Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (3 page)

The Past

The floor was freezing. Caroline never thought about it before but she very rarely got over to the Capitol Visitor’s Center. And never considered whether it would be wise to park her ass on the marble while wearing a skirt suit.

She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back against the wall. Random voices told her things, random hands poked her arm. She knew the voices she heard were people from the first aid office down the hall from the metal detectors, with maybe a police officer thrown in somewhere. She struggled to concentrate.

“Get back, come on, let me through!”

Caroline heard a familiar, severe female voice nearby, and the personnel scuttled away. She felt the rush of someone practically diving toward her on the floor and caught the scent of expensive perfume.

“Chrissy?” she mumbled.

“I’m right here.” Caroline could hear the concern in Christine’s voice. “Oh, Punky.” She started unbuttoning Caroline’s navy blue suit jacket, pulling it back to try to remove it from her injured arm. She then began pressing on her shoulder and upper arm instead.

Caroline thought she heard her curse and opened her eyes. “That’s not very ladylike, Representative Sullivan.”

Christine hardly ever used profanity. She left that to Caroline and Tom, and to a lesser extent, Jess. Caroline knew Christine was trying to be gentle but it really, really hurt.

“Like I give a shit right now.” Christine was muttering again. “Mother of God.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a medical degree, remember?” Christine’s tone was self-righteous. “I was at the entrance to the House gallery and some random Capitol police officer ran over to get me, yelling something about a shooting at the Visitor’s Center.” She inhaled sharply, continuing to prod at the wound in Caroline’s arm. “He didn’t tell me it was you.”

Caroline weakly attempted to swat Christine’s hand away. “Stop that,” she said.

“You’re bleeding. A lot. I’m fairly certain your brachial artery was hit. I’m trying to slow it down a little.” Christine turned to the policeman standing near them, keeping a steady hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “Have someone go get Representative McIntyre. John McIntyre, from Pennsylvania. He’s on the House floor.” The cop just stood there. “
Now
,” she said firmly.

Christine’s voice was steady, controlled, businesslike. The switch had been flipped. Caroline had never seen her in doctor mode before. It was similar to her congressional mode, but more formidable. Colder.

Christine grabbed the inside of her arm and squeezed. Caroline willed herself not to cry but the pain made it virtually impossible. She tried not to sound too whiny. “Do you have to push so hard?” she whispered.

Christine’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Punky. I’m trying to do what I can before the paramedics arrive.” She looked at the EMTs cowering a few feet away and shook her head. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured. “Useless.”

That was a first. Representative Sullivan throwing shade at medical personnel. Caroline would have commented on it but she was choosing when and what to speak very carefully. Every sentence was a struggle. Christine untied the scarf around her neck, rolled up part of it, pressed it to the wound, and began wrapping the rest of it around Caroline’s arm.

“What are you doing?” Caroline tried to pull away but the pain that radiated through her arm convinced her that moving it was not a wise idea.

“I’m bandaging your arm, goofball. Or, trying to.”

She’d figured that much out. She wasn’t blind. “Why are you doing that?”

“You’re bleeding all over the place.”

Forget saving her words. It was time to be offended. “I gave you that scarf.”

“I know.” Christine gave her an odd look, tightening the wrap. “You have an incredibly random mind, you know that?”

“I got it for you last Christmas.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I bought it at Neiman-Marcus.”

“Congratulations.”

“I never shop at Neiman’s. You know that. That is the most I’ve ever spent on a gift for you and you’re wrecking it.”

Christine raised Caroline’s arm above her head, keeping her hand pressed against the scarf covered wound. “I’m trying to help you here. And, desperate times…”

“You don’t think the EMTs have some gauze and tape?”

“I don’t think those people could find their backsides with both their hands. This works just as well.”

Caroline scowled. “I’m never buying you anything nice ever again.”

Christine sighed. “It is a great relief to me that you are maintaining your sense of humor right now. Just hold still, okay?”

“This must be bad if you’re willing to ruin your scarf and have someone go get Jack.” On top of that, where the hell was the ambulance?

“No, Caroline. You’re going to be fine, even though I know you’re in a lot of pain. I just think he should be here with you.” Christine’s voice was brusque again.

Caroline knew she could trust her. Chrissy would never lie. Not to her. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, counting each breath in her head, attempting to distract herself. It wasn’t working.

“What happened?” Christine asked.

Sharp stabs of pain shot through her arm and down her side, and Caroline struggled to speak. “I brought some constituents over for a tour. I wasn’t supposed to, but you know how I am right before the recess. I wanted to come over here. Personal – touch.” She gasped and Christine let up on the pressure on her arm, just a little.

“Tell me more,” Christine said evenly.

Easy for her to say. It was hard to talk. “Chrissy-”

“Tell me more,” she repeated.

Caroline replayed the scene in her mind. It was hard to forget. “I was about to leave when I saw this guy with a gun. I don’t know how he got in. There was a camp group or something standing near me and I saw him start to point the gun at some of the kids. Or maybe at me, I don’t know. And I reacted. I don’t know how I did it. I don’t even know what I did. It happened so quickly and we were all on the floor and then someone lifted me up against the wall.” She gulped. “Are those kids okay?”

Christine brought her left hand up to sweep the hair back from Caroline’s face, then noticed it was covered in red and hastily drew it out of her line of vision. 

Nausea was not a desirable feeling when coupled with excruciating pain. “That’s a lot of blood,” Caroline said weakly.

