Chapter 134

134

Powell leaned over him. Terror almost robbed her of words. Almost. "I, oh, you…you are such a barbarian, Gunnar Nils Erickson. Always have to be the hero. I was getting myself out of the way. I was getting myself out of the way, you know."

"Always…protect…you." Beautiful blue eyes just stared at her. "Always. You okay? Baby?"

"We're just fine. And we're going to kick your butt, as soon as I can. When it's more of a fair fight." She wrapped her hand around his. "I love you, you know. I think, maybe, you need a keeper, or something. And no one else is quite up to the job. After this…after this, you are moving into my house. We are going to nest together. Make it a home for our baby. And then the next one—or possibly two—who comes along. We'll be a family, Gunnar. You, me, the babies. All of us. Together. Don't you dare leave me. It's just not allowed."

Tears fell from her eyes. To land on his chest. To mingle with the blood.

Then someone was there.

Pushing past her.

Powell looked up. Into dark eyes in a feminine face.

"I need you to move back, Powell. We're going to check out our Mr. Hero here. See what kind of damage we have going on," the woman said, kneeling next to them. She had a backpack in her hands.

There were people everywhere now.

Strong arms lifted her from the floor. She looked up—into another blond Viking face. Murdoch. Zoey's husband. There were people coming. Helping. "Hey, kid. I think you attract trouble. Something you have in common with my wifey. And apparently, her clone-auntie."

Auntie. That bastard had called Heather auntie when he'd been taunting her. Heather's nieces Cashlyn and Samia were leaning over Gunnar. Doing what they could. Samia was a trauma doctor, Cashlyn a trauma nurse. They were there now. To help.

They were there. They knew what they were doing. They even had first aid supplies. That mattered, right? Made a difference? "I need to see him. I need to be with him."

"First, we're going to get that arm taken care of," another voice said. Behind him. Firmly. "Murdoch, bring her to the couch. I'll take a look. Do what I can until the paramedics get here."

Powell looked down. She was bleeding. Her arm. But what did her arm matter when Gunnar—she looked at him again. He was awake. Looking at her.

"You okay, Powell…Melissa?"

"This is just a little scratch," Powell told him, forcing the words to come out firmly. "You just worry about yourself for once. I'll handle everything else. We're equal partners in this life together thing, understand?"

"Heath—okay? Your dad?" He tried to turn and look.

Powell looked instead. "Dad?"

Her father was sitting up, leaning against the couch with ice against his head. Powell had never seen him look as weak as he did in that instant, but he was alive. She couldn't really see Heather, but the other woman was in the floor almost behind the couch. Her legs were outstretched. Her twin leaned over her, doing something Powell couldn't see. "Is Heather okay?"

"She will be. She's just a magnet for trouble, lately, apparently," Bonnie said, but she hesitated. There was fear in her words. "I think I'm going to ground her, lock her in her room for a few years—first thing in the morning. For tonight…Murdoch, let's get Powell outside. The less people in here when the paramedics arrive, the faster this will go."

Samia heard Bonnie's words. She stepped to the middle of the room. And just took charge. "Everybody listen up, we have a triage situation here. Order of severity. Horrible Heather is getting out of here first, fast. Our hot blond hero Gunnar's out of here next. Summer is outside with Commander Butthead McKellen. He's next. Then, whether we like it or not, the asshole right there—though I personally think big brother should go last. And finally, Powell and Mr. Barratt. If you are not working on one of those people—get the hell out of here. Now. Make room for the ones who can help. Lake, I suggest someone in your little party get out there and start directing traffic. Make sure those ambulances I can hear have an unobstructed path out of this hellhole called Hughes Heights. Hope has called in as many responders as she can get here, as fast as she can get them. Second set of paramedics are less than two minutes out. First set already quietly took that poor guard out of here. More responders are inside the gates, and Hope snagged a chopper as well. No clue how she did it, but Heather and Gunnar are going to be on it, as soon as we can get them to it. Help is on the way. And thank God the Barratts live next to the park where that chopper can land. Let's do this."

After she spoke, the sound of a helicopter came. Like she'd summoned it from the darkness.

"Yes, ma'am. I can so see why my brother has a thing for you, Doctor Sam. But you are kind of scary. Cute as a button—but kind of scary. I think it's a Coleson thing." Murdoch turned back to Powell. "Let's get you outside, so they can load your man up and get him to my bro-in-law at FCGH. Rafe's getting a little crusty in his old age. Time to shake him up. Can't let Nikkie Jean have all the fun."

Powell let Murdoch lift her. There were people rushing in everywhere. Some were paramedics. Some were cops. She just kept watch—over Gunnar.

She wasn't going to let that man out of her sight again. He just kept getting into trouble that way.