The security team had hustled Jackson in too, which just left Sloan’s dead body, her mother, and the handful of people trying to save her life.
“Chopper is on the way,” Hardwin said. He took Ma’s hand. “Don’t you die on me, Gerri Marshall. Even if you won’t marry me, I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”
Oh, RJ might throw up, right there, and she simply gave in to York’s arms around her, turning her face away. “God, please, please don’t let her die.”
“She’s still breathing,” Knox said. “Ma, stay awake.”
“Let’s get her inside,” Reuben said, running back to them. He scooped up their mother as if she weighed nothing. Knox pressed his hands on her chest and they headed toward the house.
RJ held her breath, unable to move.
Still, no more shots.
“Let’s go,” York said and took her hand.
Inside, they put her mother on the kitchen floor. Kelsey and Coco had retrieved towels and now pressed them against the wound. RJ had taken a look—it seemed the bullet had hit somewhere on the right side of her chest—probably missing her heart, but certainly her lungs had to be damaged.
Her mother wasn’t breathing well, making tiny, pained noises.
“Hang in there, Ma.”
Knox hit his feet. Turned to Hardwin. “Your chopper isn’t going to make it—we gotta take her by plane.”
“They’ll have medical equipment and EMTs.”
“We can fly her to Helena,” Reuben said. “Gilly’s already getting the plane warmed up.”
“Kalispell has the number one trauma center in Montana,” Hardwin said, his voice terribly, perfectly calm. “And it’s just about the same distance.”
And in that moment, he reminded RJ so much of her father, it nearly buckled her legs. Calm. And completely committed to saving their mother.
But not the same, either, because he was standing back, letting the brothers care for their mother.
Then again, he wasn’t her husband.
Yet.
Oh please, Ma. Because her mother had found a true man in Hardwin. A man who wouldn’t walk away.
A man to share all the moments with her—please let her have more moments.
And maybe RJ had found a true man, too, because York still had a hold of her hand. He wasn’t running around like crazy Tate trying to save the world.
York was just right here, with her, saving hers.
Even though she told him they couldn’t be together.
But as she stared at her mother trying to breathe, blood pooling on the kitchen floor, she realized—
She wanted York more than she wanted a life that—well, that could explode in her hands at any moment. What had he said? I’d eat turnips if it meant you were with me.
Yeah, turnips for her too. Because she would rather be with him for all the boring moments than without him for the big ones.
Forever and ever, amen.
But now wasn’t the time to tell him that.
Hardwin walked out to the porch, again on his phone. This time, RJ heard shouting.
Tate came charging back into the room. RJ wasn’t sure where he’d gone—maybe to see Jackson and her crew off back to the vacation house.
Glo sat on the sofa in the family room, her arms wrapped around herself in her beautiful, now grass-and-blood-stained wedding dress, her knees scraped from when Tate tackled her, tears streaming down her face.
RJ felt bad for her. And now replayed their conversation in the den in her head.
Glo was so sure her mother was innocent.
Except…and amidst all the chaos and horror, as Tate and her brothers packed their mother’s wound with ice and bandages, it came to RJ—what if Sloan had been the target?
What if everything he said had been true? He hadn’t been a traitor but had indeed been framed. A scapegoat for someone else’s actions. Because why else would he leap on the senator, trying to protect her?
Hardwin came back inside. “Let’s get her down to the plane. They’re on their way, but they might not get here in time.”
“We need a stretcher,” Knox said.
Wyatt walked over to a kitchen drawer, took out a butter knife, and started to remove the hinges on the pantry door.
Tate helped him.
“What if Sloan was the target?” she said to York and maybe anyone else who was listening. “What if he was silenced because—”
“Oh, not this again,” Glo said, jumping up. “Seriously? Someone just tried to murder my mother and you’re going to bring up your crazy conspiracy theory?”
“Glo—c’mon!” Tate was saying as he brought over the door. “Not now.” He looked at RJ with a glare.
“But—if he was the target, why would he try and save her life?”
“He didn’t try and save her life!” Tate shouted. “The shooter missed!” He turned to Reuben. “Let’s lift her onto the board.”
“Did he? What if this was intended to silence—”
“Shut up, RJ!” Wyatt said, crouching near their mother, lifting her shoulders with the rest of his brothers. “Just shut up.”
His tone rocked RJ back, but no more than the look he gave her after they settled their mother on the door. “You got us all into this freakin’ mess—if you hadn’t gone over to Russia with your stupid overactive imagination—”
“Hey!” York said.
“No, you hey,” Knox said, getting up. “Step back, York.” He looked at Wyatt. “This isn’t the time.”
“When is the time, Knox?” Tate said. “This is crazy, RJ! Sloan escaped so he could connect with whomever his shooter was—probably this Martin guy you talked about.”
“Martin is dead,” York said quietly.
“Really?” Tate said. “How do you know?”
“Really.” York let go of RJ’s hand, took a breath, and stepped toward Tate. “Because I killed him.”
And the entire room went quiet. Tate just blinked at York, and Knox blew out a breath. Reuben ignored them all, motioning to Wyatt to pick up the other end of the door.
But Wyatt was looking at RJ. “Nice. So now, whoever is after you is after us.” He lifted the door, his gaze on RJ. “You brought an assassin into our lives and now Ma is dying.”
And if there was any air left in the room, Wyatt’s words sucked it out.
York’s not an assassin, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t emerge. Because, actually, well…
RJ’s eyes filled and she turned away, pressed her hand to her mouth.
“Let’s go,” Hardwin said, but behind his words came the distant hum of a chopper.
He ran out to the backyard, waving his hands.
Tate didn’t look at RJ as he held open the door for Reuben and Wyatt, as they carried their mother to the chopper, Knox still pressing on her wound.
The blue-and-red chopper landed in the yard, and the door opened. A couple of EMTs came out, a man with long brown hair tied back, the other a taller man, the copilot. A woman sat in the cockpit, kept the rotors turning.
The two EMTs transferred her mother onto a gurney and loaded her into the chopper, securing the gurney to the floor. Meanwhile, the brothers waged a loaded conversation, hidden under the roar of the chopper, as to who might ride with her.