A loud crack ripped through the night. She felt Shamus falling and grabbed him. “Shamus."

"Get down,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

There was another loud crack and a piece of the railing shattered, sending wood splinters flying everywhere. Someone was shooting at them! Her eyes flew to Shamus. The front of his shirt was changing color, turning dark. He'd been shot!

The bullet had been meant for her, but when she'd stumbled, it had hit him instead. Wrapping her arm around him, she half pulled, half dragged him down the steps as another shot rang out. Her arm jerked and began to sting, but she ignored it as she yanked him down behind his truck.

"Where's your phone?” She patted his pockets, but it wasn't there.

"Here.” He handed it to her. Through everything, he'd managed to hang on to it.

Cyndi grabbed it from him. To her surprise, the connection hadn't been broken and the emergency operator was still on the other end of the line. “Call the sheriff's department and send an ambulance. There's someone shooting at us."

"Are you hurt?"

"Shamus is. I'm not sure how bad. I have to see."

"Don't hang up the phone,” the operator instructed.

"Okay.” Cyndi could hear faint sirens in the distance and she saw smoke streaming from the back of the house. None of it mattered. Her entire focus was on the man on the ground beside her. The fact that he was just lying there worried her. His breathing was shallow, his face pale.

Carefully, she raised his shirt. It was sticky with blood. Her stomach roiled and she swallowed hard. She breathed a sigh of relief when his chest seemed unhurt. He grunted in pain as she lifted the cloth, exposing his left shoulder.

Blood seeped heavily from a wound. Cyndi tossed her purse aside, whipped off her sweater, and yanked her nightshirt over her head. Pulling the sweater back on, she then folded the fabric of her nightshirt into a pad and laid it over the wound, pressing down hard.

"We can't stay here. We're too exposed.” Shamus swore as he levered himself up onto his right elbow.

She knew he was right. “Where?"

Another shot kicked up the dirt just inches from her feet. Rolling to his knees, Shamus struggled to his feet. Cyndi stuffed the phone in her purse and hooked it over her head and shoulder. Wrapping her arm around him, she tried to support his weight and keep pressure on his wound at the same time. They moved as quickly as they could, rounding the back of the truck.

Cyndi was sweating heavily now, a combination of fear and exertion. Shamus looked ready to drop in a heap and although the sirens were getting closer, there was no help to be had at the moment. They were on their own.

Shamus stumbled, almost falling twice, but Cyndi managed to keep them upright, finding strength she didn't know she had. They managed to run behind her car, which was further away from the shooter. At least she hoped it was. She really couldn't tell where he was, but all the shots seemed to be coming from one general location.

She could see the flashing lights coming up the road. “Help is almost here. Hang on.” She eased him down on to the damp ground, propping him up against a back tire. Sweat dripped down his brow and she wiped it away. “Everything is going to be okay.” She didn't know who she was trying to reassure. Him or her.

A large pump truck pulled into the yard, followed by a vehicle from the sheriff's department. They cut the sirens. Cyndi jumped to her feet. “Watch out, there's a shooter in the woods!” As if to confirm her warning, a shot took out a headlight on the fire truck. The firemen retreated to the far side of the truck, hunkering down.

Patrick jumped out of the cruiser, drew his weapon, took aim, and returned fire. More vehicles screeched into her yard. “Get some light over toward those woods,” Patrick yelled. Several vehicles backed up and spun around, flooding the trees with light.

Cyndi thought she saw movement to the far right. Apparently, Patrick did too because he fired several shots. Someone yelled, then the yard went quiet.

For about five seconds.

Pandemonium broke out as the firemen started pulling out hoses and headed toward the house. Cyndi breathed a sigh of relief as an ambulance pulled into the driveway and two men jumped out of the front seat. “Over here!” she yelled, waving frantically them. They grabbed their gear and headed toward where she and Shamus had taken shelter.

Patrick made it before the paramedics. He took one look at his brother, but said nothing. The flashing lights against his grim features made him look slightly demonic as he crouched down beside his brother.

