Nobody But You B&N (7 page)

"Emma."

She leaned back down. "We need to get you back to Emma, Max, but you have to stay still, so you don't start bleeding again."

His lips parted. "Emma," he breathed. "Love—love you."

Hallie's heart tore a little at his words. He thought she was Emma.

"Don't forget," he murmured.

"He thinks you're Emma," Spencer said.

"Then I'll be her." She squeezed Max's hand and said, "You have to fight, Max." She took a deep breath, not sure she could say the words she needed to say for Max, for Emma, because she hadn't said those words since her fiancé had died. In fact, her greatest regret was that she hadn't had a chance to say those words to Doug before he passed away. That night they'd been bickering a little, nothing serious, just the things couples do. What a waste of conversation and time that had been. How she wished she could have those moments back.

She couldn't change the past for herself or for Doug, but maybe the words could mean something now, to another man who really needed to hear them. She put her face right next to Max's. He was so weak, she could barely hear his breath. She needed to give him some strength.

"I love you," she whispered. "And I need you to come back to me. You have to stay still and rest, so the bleeding doesn't start again. You can do this, Max. Don't quit on me. We're not over yet. We're getting married, and we're having a future."

She sat back on her heels, hoping he'd heard her, hoping that he could hang on for the woman he loved. While she'd seen a lot of people die, she'd also seen a few miracles, and she wanted one for this man.

"Thanks," Spencer said.

"I hope it helped. I don't know what Emma would have said."

"Exactly what you did. He's calmer now."

"I hope he stays that way." She tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear as she looked out across the bank. "I wish these guys would calm down. The longer this goes on, the more nervous they get, and that makes them more dangerous. I thought this would be over by now." She could feel the tension rising in her own body. She needed to calm down, too.

"Tell me about the island you're going to," Spencer said.

"I don't know."

"You do know. Concentrate on that, Hallie."

She tried to focus on the dreamy image of paradise that had been getting her through the last few weeks.

"Are there palm trees?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Wide beaches?"

"With sand so hot it burns your toes," she said slowly.

"Good. What else?"

"The sea is blue-green, and the fish are so colorful, snorkeling is like looking through a kaleidoscope."

"Let's not forget about the rum," he said with a small smile.

"They put those little umbrellas in the drinks. And they have hammocks strung up between the trees where you can nap." She paused. "I think I might be able to sleep there. It will be quiet, no noises to wake me up and make me want to dive for cover. The only sound will be the waves crashing on the beach. But I've already missed my flight."

"You'll catch another one."

She nodded, realizing her pulse had slowed back down. "Thanks. I was getting wound up."

"You're doing great, Hallie. And when we get out of here, I'm going to buy you a rum drink with one of those umbrellas. I know a place right here in the city that makes them. It won't be your island bar, but it will tide you over until you can get there. What do you say?"

"That this is a first."

He sent her an enquiring look. "What do you mean?"

"It's the first time I've been asked out while I was trying to save someone's life and my own."

"I wasn't asking; I was telling," he said, a cocky note in his voice. "We're getting out of this, Hallie. And I'm going to buy you that drink. You can bet on that."

She liked his confidence. "You're on."

As she finished speaking, the phone rang again and the Yankee-capped man strode to the desk to answer it. He listened, then hung up and turned to his partner. "The car is here and the money. We're good to go."

"That's it? It seems too easy."

"I was just thinking that." Yankee set down his gun on the desk and walked to the window. "There are a million cops out there, probably snipers on the roof."

"I don't like it," the hooded man said. "They're setting us up."

"What do you want to do then? We can't stay in here all night."

Hallie sighed as their debate began again. At this point, any action was preferable to no action, especially where Max was concerned. His momentary calm had passed, and he was starting to move his legs now. He was also trying to pull his hand out of hers. She tightened her grip, then looked at Spencer.

"We have to do something," he said grimly.

