Dante screamed and gestured toward the man. “Lyons, go stop that man.”
He dropped to his knees and looked at his wife. She lay on her side, pale, with blood seeping on the ground from underneath her. “Lydia.” He placed his hand under her shoulders and gently pulled her forward. She groaned, and he was never so glad to hear that sound. At least she wasn’t dead.
He looked up. “Please move back so I can attend my wife. Will someone summon a hackney?”
“I will, sir.” A lad of about fifteen years spoke up.
“Thank you.”
Dante winced as he looked over her shoulder to see a large knife sticking out of her back, blood seeping from the wound. He felt his own blood leave his face and settle somewhere near his feet. He knew better than to try to remove the weapon since that would increase the blood flow. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
Lydia’s eyelids flicked open and she licked her lips. “Yes. I have a terrible pain in my back.”
Thinking it was not a good idea to tell her about the knife, he eased her close to him and spoke into her ear. “You’ve been injured. I’m taking you to hospital.”
Just then a Bobbie broke into the crowd. “Say, what’s going on here? The young man outside said someone got hurt.”
Dante looked up at the large man in a uniform of the London Metropolitan Police. “My wife has been injured. I need to get her to hospital. The young man just offered to summon a hackney.”
The man nodded. “Lucky for you an ambulance was just returning to hospital after taking someone home.” He looked around and extended his arms. “Everyone move back, please.”
“Sweetheart, I’m going to have to shift you a tiny bit to lift you into my arms.”
Lydia nodded and bit on her lip as he placed his other arm under her knees. This was the most dangerous part. If he shifted her so the knife penetrated her lung she would be dead before they reached the ambulance.
“Wait!” The young lad raced up. “The ambulance driver is bringing a stretcher.”
Thank you, Lord. Lydia was growing weaker by the second. “I appreciate your help, young man.”
“Dante,” she whispered and took his hand. “I don’t want to die.”
He gritted his teeth, his stomach in knots. “You will not die. Do not even think that. The men with a stretcher are almost here. Soon you will be in hospital, and all will be well. I promise you.” He knew his words were abrupt and curt, but he was hanging onto his own sanity by a thin thread.
Not necessarily a praying man, Dante prayed with all his heart for his wife to survive and for forgiveness for promising her she would not die. He had very little experience with knife wounds, but this one didn’t look good. He pushed those thoughts from his mind, or he would howl like a broken animal.
“Move back, please,” the Bobbie said again. “Make room.”
Slowly the gathering shuffled back, still gaping with morbid curiosity. Two men laid the stretcher on the ground next to Lydia.
“You will have to place her face first. She has an injury on her back.” Dante hated releasing her, feeling as though as long as he held her he could keep her from dying.
The men nodded and with more gentleness than what he’d expected they moved her and placed her on the stretcher. A few gasps came from the crowd at the sight of the large knife sticking out of her back. Dante placed his hands on the floor, fighting the dizziness that tried to overtake him at the sight.
“Easy, lass, we’ll have you in hospital in no time.” One of the burly men holding the stretcher was a large Scot with long red flowing hair. He threw a blanket over her and then the two men lifted the stretcher. With a soft groan from Lydia, Dante was fairly certain that she’d passed out, which was good.
He climbed into the ambulance with her and placed his finger on her neck. A slight pulse, but nevertheless, he felt it. During the short ride, which did seem to take forever, he had time to reflect. There was no doubt in his mind that this was attempted murder. Had they been standing together at the time, most likely the two of them would have been stabbed. Hopef
ully, Lyons had been able to catch the man and drag him to the police station for questioning. They could hardly call this an accident.
Lydia remained unconscious the entire ride and then when she was carried into hospital. A doctor was summoned and quickly ordered Lydia to an operating room.
“What happened?” the doctor asked as he and Dante followed the stretcher down a long corridor. The man oozed confidence. He was middle aged with silver streaks in his black hair. Just his presence was calming.
Dante ran his fingers through his hair. “Since I assume you see the knife sticking out from her back, that much you know. I can’t give you more information for security purposes, but I am quite certain my wife was stabbed by a man—probably hired by another man—who has already killed two people.”
The doctor merely shook his head. “I don’t know what this world is coming to.”
Once they reached a set of double doors, the doctor turned to him. “I will leave you here. When I am finished, I will meet you in the waiting room back down this corridor on the right-hand side.”