Bennett: an m/m bodyguard romance (Hunter Security), page 15
Tears burn at my eyes as he drags me along. The only chance I have at saving myself and Bennett is to go with the flow for now, so I stop fighting and go through the crowd with a deranged man, all the while praying that someone stops to help the love of my life.
Panic threatens to take over, but I keep my eyes peeled, hoping to find a way out of this situation.
As we mingle with the crowd, I finally spot a familiar man to my left. If I’m right, it’s Marcell, so I try to make eye contact with him while not alerting the stalker to my plan.
Look at me, I scream inside my head. Fucking look at me.
We continue walking, and I’m afraid Marcell isn’t going to catch on when, finally, he turns his head and our eyes lock.
Help, I mouth, pleading with my eyes for him to have a plan. His brows shoot up, and he gives me a nod before saying something into his walkie-talkie.
Our pace never stops, and I eventually lose sight of Marcell. I can only pray that whatever plan he has works.
When I look forward, I see the crowd starting to thin out ahead, meaning we are getting far enough away from the danger that people can disperse. Unfortunately, it also means this man is likely to take me to another location, even farther away from any chance of being saved.
I am trying not to panic, but my heart is racing, and I feel it throbbing in my throat. I look around wildly, searching for any way to get free. Willing myself to take deep breaths, I try to dispel some of the adrenaline fog in my head so I can think more clearly.
Suddenly, the people behind us become aware of the thinning crowd ahead and become impatient, pushing and shoving their way forward. The force of so many people hits against me hard, but it manages to knock me out of the grasp of the stalker. Without even thinking, I turn to flee. It’s now or never.
Knowing I can’t go with the crowd since it’s the way we were headed, and trying to go back would be pushing against the tide of people, I push sideways, opting to let them move around me.
I don’t get far when I hear the man shout “No” at the top of his lungs, and two gunshots go off.
Pain pierces through my shoulder, and I drop to the ground, clutching the bullet wound.
I’m expecting the stalker to catch up to me, but he doesn’t show. Instead, it’s Marcell who crashes to his knees beside me.
“We’ve got to get you to an ambulance,” he states, taking his shirt off and pressing it hard against my shoulder.
I nod, and he helps me stand. When I turn my gaze back toward where my stalker was, Marcell urges me to walk.
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore,” he assures me.
I’m not sure what he means. Is the guy dead, wounded, or maybe in custody? I’m not sure what outcome I am hoping for more. A part of me wants him dead so that no matter what, I’ll never have to see his face again, yet another part thinks that’s the easy way out and he doesn’t deserve that.
“Do you know how Bennett is?” I ask Marcell as we walk toward some flashing lights.
He shakes his head. “I know he was taken to a hospital, but I don’t know more than that.”
That isn’t much to go on, but at least if he was taken to a hospital, there is hope he’s still alive.
“What about the rest of the security team? Were any of them hurt in the explosions? What about my band and my sister?”
“Everyone is accounted for,” Rip states, walking up to us. His words settle my nerves a little, but I still have more questions. “Get in the ambulance, and I’ll fill you in on everything else.”
The paramedics get me situated as I wait for Rip, who is talking with Marcell, before climbing in with me.
“How is Bennett?” I ask when I have Rip’s attention, and I’m no longer being poked and prodded.
“He’s in surgery. So is Henley. That’s all I know.”
I gasp. “When he didn’t report in over the radio, I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but Henley’s alive?”
Rip nods. “Yes, and hopefully, when we arrive, there will be new information for us.”
“What about everyone else? Where is Aria, Brando, Joseph, and Landon?” I ask, my words tumbling out as my heart races.
“You need to calm down,” one of the paramedics instructs.
“Everyone is at the hospital with Carter and Cole guarding them. Michael is following behind the ambulance,” Rip tells me, and I try to take a few slow, deep breaths. “Everything is going to be fine.”
He sounds like he means the words, but there is no way he can make that promise. Shit happens so fast, and things can change at the flip of a dime. I won’t believe everything will be okay until Bennett is next to me, holding my hand and smiling at me.
Rip focuses on his phone for the rest of the ride, and I keep wondering what will happen when I get to the hospital. Obviously, I’ll get checked over and stitched up. I’ll be fine in the long run, but what about Bennett and Henley?
If we arrive and I’m told they didn’t make it out of surgery, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it. If anyone other than the stalker dies tonight, I’ll never outlive the guilt.
I should have canceled the concert as everyone urged me to. I would have, had I known things were going to get this bad. But I was a fool and once again only thought about myself. I figured the threat was still only against Bennett and me. I never fathomed that the stalker would go to such extremes and risk hurting so many other people.
The ambulance ride is quick, and when we arrive at the hospital, I’m swiftly given an X-ray, where it is confirmed the bullet went directly through my shoulder, missing the bone and anything major. Then I am escorted into a private room to get stitches and antibiotics.
“Thank fuck you’re alive,” Aria cries out when she barges through the door as the doctor is leaving. I’m surprised it took her this long to gain access to the room.
Tears are streaming down her face, and I know without a doubt I’ve never seen her this hysterical before.
