CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding by Yasmine Galenorn

it’s just a surface wound.”
    I let go of the book and she tucked it back into my handbag. “You’re right. I can’t seem to think straight. I’m so scared, Mur. What if he … what if something goes wrong … what if—”
    “What if you put those what-ifs on hold? Come on, I’ll bet you haven’t had a full breath since Deacon showed up at the door.” She made me turn around and began rubbing my shoulders. As the tension loosened, I inhaled deeply, realizing that she was right. As I coughed, I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. A doctor had entered the room and was headed my way. I recognized him, too, from one of our numerous trips to the ER.
    Jumping up, I raced over, scanning his face anxiously. “Can you tell me about Joe?”
    He held out his hand and smiled. “You can relax, Emerald. He’s going to be all right. The bullet winged him, grazing his shoulder right below his collarbone, but it didn’t go in. Joe must have turned just as the bullet came whizzing by, because it caught him at the perfect angle—for him, not for whoever it was trying to shoot him. He’ll be fine, though he’s going to hurt like hell the next week or so.”
    Dizzy with relief, I felt my knees give way, but before I landed on my butt, strong arms buoyed me up. Jimbo had rushed to my side, catching me a second before I hit the floor. He helped me to a chair.
    The doctor sat down next to me. “Mr. Files is an athletic young man, and that worked in his favor. He has abrasions and a lot of bruising, but nothing that won’t heal.” He looked at Deacon. “Since the bullet didn’t penetrate, your men should find it out at the scene, Officer Wilson. My guess, from the wound, is that the gun was a twenty-two. If it had been a shotgun, there would have been a lot more damage, and the buckshot would have made a mess of his arm.” He consulted the file. “We’ll want to keep him for twenty-four hours for observation, but I think he’ll be able to go home tomorrow.”
    Breathing easier, I asked, “Can I see him?”
    The doctor put his hand on mine. “Of course, but give us about fifteen minutes to make him comfortable in a room. A nurse will come get you when he’s ready for visitors.”
    “Is he up to answering a few questions?” Murray asked.
    With a shrug, the doctor said, “I think a few questions will be fine, but don’t overtire him.” And with that, he left the room.
    “Thank God he’s going to be okay.” I slid back in my seat as the panic rushed out like a wave on the ebb. Tears streaked down my cheeks as I silently gave thanks to whatever force had saved my sweetheart. I could easily have been Joe’s widow before I’d even been his bride.
    Murray pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll let Harlow know so she can tell the kids,” she said.
    Jimbo gave me a thumbs-up. “I told you he’s tough. O’Brien, wipe your eyes and blow your nose and fix your makeup. Joe’s going to need cheering up and that long face of yours is about as cheerful as a hog on butchering day.”
    I narrowed my eyes, unable to keep from laughing. “Are you calling me a pig, biker man?”
    He grinned. “That’s the stuff. You’re a tough broad, O’Brien. And that is a compliment.”
     
     
    JOE WAS IN bed, propped against pillows, with an IV in his arm and a Telfa bandage covering the space just below his collarbone on his left side. He opened his eyes when we walked through the door. I raced over to his side, dropping into the chair next to his bed.
    He winced a little as he shifted to get a better look at me. “Hey, babe, good of you to visit.” His voice was groggy; they’d given him pain medication and it had made him tired.
    “Joe, don’t you ever do this to me again! I was afraid …” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t finish my thoughts. Sometimes saying something aloud made it all too real. I clutched his right hand, focusing on the feel of his fingers in mine, the warmth of his flesh against my own.
    “I