Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

were the goddamn EMTs?
    ‘You’re hit. You’re covered in blood.’ He was always calm. Unshakable. But not now. Not with her. Not like this. He flexed his fingers, then tried to work the buttons again, glaring when she grabbed his wrists to stop him.
    ‘Not my blood,’ she said, her voice a rasp. ‘Came from earlier.’
    Grayson dropped to his knees beside them. ‘She did first aid on the deputy who was stabbed by Millhouse,’ he said. ‘It’s the deputy’s blood, not hers. She’s wearing a vest. Do you hear me, Joseph? I made her wear Kevlar.’
    Joseph blinked at his brother for a moment, his shoulders sagging with relief as the words sank in. Kevlar . Oh God . He willed his heart to slow down, then realized the blood on her blouse wasn’t spreading. It wasn’t even wet. ‘The blood is dried.’
    ‘Because it’s not mine,’ Daphne muttered, still rasping. ‘And you didn’t make me do anything, Grayson. I’m not an idiot. I wore the damn Kevlar . . . on my own.’
    Ignoring her, Grayson checked Joseph’s eyes, then inspected his back, blanching at what he saw. ‘Bullet holes. But no blood. You look okay. Are you okay?’
    ‘I’m all right. I’m wearing a vest, too. Never leave home without it.’ Joseph didn’t even feel the pain. Yet. But it would come once the adrenaline ebbed. Getting shot while wearing Kevlar still hurt like hell. But it was better than the alternative.
    He twisted around, taking in the scene. It looked like a lot of battlefields he’d been on. He saw one dead, a cop. Half a dozen more were injured. The crowd had scattered, only law enforcement and a few reporters remaining. Cops were checking the wounded, applying first aid. Two uniforms were crouched over the cameraman, working to stop the bleeding. Everyone who needed help seemed to have it.
    Joseph looked back at Grayson to find his brother staring at him. ‘What are you doing here, Joseph? Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but ... What’s going on?’
    Joseph glanced down at Daphne who stared at him as well, but her gaze was clouded with pain. She was tentatively reaching for the back of her head where she’d hit the concrete when the impact of the bullets had knocked her down.
    ‘I need to check her head,’ he said, but Grayson grabbed his arm.
    ‘Dammit, Joseph,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Don’t you dare ignore me.’
    Joseph looked around, then leaned close to Grayson’s ear. ‘I have to get her out of here. Her son’s been abducted. I was on my way to tell her when all hell broke loose.’
    Grayson pulled back slowly, his face shocked. ‘What?’
    ‘You heard me. Keep the reporters away. They may not have picked up on the BOLO yet, but only because this story is bigger. Soon somebody’s going to connect the dots. I need to get her out of here before that happens. I can’t let her find out that way.’
    Grayson visibly pulled himself together. ‘You stay here. I’ll get an EMT to you as soon as we can.’
    ‘I won’t leave her,’ Joseph promised, then pulled latex gloves from his coat pocket and gave them to his brother. ‘You never know what you’ll find in this kind of situation.’
    Grayson took off at a jog and Joseph dropped back down to his knees, angling his body to shield her from cameras as best he could.
    ‘You don’t need to stay with me,’ Daphne mumbled. ‘Other people are hurt worse.’
    ‘Other people aren’t a killer’s target. I’m staying.’ Now that he knew she wasn’t bleeding out, his fury rose anew. ‘What the hell were you doing, throwing that bag at her? She would have shot you.’
    When he and Maynard had arrived, Daphne had just started taking questions. And then bullets started to fly. By the time he’d fought his way through the fleeing crowd of reporters and protesters, she was on the ground beside a man with a hole in his chest, grappling for a camera bag. Joseph had taken a running leap across the courthouse steps and none too soon.
    ‘I was trying to stop her,’ Daphne said thickly. ‘Somebody needed to. Thank you. I think you saved my life.’
    ‘If I’d been a second later . . .’ His blood ran cold. ‘You’d be dead.’
    ‘How many did she kill?’ Her voice was a little less raspy, but still slurred.
    ‘One. Maybe a half dozen injured.’
    ‘Sweet Lord.’ Daphne whispered it, disbelieving. Then her memory reconnected. ‘Stevie!’ She tried to sit up, but Joseph gently pressed her back down. ‘She was