“How are you?” I ask, trying to get the focus off me.
“Not fucking well,” she replies honestly. “I’ve been trying to distract myself from worrying by working with Hillary on trying to gain control of the narrative. Social media and the news are obviously all over this story.”
“Oh shit… were any fans hurt?” I question, and my stomach rolls, hoping like hell she’ll say no.
“No major injuries and no deaths,” she assures me. “There are a few people who got banged up since panic set in after the first explosion, but thankfully, the venue security was on it and took control of the situation fast. They ensured no one was trampled and that everyone got out as safely as possible.”
I blow out a sigh of relief.
“Any news on Bennett yet?” I check, even though the doctor already promised he would send someone in as soon as they knew more.
Aria shakes her head, staring at the floor. “How did this turn into such a shit show?”
I wish I had an answer for her, but I don’t, and who knows when we’ll get them?
She sits on the side of my bed and holds the hand of my good arm. “We’ll get through this together like we always have,” she whispers, and I nod.
Aria will always hold me when I crumble, but is that going to be enough to get me through the pain if I lose Bennett?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bennett
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Someone needs to shut that fucking beeping off.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Where the hell is it even coming from?
The annoying noise doesn’t stop, and I’m ready to throw whatever it is out a fucking window. But when I try to move, it’s like my body weighs three thousand pounds. It’s not like one gains that much weight overnight, so something is obviously off. Even my eyelids feel like they are tied down by weights.
I keep trying to force my eyes open as the beeping continues, but more noise filters through. People are talking around me, but I’m having a hard time making sense of the words. It all sounds like gibberish, and that can’t be right.
Finally, after what feels like an hour of trying, my eyes open, and I’m greeted with bright fluorescent lights, causing me to squeeze them shut again.
Where the fuck am I?
My body shivers, suddenly freezing, and my face is damp from tears streaming down my cheeks, even though I’m not sad.
“It’s okay,” the soothing voice of my man tells me. A voice I could never forget.
Archer’s hand slides into mine, and I focus on how calming his touch is.
After a couple of deep breaths, I open my eyes again, this time focusing on the sexy country star at my side. As his face comes into focus, memories come rushing forward, and I squeeze his hand tighter.
“S-s-s.” I’m trying to say stalker, but my throat is on fire, and I’m struggling to get the word out.
“Shh, rest your voice,” Archer tells me. “Your doctor is on his way. He’ll explain everything.”
I nod but regret that decision as a throbbing pain erupts.
How the fuck did I survive being shot in the neck?
“Mr. Carter, it’s good to see you awake,” a man with a stethoscope around his neck says as he enters the room. This must be my doctor.
“Can he have water?” Archer asks. “He tried talking, but I think his throat is raw.”
“Of course,” the doctor replies, turning to a young woman in bright pink scrubs. “Can you get a glass of water for Mr. Carter, please?”
She nods with a smile, then leaves the room.
“Do you know why you are here?” the doctor asks me.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, not wanting to try full words yet but also wanting to keep my neck still.
“That’s good,” he says reassuringly. “When you were shot, the bullet went through the side of your neck. It severed your carotid artery, which normally would have had you bleeding out.”
I’m sure my eyes are comically wide right now. How the hell did I get lucky enough to not die?
“Thankfully for you, someone in the crowd knew to pinch the artery shut,” he continues. “I’ve never seen roach clips used for something like that in all my years of being a doctor, but it worked. I’d like to know how this passerby knew what to do, but it’s my understanding that he disappeared when the paramedics showed up.
“When you arrived at the hospital, you were rushed into surgery for an arterial graft. The surgery went well, and we were able to remove the damaged piece of your artery and replace it with a flexible hose that will act as a blood vessel.
“We’re going to keep you here for at least another day or two to make sure you don’t show any signs of infection. You’re going to have a pretty significant scar, which is nothing compared to the alternative. But… as far as we can tell right now, you’re on the road to a full recovery.”
I’m stunned as I take in his words. I am one lucky son of a bitch to be alive right now.
When the nurse arrives, Archer takes the cup from her and brings the straw to my lips. I take slow sips, relishing in the relief the cold liquid offers.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the doctor who helped save my life.
“Of course. On a scale of one to ten, what is your pain like right now?” he asks.
“Seven,” I answer honestly. “And I’m really cold.”
“That could be from the anesthetic wearing off,” he explains. “The nurse can top up your meds to bring the pain down and get it under control. I’ll make sure someone brings in another blanket. Right now, the most important thing you can do is rest.”
“I’ll try,” I respond and try to smirk at the doctor, which thankfully brings a smile to Archer’s handsome face.
“I’ll make sure he does,” Archer assures the doctor.
“I’ll check on you in the morning,” the doctor states, then leaves.
The nurse gets to work putting more medicine into my IV line while another comes in momentarily to drop off another blanket as promised. Archer and the nurse spread it over me, and I instantly feel warmer.
Before leaving, the nurse meets my eyes and gives me a stern look. “It’s important that the meds stay ahead of the pain. At the first sign of discomfort, tell me. There is no place for tough-guy grin-and-bear-it nonsense here. You get me?”
