Page 8 of Anchor (First to Fight)
“I’m not gonna make any promises,” I say.
He spits out a mouthful of blood on the concrete next to me. “Fair enough.”
He gets to his feet and helps me up. A crowd of officers press in around us, but Tyler waves them away. He pulls me to the open door of his cruiser and shoves me into the driver’s seat. “There’s a gunman with an estimated ten to fifteen hostages on the ferry, but your daughter is safe.”
A wave of welcome relief crashes over me. The allaying of guilt and fear is so monumental, betraying tears sting my eyes. Tyler presses a hand to my shoulder until I suck it up. When I speak, my voice is still hoarse, though not from Tyler’s very effective methods of restraint. “Where is she?”
“She’s at the hospital with Taylor.”
Guilt assaults me again because I didn’t even think about her. What kind of fucking man am I? “Is—” my throat closes around the words. “Is Taylor okay?”
Tyler nods. “She’s fine. Little bump on the head, possible concussion, but otherwise, she and Emily are very lucky. Get in the car. They’ll fly us over so you can see her.”
I slide across the bench seat to the passenger side and Tyler follows me. The air inside the car is too cool and I shiver even though it’s gotta be a hundred degrees outside. “Explain.”
Tyler shifts with ease and backs out of the parking lot, tires squealing. “There isn’t much information as the story is still developing. All we know is an armed man boarded the ferry about a half hour ago. There was a struggle and Taylor was thrown off the dock. She hit her head on the way down.”
“Jesus Christ,” I bite out.
“Two witnesses say another woman shielded Emily from the perp. They say she saved her from becoming a hostage.”
We make it across the island in record time. Rockaway isn’t big to begin with, but Tyler breaks every speed limit on the way to the small helipad we have for emergencies. He doesn’t bother parking in the designated spots and we dash out of the car to the waiting pilot.
“You Gabriel Rossi?” he asks. I nod and he gestures to the back, “Get in.”
Tyler follows close behind me, but as soon as we get in, I focus on the space in front of us and he fades to my periphery, im-fucking-patient to get to my daughter.
The beat of the helicopter blades drowns out anything else and then we’re lifting up off the ground and moving forward. My stomach drops and once again I’m transported back to the desert where I spent the majority of my time traveling back and forth in the choppy carriage of a helicopter. I have to focus on the cool blue of the water below and the salt in the wind coming in through the open sides to keep from having a bitch of a flashback.
Emily needs me now. She’s what matters.
The ride across the channel between the coast of Florida and the island is mercifully short. Soon, we touch down atop the hospital and I jump out running. A pair of officers greet me at the rooftop entrance and lead me down a flight of dark stairs to a bustling hospital floor. I don’t even have to ask where to go before they lead me to a bank of elevators.
A police officer puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder before the elevator doors swing open to chaos. I nod to him in thanks before I’m enveloped by a sea of nurses. A young, male doctor leads the pack and rushes to my side.
“Mr. Rossi, this way.” He elbows his way through the crowd and leads me down a hall of doors. “Mrs. Rossi is awake, but weak. Her condition is stable.”
Thank God. “And my daughter?”
“She’s here. Your wife’s mother is watching her.”
I don’t bother correcting him and by the time I think to, we’re arriving at a closed door. The doctor pushes it open and reveals a frail-looking Taylor hooked up to monitors and Emily asleep beside her in the hospital bed.
Tears fill Taylor’s red-rimmed eyes and trail down her cheeks. “Gabe.” When her voice breaks she reaches for tissues and covers her face, her shoulders trembling.
I leave the doctor in the doorway and fall to my knees by her bedside. Even with as much animosity as there’s been between us during our divorce, I’m reminded I’ve been inside this woman. She’s beenbymy side, a friend, for years. We may have our moments of anger, but we married each other for a reason. I loved her then, and still care for her now. The part of me who stood by her side for four years burns to annihilate the man who hurt her.
“I’m here.” I don’t know what to do with my hands. The side of her face is black and blue where it must have connected with the dock. There’s a bandage taped from her temple to her chin. “I’m here. I’m sorry.”
Her hand comes to my cheek, and I lean into it. Wires trail down from a clip on her finger to a beeping machine. “Shh. Don’t be sorry.”
“I should have been there.” I kiss her palm and then take it between my hands. “I’m sorry I was late. You were right. You’re always right. I shouldn’t put other people in front of my family. I should have been there,” I repeat, this time with a trace of anger.
She shakes her head, winces, then licks her chapped lips. “Don’t say that.” I press my head over our clasped hands and will the waves of emotions back. “Don’t ever say that. I didn’t realize before what it meant to you to rescue everyone.” At her words, my eyes lift to hers. “I didn’t realize how important people like you are. That if you weren’t rescuing people, no one would. I wish I’d never given you such a hard time.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell her. “You should rest.”
“Let me get this out before they come back with more drugs and I’m too tired to finish it.” She wipes away a tear with her free hand. “The woman who saved Emily, there won’t be any way for me to repay her. And I realized when I woke up she reminds me of you. If you were there, you would have done the same thing. You would have put yourself in front of a man with a gun without a second thought.” Taylor cups my cheek and lifts my eyes to hers. “Our daughter is lucky to have a man like you for a father. And I’m lucky to have you for a friend.”