She nodded. "The bleeding is starting up again, and he can't lose any more blood." She licked her lips, unable to believe what she was about to suggest. "I think we have to make a move."

He stared back at her. "I agree."

"You do?"

"Yes. We can wait it out, but Max can't. You're going to have to take over here, so I can try to get a jump on one of them."

"I can help. I'm a soldier. I know how to fight, Spencer."

"Not like this."

"Close enough," she said, remembering all the hand-to-hand combat training she'd undergone. It had been a long time, but she could do it. "You take one; I take the other. I think we can do it." She actually had no idea if they could do it or if they were about to commit suicide, but she didn't want to see Max die right in front of her without trying everything she could to save him.

His lips tightened. "We're only going to have one chance, one moment of surprise."

"The guy in the baseball cap put his gun on the desk," she said, meeting his gaze. "Now is the time."

"All right," he said decisively. "Start screaming. Pretend Max is dying, and you're terrified. Get hysterical on them. It will draw them over."

"Then what?"

"I'll jump the closest guy."

"Or I will."

"They could shoot you, Hallie."

She knew that was a real possibility but she was tired of being a victim. "I'll take the risk."

"All right. Ready?"

"More than ready." She drew in a breath and then started screaming. "Oh, my God, oh my God!" She put her hands on Max's chest as if she were searching for a heartbeat. "He's not breathing anymore. He's dying. Help! Help!" She jumped to her feet.

"What's going on?" the hooded gunman demanded, running over to them.

"We have to get him out of here," she yelled, waving her hand at Max. "Look, he's not breathing anymore. I have to get help. I can't let him die." She jerked to the right, and the gunman instinctively reached for her left arm. It was exactly what she wanted. She brought her other fist down hard on the back of his hand, the hand that was holding the gun.

He swore and dropped his weapon. It skidded across the floor. As he made a move to retrieve it, she kicked in the groin. He doubled over in pain.

Spencer leapt up and grabbed the gun off the floor. He was ready when the second man raced towards them, and he wasted no time pulling the trigger.

A split second later, a blast echoed through the bank.

Hallie saw the second gunman falter, but she didn't have time to see what happened next as the hooded man punched her in the nose. She fell backwards, clipping the side of a desk with her head as she fell toward the ground. She put up her hands to defend herself from the next attack, but it didn't come.

Spencer pulled the man off of her and hit him once, twice, a third time. The man retaliated, landing a blow on Spencer's jaw. They pummeled each other with desperate fury, a fight to the death.

Hallie tried to get up. She needed to help, but she was having trouble standing up. Stars were still exploding in front of her eyes. She forced herself to focus. She couldn't get to her feet, but she could crawl. She might not be able to help Spencer, but she could help Max. She got back to his side and put her hands on his bleeding wound.

And then the front door of the bank blasted open, the glass shattering into a million pieces, as the SWAT team rushed into the building. From there it was a flurry of action, the cops pulling Spencer and the gunman apart, the other hostages crying out with relief that it was finally over.

The paramedics rushed to her side, and she lifted her bloody hands off of Max as they went to work on him. Spencer came over as they hooked Max up to an IV and put him on a gurney.

"Where are you taking him?" Spencer asked.

"St. Mary's."

As the paramedics took Max out of the bank, Spencer turned to her. "We did it."

"Yeah," she said, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Your nose is bleeding, Hallie."

"Is it?" She had so much blood on her hands and clothes, she didn't know where it was coming from. Spencer grabbed some tissue off a nearby desk and handed it to her. She pressed a wad of Kleenex to her nose. It hurt. She had a feeling it might be broken. But if that were the worst of it, she'd be happy. "Is the other guy dead?" she asked, looking at a second set of paramedics, who were working on the gunman Spencer had shot.

"No. I hit him in the leg."

"Nice shooting."

"It was instinct. You did the hard part, Hallie. You were amazing. So fearless."

"I wasn't fearless; I was terrified. But I knew that it was going to be him or us, so I did what I had to do."