“It’s not. Calm down.” But Christine’s tone was less than convincing, and she looked surprised when Caroline grabbed her bloody hand and didn’t let go. “Those children are fine,” she continued. “You got them out of the way. The police must have gotten to the gunman right after he started firing because you’re the only one who got hit.”

“Lucky me.”

Christine massaged the back of Caroline’s hand with her thumb and smiled wanly at her. There was no mistaking it; Christine was shaking. She was upset and couldn’t hide it. Caroline wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or comforted by such a rare display of emotion.

The other hand Christine kept wrapped around her arm was also covered in blood. It dripped down Christine’s arm onto the light gray dress she was wearing. Caroline’s entire left side felt like it was on fire. She started to feel woozy.

“No.” Christine yanked her hand free and smacked Caroline’s face. “Don’t go to sleep. Stay with me.”

Caroline leaned her head back against the wall. Christine’s hand was like a vise around her injured arm. “You’re not being very nice to me, Chrissy.”

“I’d much prefer if you stayed awake for now. Focus on my voice.”

“I really liked this suit,” Caroline murmured. “And now it’s ruined.”

“Or focus on your suit. It’s really up to you.”

“Do you think my Via Spigas will be okay? They’re my favorite pair of shoes.”

Christine let out another audible sigh. “You have a bullet in your arm and you’re talking about your wardrobe. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.” She was going from businesslike to exasperated in a hurry. “I’m sure your shoes are fine.”

“I want to check,” Caroline said groggily. She tried to bend over despite the stinging pain in her upper body.

Christine pushed Caroline back against the wall. “Let it go. I’ll buy you a new outfit the next time we go to Nordstrom.”

“Liar.” She blinked her eyes shut.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not. I’m just trying to keep you from going into shock.”

Caroline heard a noise and opened her eyes. Jack ran toward her, breaking through the crowd of people who had gathered outside the boundary the police had set. A policeman trailed behind him, unable to keep up. He dropped to his knees on the floor next to her.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “Christine, what the hell happened?”

Christine tightened her grip again. “Caroline is going to be fine, Jack. She decided to play hero, that’s all.”

He cradled Caroline’s head in his hands. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

When had they argued in her office? Yesterday? The day before? She couldn’t remember, and he didn’t seem to be dwelling on it. Seeing the concern in his eyes made Caroline come close to breaking down. She bit her lip to stymie the tears, but failed. They started to fall anyway. “My arm hurts,” she whispered.

Jack clenched his teeth. “Baby, I know it does.” He kissed her forehead. “But the ambulance will be here soon and you’re going to be fine. You hear me? You’re going to be fine.”

His hands were nice and warm and she wanted nothing more than to lean into them. Caroline closed her eyes and let her head droop.

“Keep talking to her, Jack,” said Christine. “Keep her attention.”

Caroline cried out in pain. Jack glared at Christine, who was still squeezing Caroline’s inner arm tightly with one hand and pressing against her left side, near her heart, with the other.

“Could you stop doing that?” he asked.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Christine hissed. “I’m trying to contain the damage here.”

“You have a hell of a bedside manner.”

“Just try to keep her conscious,” she snapped.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Jack lightly slapped her face. “Stay here.”

“Why do you two keep hitting me?” Caroline mumbled. “That’s really rude.”

“I’m sorry, Caroline. I’m very sorry. About everything.”

She didn’t care about his apologies right now, but she’d feel guilty if she didn’t express her own regrets as well. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Just now, or before?”

“Both, I think.” The room spun. She was very mixed up. “I don’t know. Mostly before. I’ve been yelling at you a lot.”

“Don’t worry about that now. That was my fault. We can talk about that later.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

Jack kissed her forehead. “You’re going to be fine. I love you so much. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“You’re a good man,” Caroline slurred, hoping Jack could hear her. The noise rushing through her ears made the room sound like a wind tunnel. Had anyone else noticed it? “You’re going to make a wonderful governor.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead again. A clumsy gesture, as if he were trying to soothe himself more than her. “We don’t need to talk about that now, sweetheart. Just breathe and concentrate on the sound of my voice.”

Her mind drifted. “Will you go to the hospital with me?”

“You wouldn’t be able to keep me away if you tried.” His voice started to float away.

“I love you,” she said again. Or had she spoken at all? She wasn’t sure.

“Caroline!” She could hear Jack but he was being very quiet. “Stay here. Come on, baby. Stay here...”

*              *              *              *              *

Caroline blinked a few times and looked around. Her mouth was unbelievably dry. Sterile environment, beeping machines, bed with rails….she was in a hospital room. Ugh.

Her left arm was bandaged and wrapped in a sling, and her right arm had an IV drip, containing what she hoped were some painkillers. Upon closer inspection, she seemed to be in a cast. Man, did she hurt. She felt a weight on her lower abdomen and lifted her head up to take a look. Not that she could see too much. She didn’t have spectacular vision and her contacts felt like small, pointy torture devices.

Jack was asleep, his head on her hips, his arms draped idly across her stomach and legs. He must have been exhausted, since her pelvis seemed like it would be a very uncomfortable resting place. Caroline reached over to pet Jack’s hair. He started to wake up. She hadn’t intended to rouse him, but wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

“Jack,” she croaked. It came out rough. She tried again and continued running her fingers through his hair, repeating his name.

He raised his head slowly. “What?”

He looked like he’d been hit by a truck. She brought her hand to his face, hoping that he could tell how happy she was to see him there.

Jack yawned as she caressed his cheek. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” she said softly, pulling her hand away. “What time is it?”