"It's his shoulder.” Of course, Patrick probably already knew that, given the fact she was pressing down hard against his left shoulder. “It should have been me. I stumbled on my sneaker lace and Shamus caught me.” She was rambling now, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. There was so much blood on Shamus's shirt.

"Let's see what we've got here.” One of the paramedics took her wrist to move it aside.

"No! He's bleeding. I have to keep pressure on it."

The paramedic eased her hand away. “That's okay. We'll take care of it now."

"You've got to let them work, Cyndi.” Patrick took her by the shoulders and eased her back.

She sat down hard on the ground two feet away and watched as they cut Shamus's shirt off him and put some kind of bandage on his wound. They started an IV before carefully lifting him onto the waiting stretcher.

She was vaguely aware of one of the deputies coming to tell Patrick that, although they found blood in the woods, there was no shooter to be found. There were men still following the trail. They hadn't given up hope and one of the deputies had gone home to get his bloodhound, who was an excellent tracker.

She didn't pay much attention to what Patrick said to the man. All she cared about was Shamus. His eyes were closed and he appeared very pale. When they'd settled him on the stretcher, his eyelids fluttered and he turned his head as if searching for her. She scooted closer and took his hand in hers. “I'm here."

"Come with me."

"Of course I'm going to the hospital with you."

"We need you to tell us what happened here,” Patrick interrupted.

Cyndi pulled her sweater tighter around her. Realizing it wasn't buttoned, she quickly took care of that chore. When they lifted the stretcher, she was right beside it.

Patrick grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt. “Cyndi. I need you to talk to me."

Angry, she shook off his hold. “There was a large explosion. We got up and when we went downstairs, there was smoke coming from the back of the house. When we went outside, someone started shooting at us.” The paramedics loaded Shamus into the back of the ambulance. Cyndi hurried forward with Patrick hot on her heels. “Any more than that will have to wait until later.” She clambered on board, sitting across from Shamus. In the light, she could see him more clearly. His face was smudged with dirt, smoke, and blood. He looked too pale for her peace of mind.

Patrick's grim expression was the last thing she saw as the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away.

"Hey.” Shamus's voice was little more than a harsh whisper.

"Hey yourself.” She reached out and smoothed a lock of hair off his forehead. The strap from her purse pressed against her neck, reminding her of its presence. She shifted it and heard a noise inside. It was only then she remembered the phone. Digging into her purse, she realized the call was still connected. She lifted the receiver to her ear. “Hello."

The emergency operator answered back. Cyndi apologized for forgetting about the woman and told her that they were on their way to the hospital and that the firemen and the deputies were on the scene at her house. After thanking the woman, she hung up the phone. As she tucked Shamus's phone back inside her purse, she saw her own in its usual pocket. She hadn't even thought to use her own phone but she was glad she had it, as the battery was almost dead on Shamus's.

"Should I call your sister?” Cyndi really didn't want to have to be the one to place the call, but someone needed to tell them.

"Please.” Shamus rattled off the number before he closed his eyes again.

Cyndi's hands shook as she used her phone to make the call. It was answered on the second ring by an annoyed male voice. “It's after two in the morning. This better be good."

"Burke?"

She heard rustling in the background. “This is Burke Black. Who is this?"

Cyndi swallowed hard. “Cyndi Marks."

"What do you want?"

"Shamus has been shot, but he's okay.” She hurried on to reassure him. “We're on route to the hospital now."

"What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story. Patrick is still back at my house, and I wasn't sure he'd have time to call you yet."

"We're on our way.” The call was ended abruptly. Cyndi tucked her phone back in her purse just as the ambulance slowed and finally stopped. The back doors were yanked open and several hospital staff helped the paramedics lower the stretcher and quickly wheel it inside.

Cyndi hurried after them, only to be stopped at the large double doors that said “Staff Only". She stood, her hand on the door, peering through the small window as they wheeled the man she loved away from her. He hadn't opened his eyes and she wondered if he was unconscious due to lack of blood.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was one of the paramedics. He appeared concerned. “He'll be okay, won't he?” She was desperate for reassurance. She'd just found Shamus; she couldn't lose him now.