask.
    “Please!”
I grab the door and fight her for it.
    “You
can’t ride with us. I’m sorry,” the female E.M.T. says, struggling with me.
    Thinking
quick, I blurt out, “I’m hurt, too!” She’s taken aback. Regret flashes across
her face at her mistake. She holds the door open and I climb in. “Thank you!”
    “We’re
taking her to the hospital. She’s hurt.” She hurriedly tells the chasing
policeman who nods as she closes the door. Sitting down next to her, I take
Brendan’s hand and watch his unconscious face. The siren switches on. Our
bodies sway with speeding twists and turns through traffic, like a jerking,
grotesque dance to music no one wants to listen to.
    The
E.M.T.s - one male, one female,
plus a male driver – are all in their early thirties with arms that belie
the strength it takes to do a job like this every day. The female pokes and
prods me while I stare at Brendan. All of them remain faceless. It feels like
I’m not really here.
    “Where
are you hurt?”
    With
my eyes fixed on him, I mumble. “I’m not.” She frowns and shares a look with
her partner. “You’d do the same thing.”
    She
places her thumb and forefinger on his wrist to monitor his pulse, muttering,
“I don’t think I would have been so quick-thinking.”
    “Is
he going to be okay?” Even as I hear the question, I know they don’t know. They
can’t possibly. But I want hope. I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door. I
can’t believe the gunman pulled the trigger. I can’t believe Brendan saved my
life. I can’t believe he’s dying. None of this seems real. It can’t be. The
night turned from a dream to a nightmare.
    “We’re
doing everything we can,” the