Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [111]
The whole kitchen froze into a hideous tableau with Rob at the center, crying silently and hunching over his midsection as if he were slowly crumbling.
Sudden movement in the dining room. A flash of auburn hair stopped Miranda’s heart.
Jess.
He peered around the corner of the pass-through and locked eyes on her at once. She made an involuntary movement, a quick jerk of one shoulder, before she bullied her body back to stillness. But in the unnatural silence of the kitchen, it was enough to bring Rob’s head up.
Flailing wildly, Rob swayed on his feet, eyes narrowing on the pass.
Time sped up.
Miranda couldn’t follow it.
Adam gripped her shoulder and pushed, propelling her away from him.
Miranda careened into the salad station, stainless steel countertop thudding into her solar plexus and stealing her air.
Adam exploded into motion, diving for Rob.
Frankie dashed toward the pass, terror in his eyes and a name on his lips.
“Jess!”
A gunshot. Stench of ozone and fear.
Adam tackled Rob to the ground, knocking the gun from his hand.
Time snapped back into place and Miranda started to breathe again. She clutched the stainless steel table and panted.
Sirens screamed outside the restaurant. Quentin and Milo ran to help with Rob, who collapsed bonelessly. All the fight went out of him as soon as the gun was out of his hand.
Adam wrestled Rob into Quentin’s big, capable hands, got off the floor and whirled, looking around frantically until he spotted Miranda.
“You okay?” he asked, circling the salad station and coming up behind her. His arms closed around her tight enough to force the air from her lungs again, but Miranda didn’t care.
“I know, it’s okay, I’m okay. But Adam, that gunshot—”
“No!”
Jess’s agonized voice tore through the kitchen. Miranda pulled out of Adam’s arms.
“Oh, my God,” said Adam faintly.
Frankie was on the ground, stretched in front of the pass like a rag doll tossed aside by a careless child.
Blood seeped reddish-black, puddling under his left shoulder and spreading over the pristine white tile.
Jess banged through the swinging door and skidded to a stop at Frankie’s side, crouching and whimpering, “Please no, oh no, Frankie, please, hold on, hold on.”
Adam’s knees gave out under him, just for a second, but his arm was still around Miranda’s shoulders and she caught the brunt of his weight.
“Adam, honey, come on, we’ve got to go make sure he’s okay,” she said urgently. “Stay with me, you can do this.”
Nodding, Adam set his jaw in a grim line and straightened up. Miranda kept a cautious arm around his waist, but they stumbled over to Frankie and Jess with no problems.
Frankie lay facedown, his right arm curled beneath his body. Jess hovered over him, tears streaming unnoticed down his face.
“I don’t want to move him,” he said. “I’m sure we’re not supposed to move him.”
Miranda helped Adam ease down beside Frankie, careful to avoid the small pool of blood. It didn’t seem to be getting any bigger, but she still said, “Maybe I’ll get some towels? We ought to put pressure on that wound.”
“Hey, Frankie,” Adam said, voice gruff and choked. “Come on, man, wake up.”
Frankie didn’t stir.
Jess met Miranda’s eyes, his own swimming with pain and remorse.
“It’s because of me,” Jess said through white lips. “Rob saw me through the pass. He was aiming for me. Frankie saved my life.”
Miranda’s heart split down the middle, jagged shards cutting into her chest. God, how could one person be so wrong about so many things?
She’d thought Frankie was a danger to Jess. The man had literally thrown himself between Jess and a bullet.
A thready, heartfelt groan sounded from the vicinity of the floor.
“Ah, fucking hell.” Only the accent was so thick, it came out sounding like fockin’ ’ell.
Miranda wasn’t sure she’d ever heard anything more beautiful.
Judging by the dawning elation on Jess’s face, he agreed completely. Adam made a sound between a grunt and