I want to chuckle because she obviously has me pegged, but I give her a small smile and attempt to tip my chin in agreement. She nods, lets me know to press the button if I need anything, then leaves to check on other patients.
Archer helps me sip more water, but then my eyelids become heavy again as the meds kick in, and it becomes ridiculously hard to keep them open.
“Rest,” Archer tells me when he notices my struggle. “I’ll be here when you wake. I’m not going anywhere.”
As promised, when I wake, Archer is by my side, and even though I’m sure sleeping in a hospital chair wasn’t comfortable, I’m happy he stayed.
“How did you sleep?” he asks.
There are bags under his eyes, and a small yawn slips past his lips, so it’s evident he didn’t sleep well.
“Not bad, but I missed having you cuddled against me,” I tell him, and he grins.
“I promise once you get out of here, you won’t be able to get me out of your bed,” he replies, leaning down for a gentle peck.
“I hear someone’s awake,” Rip says, tapping on the door frame of the hospital room.
When he enters, I notice he’s not alone. The guy with him looks familiar, but I’m struggling to put a name to the face.
“Do you remember Marcell?” Rip asks, and it finally clicks. He’s the venue’s head of security.
“It took me a second, but I do now,” I reply. “Please tell me you have some answers as to what the hell happened last night.”
Marcell’s face drops. “I do, but first, I want to apologize for failing everyone last night,” he starts but pauses to swallow down his emotion. “I pride myself on running a tight ship, and yet someone was able to enter the stadium, plant bombs, and shoot two people.” His voice cracks at the end, so he clears his throat before continuing. “The police have identified Archer’s stalker as Samuel McGilvery. He gained access to the stadium with the stolen identification tag of a newly hired janitor, George Conroy. Samuel beat George the night before the incident and left him for dead in his apartment.”
Archer gasps and covers his mouth.
“George will live, and the stadium is vowing to make sure all of his medical treatments are covered along with paying him during his recovery,” Marcell adds. “I was the one who rescued Archer last night, shooting Samuel to get him away. I wish I’d been faster so that Archer wasn’t shot too.”
I turn to my man and only now realize his left arm is in a sling. Tears prickle behind my eyes. I failed him. He could have died because I didn’t see Samuel soon enough.
“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” Archer grits out like he’s reading my mind.
“I only intended on wounding Samuel, but my shot was lethal. So, I’m afraid that some questions we have will never be answered.”
I nod, letting his words sit with me for a second. I’m not upset that Samuel is dead. People like him can rot in hell for all I care, but I don’t love that there are unanswered questions. It’s always going to feel like we’re missing pieces to this puzzle.
“I do have the answer to one question, though, and hopefully, this information will put your minds at ease,” Rip butts in. “Samuel’s accomplice was caught and arrested. It was his idiot brother. He was bragging about the fire at your house in a bar. The owner overheard the conversation and called the police.
“The second he was brought in, he confessed to the entire thing and even ratted on Samuel. He claimed to not know why Samuel was obsessed with you but said he never second-guessed anything his brother told him to do. Unfortunately, the conversation only happened while the explosions were going off.
“Nixon phoned me as soon as he was notified. I guess he tried to call you as well, but we’re not sure if that was before or after you were shot.”
“At least we don’t have to worry about these incidents continuing,” I murmur, feeling a rush of relief at that.
“If you want more closure, you can watch the interview for yourself,” Rip suggests, and I nod. That probably isn’t a bad idea. “The police will be coming by to interview both of you today. They interviewed everyone else last night, but I was able to ask them to come back for the two of you and Henley, using your injuries as excuses.”
I gasp. “Henley’s alive?”
Rip’s lips turn up. “Yes. He was crushed by a wall that fell during the explosion, which caused massive damage and broken bones. Things were touch and go during his surgery, thanks to his internal bleeding, but they were able to get it under control, and he’s now recovering. He’ll have to stay in the hospital longer than you, but they have high hopes that he’ll make it through.”
“Thank God,” I reply, some of the weight lifting from my shoulders and making breathing easier.
“That’s how I felt when I heard the news last night,” Archer tells me. “The only person who died last night is Samuel, and the world is a better place without him.”
I smile at the man who has changed so much in me. “Now we can build our relationship without a looming threat over us.”
He chuckles. “Yes, and I can’t wait.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Archer
We had to cancel five shows, but we’re back on schedule now, and I’m excited to perform, even if I’m missing my man like crazy.
I wave at our fans as I walk across the stage for our first show since the incident. The crowd’s roar fills my soul and gives me this intense rush of joy I experience every time I step on stage. It’s a high I love chasing. The only other time I feel like this is when I’m in Bennett’s arms, where I know I’ll be soon enough.
Much to Bennett’s dismay, he’s at home resting for at least a month, or until I feel comfortable with him coming on the road again. His recovery time is roughly four to six weeks, and if he would rest, it would probably be fine for him to tour with me, but that’s not his personality. Since my injuries didn’t require surgery, being back on stage a week later isn’t a big deal. I only have to dial things back for the time being.
