XXIII

"Boom and he fell, right in front of my face," said Emma, shaken from the night's events. After all she had been through in the past week, shooting a gun is what had frightened her the most.

Woody, his head bandaged, sat beside her on the couch, he rubbed her back placidly. He had been knocked unconscious by the blow but his concussion. He now had to stay awake for the next twenty-four hours, so as not to fall victim to a coma.

Jordan stood in a corner; her arms folded wishing she had never come. She looked at the clothes littered on the floor. Tossed in the heat of passion; she felt ill.

Woody's comrades milled about, lifting fingerprints from every surface, finding his entrance point, the bedroom window, taking pictures, samples of his blood, gathering evidence for an open and shut case. Archie Dalton would be charged with double homicide, and attempted murder on two counts, kidnapping and threatening death to a police detective, among other indelible offences. Once he got out of the hospital, he was going to be locked away for a long time.

The bullet had not killed him, though perhaps he wished it had. Emma may have been aiming for the center of his body but her weak, shaking hand was not accustomed to shooting a gun. When she had pulled the trigger her arms shot back into her body and the bullet's path was slightly higher, shattering his clavicle and piercing his trapezius muscle; at least that is what Emma overheard on of the Emergency Medical Officer say. Woody had refused any other treatment though he too was shaken as he had been after being shot; he never thought he would be attacked in his own home. Considering the criminal they had been hunting had been watching him and Emma, from the third story window, just the thought made his stomach churn. How he had gotten up there, and to Emma's hotel room, is what the police were trying to figure out.

The hours ticked by Emma dwelled on what had happened moments after shooting the gun. She felt that those images would be scratched into her mind forever.

He stumbled back and hit the wall, his weapon falling to his side. He screamed in agony. Cursing her name, swearing revenge, he held his pained shoulder, apparently unable to move from his sitting position. Blood seeped from his wound.

Emma felt she would be sick; she gagged her bile down. With shaking hands, scented with gunpowder, she laid the gun on the bed. Woody stirred on her lap; her fingers combed his hair gently. She investigated the lump on his forehead trickling with blood. He looked up at her with squinted eyes and smiled weakly.

At that moment, there was a crash in the living room, "Woody?" A female screamed. She burst into the bedroom; Emma could not tell whether Jordan was more disturbed by Archie Dalton's broken body in the corner or a half-naked Emma crying over Woody.

"Hoyt, chief wants to talk to you," Matt said, from the bedroom threshold. The chief was on his cell phone. Woody excused himself, leaving Emma and Jordan in the same room.

They sat in silence for a while before Jordan said, "That was some smooth talking you did back there."

"Thanks," she answered simply.

An awkward silence followed. They both felt like the 'other girl' who lusts after the same man, constantly unsure of which one is on his mind.

"Listen, Jordan," Emma finally said; if there was one thing she had learned from Woody this week, it was the courage to say what was on her mind, "what Woody and I have, it's nothing. I'm going home and I'll probably never come back. So if you're thinking—"

"Wow, are you ever immature," Jordan said before Emma had a chance to finish. Emma did not say anything. She, instead, let Jordan continue, "You're just going to leave him like that. That entire 'starting a new life' thing, was that all bull?"

"Never mind, I can see that he doesn't really deserve you anyway."

"But he deserves you?" Jordan mumbled under her breath. She approached Emma and with a look of utter disgust said, "Remember to tell me the next time you're in Boston so that I can stay away from you, and the men you touch."

Emma looked away, unbelieving that the woman who had saved her life could be so hostile toward her. She supposed that she deserved it though. What she felt for Woody was not the same as what he felt for her, she knew it. It would break his heart, but she would never speak to him again.