"Yes, you did. You're stronger than you think."

"Maybe I am," she murmured.

"You need to go to the hospital, Hallie. Your nose could be broken, and your forehead is swelling up. You must be in pain."

"I'm not feeling anything right now."

"You will." Spencer called one of the cops over and told him she needed transportation to the hospital. She would have argued, because an emergency room was the last place she wanted to go, but she was feeling a little dizzy, and it probably wouldn't hurt to get checked out.

Before she left, she gave Spencer one last look. "You told me earlier that your brother was the good one. You're not so bad yourself."

"Right back at you," he said with a smile.

"Goodbye, Spencer."

"Not goodbye. I'll see you later. I still owe you that drink."

* * *

"Max," Emma screamed, as the paramedics exited the bank with Max strapped on to a stretcher.

She'd been holding her breath since the shots had gone off and the police had swarmed the bank. Her father and Sean had had to hold her back from rushing the scene. Now she broke free of their grip and sprinted across the street. She met up with Max at the door to the ambulance. His shirt was soaked in blood, and his face was terribly white. She put her hand on his. His skin was ice cold. He was so still, she couldn't even tell if he was breathing, if his heart was beating.

"I want to go with him," she told the paramedic.

"No. Sorry. Meet us at St. Mary's."

"Wait." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Fight, Max," she said.

And then the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance and closed the doors. As the vehicle raced away, she wished she'd had another second to tell Max how much she loved him, because she was very afraid she was not going to get another chance.

A fear like no other ran through her. She couldn't lose him now, before they'd even really started. She wanted years with him, marriage, children, and grandchildren.

She started to sway, and her father's arm came around her shoulders. She turned into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest. He patted her on the back. "It's going to be all right, Emma. Have faith."

She lifted her head to face him, needing the Jack Callaway power of conviction. When her father wanted something to happen, it happened.

"Max is a strong man," he told her. "And he needs you to believe in him."

"I do believe in him. But he's really hurt. I can't believe this is happening. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life."

"The day is not over yet. You are not a quitter, Emma. Lord knows you've proven that to me on a lot of occasions. Don’t you give up on me now."

She drew in a deep breath. "I won't. You're right. Max is going to be fine, and one day this is just going to be a crazy story we tell our kids."

"That's my girl."

"Will you take me to the hospital?"

Her father nodded, but as they turned to leave, she stopped, looking back at the bank. "Where is Spencer? I should find him, make sure he's okay."

"Spencer is talking to Brady. You'll see him at the hospital. He's all right."

"Was he hurt?"

"No, from what I understand Max was the only one shot. Spencer actually took down the bank robbers and saved Max's life. He's a hero."

"Well, good for him," she said. "Max will be proud. He has tried to tell Spencer so many times that he is much more than just an ex-con. But Spencer hasn't been able to see that. Maybe he will now.

Ten minutes later, Emma and the rest of the Callaway clan, as well as Max's mother, Susan Harrison, gathered in the waiting room of the Emergency Department at St. Mary's Hospital. Information was not long in coming, but the news wasn't good.

"Mr. Harrison is being prepped for surgery," the attending physician told Emma. "He took a gunshot wound to the abdomen and suffered heavy blood loss. We won't know the extent of the internal damage until we operate."

"Oh, God!" Susan Harrison said, tears gathering in her eyes.

Emma took Max's mother's hand in hers. Then she turned back to the doctor and asked what they all wanted to know. "Is he going to be all right?"

"We're doing everything we can. The nurse will take you up to the third floor and show you where you can wait." He tipped his head to the woman in blue scrubs standing nearby. "Mr. Harrison will be in surgery for several hours. The surgeon will be Dr. Blake Holland. He will speak to you as soon as it's done."

As the E.R. physician left, Emma looked at the nurse. "He didn't really answer my question."

The nurse gave her a compassionate smile. "Let me show you to the waiting room."