"Already done!" someone else said from nearby, making Ben vaguely aware that a small crowd was starting to form around Christine on the sidewalk.
"Stay with me, sweetheart. You're going to be just fine." It wasn't a promise he had the right to make, but he refused to think differently.
She glanced up at him with pain-filled eyes, then opened her mouth to speak, but only a croak of sound escaped her.
"Don't talk," he said softly, though his own voice shook with fear. "You've been shot." Twice. But that wasn't something she needed to know or hear at the moment.
Because one of the bullets had hit her so close to the stomach, which could prove to be a life-threatening injury if she bled out, he knew he had to staunch the flow of blood until medical help arrived. With hands that were less than steady, he managed to unbutton her blouse and pull it away from the right side of her waist. He gently ran his fingers over the spot that was covered in bright red blood, searching for a wound… but couldn't find one.
What the hell?
Christine winced and moaned as he probed the welt forming on her skin, assuring him that she had been struck with something. Frowning in confusion, he pulled his hand away and rubbed the thick, sticky substance between his fingers. It didn't feel thin and slick like fresh blood, and as he took a whiff of the wetness on his fingers, he inhaled the distinct chemical scent of paint.
Un-fucking-believable. Jason had shot her with a paintball gun, not a real, authentic assault rifle. The relief that poured through Ben was so profound, he felt a well of emotion rise up into his throat and he dropped his head forward to give himself a private moment to gather his composure. Other than being sore and bruised, she was going to be okay.
He exhaled a deep breath and met Christine's gaze. "Jason shot you with a paintball gun," he said once he was back in control again.
Her eyes flashed with fire and anger, letting Ben know that she really was okay. "It hurts."
"It'll definitely hurt like hell for a while and you'll be bruised in those areas, but there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage. But I'm still going to have you checked out just to make sure." He grabbed her hand and gently pulled her upright. "Come on, let's get you back into your office until the paramedics and police arrive."
He helped her up the rest of the way, wrapped an arm around her waist, and led her back to The Big Event. Madison grabbed Christine's purse and briefcase, along with Ben's computer bag, and just as they stepped back into the reception area, the sound of multiple sirens in the distance grew louder, until an ambulance and two squad cars arrived.
Moments later, the paramedics were hovering over Christine by the couch, taking her vitals and checking the welts on her abdomen and shoulder. Three police officers took Ben aside, and after he explained what had happened, and who had assaulted Christine, two of the policemen went back outside to take statements from the people who'd witnessed the attack.
The officer who'd stayed behind assured Ben that there would be an immediate warrant issued for Jason's arrest. Combined with his recent transgressions against Christine, Ben knew that there would be no chance of bail for Jason this time around, and that he was looking at some serious jail time down the road for this latest attack and for breaking the terms of the restraining order once again.
Knowing that Jason would be behind bars for a while was fine with Ben. Between his blackmail attempts toward Nathan Delacroix and his aggression toward Christine, the man was a menace and a threat and needed some serious help.
Ben was just glad to know that once Jason was arrested, Christine would be safe on her own again.
BUNDLED up in her favorite fleece robe and hands wrapped around a warm mug of chamomile tea, Christine glanced over at Ben, who was sitting in the single chair in her living room, which was too far away from where she sat, as they listened to the evening news speculate on the outcome of tomorrow's election.
Ever since they'd arrived back home after the paramedics had released her and the police had finished questioning her about Jason, Ben had been quiet and even a bit distant. After making a call to her parents to give them the latest news and reassuring them that she truly was okay, she and Ben had eaten dinner, and she'd taken a long, hot shower to help ease the soreness in her shoulder and abdomen where bruises were already forming. Then they'd settled in the living room to watch a few shows together, and any attempt at conversation with Ben resulted in a go-nowhere kind of answer from him.
It was frustrating and aggravating, and she was pretty certain she knew where his isolated mood was stemming from. Now that she was privy to what had happened to Kim, and how Ben blamed himself for not being able to keep her safe, she had a feeling that he was berating himself for letting Jason get close enough to hurt her.
And that mentality of Ben's frustrated the heck out of her. "What happened today wasn't your fault," she said, figuring they were better off getting it all out in the open, instead of letting him stew on it all night long.
He glanced at her, his eyes revealing nothing. "I know that. I didn't pull the trigger on that paintball gun."
There was the slightest edge of sarcasm to his voice, which she didn't appreciate. "Let me rephrase my comment. It wasn't your fault that you weren't able to get me out of the way before Jason shot me."
His jaw clenched. "I'm your bodyguard, Christine. My job is to protect you at all costs. I should have taken both of those shots for you. What if it had been a bullet instead of just paint in that rifle?"
"There are no 'what ifs,' Ben," she said, her annoyance mounting. "It wasn't a bullet. I'm okay. You're good at what you do, but shit happens sometimes."
He had no reply to that. Instead he rubbed at his forehead, looking tired and weary. "The good news is, the police have Jason back in custody, so at least that's one less thing for you to worry about."
She took a sip of her tea, letting it warm her all the way down to her belly. "You really think he was the one behind the threats and blackmail attempts toward my father?"
"He had every motive," Ben said confidently. "He had an irrational grudge against you, and he obviously wanted to ruin your father's chance at winning the election since your dad killed Jason's political career-not that Jason didn't deserve to be ostracized for embezzling campaign funds. Hopefully, they'll nail his ass and he'll be spending enough time in prison to sober him up and make him reassess the direction of his life."
"Yeah, that would be nice," she agreed, and finished off her tea. "By the way, I think I'm going to take it easy tomorrow and work from home after I go out and vote. My shoulder and stomach feel really tender, and I'd rather be here for the day than at the office."
He nodded. "That's a good idea."
Exhausted after the day she'd had, she stood up and took her empty mug to the kitchen, then returned to the living room, switching off lights as she went.
"Are you ready to call it a night?" she asked Ben.
He looked at her, his gaze uncertain, and still way too withdrawn. "I really don't think it's a good idea for us to do anything tonight."
She rolled her eyes. "The last thing on my mind right now is sex," she fibbed, knowing she could be persuaded very easily when it came to Ben. "I want to go to bed andsleep. With you. I promise not to take advantage of you in any way whatsoever, if that's what you're worried about."
That prompted a smile to quirk the corners of his mouth. "Now that's a relief," he teased, a semblance of his old self emerging once again. Standing, he took her hand and led the way back to her bedroom.