Chapter 156 What Does That Mean?
Chapter 156 What Does That Mean?
By the time paramedics prepared to move Amelia from the gallery, the public spaces had already been cleared.
The evacuation had begun before anyone outside the small circle surrounding the rear corridor could understand what was actually happening. Gallery staff had calmly informed guests that a possible utility problem had been detected near the back of the building and, out of an abundance of caution, everyone needed to evacuate. With the opening suspended for the evening, guests had been ushered outside and away from the property while security kept the service areas inaccessible.
The arrival of the fire department, police and several ambulances had only reinforced the explanation. To anyone who had attended Lila's opening, emergency personnel responding to a possible gas leak or ruptured line made perfect sense.
Behind the secured service doors, however, the truth was considerably different.
Law enforcement knew exactly what had happened. The rear corridor and restroom were being treated as crime scenes. Marcus had been stabbed and drugged. Ethan had been shot. Jason was dead, and Amelia had been held at gunpoint during an attempted abduction. Evidence would be collected, statements would be taken and every piece of the attack would be investigated.
None of that required the details to become public.
Amelia was taken through the service entrance rather than the front of the gallery, shielded from the few curious people who remained in the surrounding area. Marcus and Ethan were transported the same way, while Jason's body remained inside under the control of law enforcement.
As far as Lila's guests were concerned, her opening had ended early because of a building emergency.
Bryson intended to keep it that way.
The ambulance doors had barely closed behind them before Amelia asked about Marcus again.
Bryson sat beside her with one hand wrapped tightly around hers while a paramedic attached leads to her chest and another checked her blood pressure. A blanket covered the lower half of her body, although the sapphire gown she had worn to Lila's opening remained intact except for dust along one side and the dark scuff where her shoulder and hip had struck the restroom wall.
There was no blood on it.
Bryson had checked.
More than once.
He knew Amelia hadn't been shot. He had watched Jason turn the weapon toward Amy and fire. He had seen Amy drop beneath the shot, Ethan take the bullet in his upper arm and Evan put two rounds into Jason's chest.
Knowing all of that hadn't stopped Bryson from searching Amelia's body and dress for blood the moment he reached her. Even after the paramedics confirmed there was no penetrating injury, he'd checked again.
Now the absence of blood was one of the few things keeping him steady.
“Marcus,” Amelia repeated. “You said he was alive when they took him out.”
“He was.”
“That was before we left.”
“I know.”
“So call somebody.”
Bryson looked at her.
She was pale and frightened, strapped to a stretcher after being held at gunpoint, nearly kidnapped and violently thrown into a tiled wall.
Still bossy.
Under almost any other circumstances, he would have smiled.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
The paramedic glanced toward him. “I'd rather she stay as calm as possible.”
“So would I,” Amelia said. “Which is why he's going to find out whether Marcus is still alive.”
Bryson stared at her for a moment before looking toward the paramedic.
The man wisely returned his attention to the blood-pressure cuff.
Bryson called Cole.
The call was answered almost immediately.
“Tell me.”
“Marcus is alive,” Cole said before Bryson could ask. “They're transporting him now. He lost a lot of blood, and whatever was in that dart is complicating things, but he's alive.”
Bryson closed his eyes briefly as relief moved through him.
Amelia was watching his face.
“He's alive,” Bryson told her.
Her shoulders dropped against the stretcher.
“Thank God.”
“Cole's with him.”
“Tell him not to leave him.”
Bryson relayed the message.
Cole was silent for a beat before answering.
“Wasn't planning to.”
Bryson understood.
“How's Ethan?”
“He's going in the second ambulance. The wound is in his upper arm. EMS thinks the bullet passed through, but they'll confirm everything at the hospital. He's conscious, pissed off and complaining that everybody is overreacting.”
That sounded like Ethan.
“And Amy?”
“With the police.”
Bryson's jaw tightened at the mention of her.
“Jason?”
Cole's voice changed.
“Confirmed dead.”
Bryson looked at Amelia.
She had heard.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Bryson had known what he'd seen. Evan had fired twice into Jason's chest after Jason turned the gun toward Amy and fired. The first round had driven him backward, and when his gun hand moved again, Evan had fired the second. Jason had gone down and hadn't moved.
Hearing the confirmation still made the finality settle differently.
Jason was dead.
Whatever he'd known about Ashley's plan had died with him, leaving behind questions that could no longer be answered by the man who had carried it out.
Amelia looked away.
Bryson ended the call only after making Cole promise to update him the moment Marcus reached the hospital.
The paramedic checked Amelia's blood pressure again.
“Still elevated, but that's expected considering what you've been through.”
Bryson's attention immediately shifted to him.
“How elevated?”
“Not at a level that's surprising after an event like this.”
“What about the abdominal pain?”
“We're monitoring her.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
“Bryson.”
He looked at Amelia.
She was watching him with tired patience.
“He can't ultrasound me in the ambulance.”
Bryson's jaw flexed. “I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you're looking at him like you expect him to pull one out of his pocket.”
The paramedic's mouth twitched.
Bryson noticed.
“Don't encourage her.”
That earned the smallest smile from Amelia, but it disappeared when the ambulance hit a slight bump in the road.
Her hand immediately moved toward her lower abdomen.
