Wicked Good (The Billionaire's Fake Finace 3)

My ears rang, and my hand shook as I reached down and pressed two fingers to Madden’s neck.

His skin felt warm but clammy and there was a heartbeat.

Carefully I rolled Madden off the smaller man and onto his back. Madden’s breath was shallow and his eyelids flickered open and closed. His jacket was now soaked with blood.

He needed help or I was afraid he’d die. I had no experience with this sort of thing and the only thing I could think to do was put pressure on the wound like they always did on TV.

I pulled off my cardigan and balled it up, then pushed his jacket aside and set it over his blood soaked shirt. He grunted but his eyes didn’t open. I gingerly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket where I knew he kept his phone. My fingers were coated red when I pulled it out and I wiped them across his jacket while trying not to vomit.

“911, what’s your emergency?” a female voice asked.

“There’s been a stabbing. I think he’s dying,” I babbled. “We need an ambulance. Oh god…there’s blood everywhere. He won’t stop bleeding.”

Madden finally opened his eyes and groaned. “No police,” he murmured before his eyelids fluttered closed. My heart leaped into my throat and I pushed two fingers against his neck again. There was still a pulse.

“Ma’am, what’s your address?” the woman asked.

I froze. Panic built inside me. I had no idea where I was.

“I...I don’t know.” What if Madden died because I didn’t know where he lived? A frustrated sob broke from between my lips. “I don’t know.”

“Do you see a landmark or a street sign?” she asked.

“I’m inside...a house. His house, the man who was stabbed.”

“Does he have ID on him?” she asked calmly. “Something with his address? A driver's license?”

I fumbled inside his pocket again until I found his wallet. Once more blood coated my hand when I pulled it free and lights danced in my eyes. I sucked in several gulps of air. If I fainted, Madden could die.

There were a dozen credit cards and a thick fold of cash inside, but I ignored it all and fished out his license. In his DMV photo, his lips were quirked up in a smirk and my stomach tightened. What if I never saw that arrogant as**s smile again?

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Ma’am? Are you still on the line?” the calm voice asked.

“It’s...552 Hemlock Grove,” I said quickly.

“Perfect. I’m sending an ambulance now. Is there anyone else who’s hurt?” she asked.

I looked at the two men lying unmoving on the floor next to Madden. God what if they were dead? What if Madden killed them? It was self-defense. They attacked him. If I had to I’d testify to that.

“Yes, there are two others. Men. They attacked my…my fiancé…with a knife and he fought them off, and they’re not moving.”

“Help will be there in just a minute. You’re doing fine Ms…”

“Kinsey. Skylar Kinsey,” I murmured. I reached out and took Madden’s hand. His skin felt clammy. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

“Okay Ms. Kinsey, the police have now arrived. You should see them any second.”

As if on cue, two uniformed men came through the door.

“They’re here,” I said.

“I’m going to hang up now and they’ll take care of everything. You did great.”

“Thank you.” I set the phone down and leaned in close to Madden’s ear but he was no longer responding.

“Help is here. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

But as I said the words, I wondered if it was really true. I wondered if anything would ever be okay again.

Chapter Two

Twelve hours later, Madden stood at the nurse’s station in a pair of jeans and a loose button-down shirt, arguing with the doctor about going home.

I still couldn’t believe he was alive, let alone standing and arguing with anyone about anything. How Madden had come through the violence and horror relatively unscathed was a miracle.

Only he didn’t seem to see it that way.

His face was drawn and pale and he gripped the edge of the counter with white knuckles. They’d sewn him up and given him pain medication, and I could see it in the long blinks he took.

“I’m going home, with or without your consent. You’ve done your damned job so go help someone else now,” Madden said between gritted teeth.

“I am recommending against it,” Doctor Henries said. His eyebrows were drawn down and he was frowning at Madden. “There was no damage to internal organs, but you were stabbed, Mr. Cross, and we would like to keep you under observation for a full twenty four hours.”