And that pissed him off even more. He was fuming, his fingers curling into tight fists because he didn’t want to chance touching her and hurting her.

She hadn’t said she was afraid she’d die. No, her only concern had been for the rest of them. He had enough panic for her for them both but damn it, if he couldn’t instill that same vehemence when it came to her own life, how the hell was he supposed to make her start caring for herself?

In the distance sirens wailed, drawing closer and closer until they screamed in Caleb’s ears. He remained on his knees, surveying the damage in an attempt to make sure everyone was accounted for.

The two detectives had taken the lead going into the trailer while Caleb’s men had fallen behind Ramie. To his relief he saw Detective Ramirez bending over one of his fallen police officers but then his blood chilled when he realized the man Ramirez was tending to wasn’t moving.

“Ramirez!” Caleb shouted. “He okay over there?”

“He’s breathing,” Ramirez called back in a pissed-off voice. “Unconscious and bleeding like a stuck pig. He was impaled by debris.”

Caleb swore, his fury mounting with every passing second. Medics from three ambulances swarmed the area while multiple police cars screeched to a stop a short distance away.

“Caleb, how is she?” Eliza demanded as she crouched down next to him.

“I’m okay,” Ramie said weakly. “My head hurts like hell though.”

Eliza’s eyes swam with concern. “Did something hit you? Or did you hit it going down?”

“She wasn’t hit,” Caleb said through clenched teeth. “She damn near gave herself a stroke fighting to pick up the image of the bomb underneath the crap he wanted her to see.”

“So that’s how you knew,” Eliza murmured. “I saw your nose start to bleed, but I didn’t know if that was normal or not.”

“It didn’t used to be,” Ramie said drowsily.

“Baby, stay awake,” Caleb said in alarm.

He exchanged worried glances with Eliza, whose sharp gaze was already scanning Ramie.

“Kind of hard to sleep when your head hurts this bad,” she mumbled.

Caleb lifted his head up, looking quickly for an available medic. He was starting to get extremely worried. Ramie needed medical attention regardless of whether she thought so or not.

“You know they’ll just think I’m crazy if you take me in and explain how and why my nose bled and my head hurts,” she said dryly.

“There is that,” Eliza muttered.

“No way am I not bringing her in just because she’ll have to explain why her head hurts,” Caleb snapped. “They don’t have to know she didn’t hurt her head in the explosion. How do we know she didn’t?”

Eliza held her hands up. “I’m not arguing. That’s between you and her. Certainly wouldn’t hurt to get her a prescription for those headaches after the one she had earlier.”

He hated the idea that she suffered at all. And the idea that until now no one had ever been there to care for her when she suffered was more than he could stand.

“It’s not normal for a headache to cause nosebleeds,” he said fiercely. “What if she has a brain bleed? With the kind of pain she was describing and the mental strain she was under, it certainly seems possible.”

Eliza shrugged and then stood, motioning for one of the medics.

“Guess the best way to know is to bring her in and get her head checked out,” Eliza said.

“Traitor,” Ramie grumbled.

For some reason, that slight complaint completely unraveled Caleb. Maybe it was the fact that she was injecting levity in a situation fraught with turmoil. Whatever the case, his behind slumped downward to rest on the backs of his legs and he found his strength gone.

The adrenaline that had given him superhuman strength and focus just moments before was over in an instant and he felt too old and weary to even push himself to his feet.

Even after Ramie had been placed on a backboard and boosted upward to one of the stretchers, he remained where he was, hands shaking.

“Come on, I’ll help you up,” Eliza said, her voice gentle. “You’ll need to go to the hospital with Ramie.”

Caleb lifted his gaze to Eliza’s, his gut churning so much he worried he’d end up being sick all over the ground.

“She almost died,” he whispered.

“We all almost died,” Eliza amended. “But we didn’t. Ramie warned us quickly enough.”

“Caleb? Where are you?”

Ramie’s worried question spurred him to action. He allowed Eliza to give him a hand up so he didn’t embarrass himself by face-planting on the ground. Then he went to the stretcher and leaned over to kiss Ramie on the forehead.

“I’m right here, baby. Now let’s get you to the hospital so I know that you’re truly all right.”

TWENTY-NINE

BY the time Ramie was discharged from the ER, a battery of tests run to ensure she had no serious injury, including a CT of her head at Caleb’s insistence, she was exhausted and feeling the aftershocks of the bomb blast.

The only injuries she sustained were bruising and a feeling of being hit by a train. She was sore and stiff, every muscle protesting the slightest movement.

Caleb stopped by a twenty-four-hour pharmacy to have her prescriptions filled since it was an obscene hour of the morning the next day, and Ramie figured he had likely scared the poor pharmacist to death with his appearance because the script was filled in a matter of minutes.