Bryson saw it.
“Still hurting?”
“Yes.”
“Is it worse?”
“The same.”
He leaned closer. “Sharp?”
“Not really. More like an ache. My side hurts where I hit the wall, but this feels lower.”
The fear returned to her eyes.
Bryson covered the hand resting protectively over her stomach with his own.
“We're almost there.”
“What if—”
“No.”
“Bryson.”
“We don't know anything yet.”
Her eyes filled.
He softened immediately.
“I'm not telling you that you aren't allowed to be scared. I'm scared too.”
That stopped her.
Bryson rarely admitted fear, but pretending he hadn't been terrified from the moment he'd seen Jason's gun pressed against her stomach seemed pointless now.
He brushed his thumb slowly over her knuckles.
“I am scared, Amelia. But I'm not going to let either of us decide something terrible has happened before a doctor examines you. We don't know that anything is wrong with the baby, and until someone tells us otherwise, I'm holding on to that.”
Amelia studied him for several seconds before nodding.
“When Jason put the gun there...” Her voice faded.
Bryson's expression changed.
“You don't have to talk about that right now.”
Amelia stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, but not talking about it didn't stop the memory from returning. She could still feel the cold pressure of the weapon through the fabric of her dress, Jason's arm locked across her chest and his voice close to her ear. Worse was the helpless certainty she'd felt when she realized there was nothing she could physically put between the gun and the tiny life growing inside her.
Bryson must have understood where her thoughts had gone because he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“When Amy moved, I knew I had to get away from him,” Amelia said quietly. “I just didn't expect him to throw me like that.”
“I know. I saw you hit the wall.”
Her eyes shifted toward his. “You were already moving toward me.”
Bryson didn't deny it. “The second I saw Amy move, I started toward you. By the time Jason let you go, I was already coming.”
“He still had the gun, Bryson. He could've shot you instead of Amy.”
“I knew he still had the gun, sweetheart.” His thumb moved slowly over the back of her hand. “I spent every second before that doing whatever I could to keep him focused on me instead of hurting you. Once he released you, I wasn't going to stand there and leave you on the floor because I was afraid he might shoot me.”
Amelia stared at him. “You could've gotten yourself killed.”
“And leaving you on that floor while an armed man was standing five feet away from you was never going to be an option for me.”
Her eyes filled again.
“You can't keep deciding that your life doesn't matter whenever mine is in danger.”
“That isn't what I decided.” Bryson leaned closer, his expression softening. “My life matters very much to me, Amelia. I happen to be extremely fond of it. But in that moment, getting to you mattered more than being afraid of what might happen to me. Those are two different things.”
Despite everything, the corner of her mouth trembled.
“You are impossible.”
“I've heard that a few times.”
She squeezed his hand before growing quiet again.
“Marcus helped me too.”
Bryson waited.
“He taught me what to do if somebody ever grabbed me from behind. He told me not to panic and start fighting just because I was scared. If I didn't have an opening, I was supposed to watch, listen and wait until security created one.”
Bryson's expression softened.
“I kept hearing him in my head while Jason was holding me,” Amelia continued. “Even when Jason wanted me to leave the building with him, I remembered what Marcus told me about never willingly going to a second location if I had any possible way to stop it. I knew I couldn't overpower Jason, so I stalled him.”
“Then Marcus protected you even after he couldn't physically get to you.”
The realization settled heavily between them.
Amelia blinked back fresh tears.
“And Amy risked her life for me.”
Bryson's jaw tightened at the name, though he didn't immediately disagree.
“She did,” he finally said. “I won't take that away from her. She moved toward an armed man when she knew exactly what could happen, and that gave you the opening you needed.”
Amelia watched him.
“But,” Bryson continued, “she also entered that gallery under a false name because Ashley sent her there to watch you, and she recognized Jason without immediately telling anyone who he was. I can be grateful that she risked her life to protect you without pretending everything that happened before that no longer matters.”
“I know.” Amelia exhaled slowly. “I don't know what to think about her either.”
“You don't have to decide tonight.” Bryson lifted her hand and pressed another kiss against her knuckles. “She helped you when it mattered most, and I will never pretend she didn't. But before I decide what Amy Reynolds deserves from either of us, I want the truth. I want to know why she was there, exactly what Ashley told her, why she knew Jason and why the hell nobody knew Ashley had an identical twin.”
Amelia nodded slowly.
For now, that was enough.
Amy had lied to her. She had entered Lila's gallery under a false identity because Ashley had sent her there to observe Amelia, and she had withheld information that might have mattered sooner. But when Jason pressed a loaded gun against Amelia's stomach, Amy had also thrown herself into danger to create the opening that allowed Amelia to get away.
Neither truth erased the other.
Amelia didn't have to decide tonight what either of them meant.
There were more immediate questions waiting for her at the hospital. Marcus had survived the ride there, but he was still badly injured. Ethan had been shot. Her own shoulder, hip and side ached from the impact against the wall, and beneath all of that was the tenderness lower in her abdomen that frightened her more than any bruise ever could.
Her hand drifted protectively over her stomach again.
Bryson's followed almost immediately, his palm settling over hers beneath the blanket.
For the remainder of the ride, neither of them spoke.