36

MAGGIE STARED IN HORROR as Adam crumpled to the ground. Behind him, gun in hand, Neill rushed toward her. She didn’t care if he pulled the trigger. If Adam died, she wanted to die, as well.

Maggie dropped to her knees beside Adam’s body. She pulled the shawl off her head, wadded it into a ball, and pressed it against Adam’s wound.

Shouts and footfalls drifted toward her, as though coming from a great distance. She looked over in time to see a burly dockworker swing at Neill with a club. Neill raised a hand to ward off the blow and the gun flew across the ground.

“Somebody get help!” Her shout seemed too weak to garner attention, yet she heard others take up her plea.

“Get a doctor.”

“Call for the ambulance. A man’s been shot!”

Around her, snatches of conversation and shouts from onlookers buzzed in the background of her consciousness. Her sole focus remained on keeping Adam alive. From his shallow breathing, she determined he hadn’t left her—yet.

When Maggie glanced up again, a familiar face came into view, one that brought a rush of emotion to her throat. She waved her free arm.

Winded, Rylan rushed over and crouched beside her. “Maggie! Are you all right?”

“Aye, but Adam’s been shot.” Her voice broke on a sob.

“The steward has called for an ambulance. They’ll be here soon.”

A tear fell from her chin and landed on Adam’s neck, sliding down to his collar. “Hang on, Adam. Help is coming.”

Please God, don’t let him die.

Rylan pried her cold, stiff fingers away from the blood-soaked shawl. “Let me take over.”

She conceded, realizing he could apply better pressure than she. She laid a stained hand on Adam’s cheek, silently willing him to live. Beneath his beard, his face had turned a deathly shade of gray. Just when Maggie thought she’d go mad, a murmur went through the crowd of onlookers, and two men came forward carrying a stretcher.

They moved Adam onto it with Rylan still pressing the wound. Together, they rose as one and made their way to the horse-drawn ambulance waiting at the foot of the docks.

Clutching her skirts, Maggie followed, standing helplessly by while they loaded Adam into the back of the vehicle. She went to climb in after them, but one of the men stopped her.

“I’m sorry, miss. You’ll have to find your own way to the hospital.”

Maggie’s temper flared. “I’m going with him. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t bleed to death on the ride.”

The second man had taken over from Rylan, holding Maggie’s shawl to staunch the blood flow.

“Fred will do that, miss. Now we’d best be on our way. The sooner the doctor sees him, the better chance he’ll have.”

Rylan gently pulled her back so the men could close the gate at the back of the wagon.

“Come on, love. We’ll find a way there.”

“Not yet, sir. I’m afraid I need the young lady to come with me.” A police officer stepped out of the crowd. “I’m Officer O’Brien of the New York Constabulary. I understand you witnessed the shooting.”

Maggie only nodded. Her attention remained fixated on the ambulance as it pulled away. Fear wrenched her heart, turning and twisting in her chest. Would she ever see Adam alive again? She pressed a fist to her mouth to keep from sobbing.

Rylan’s arm came around her shoulders. “My sister was kidnapped by the man who shot Mr. O’Leary.”

The officer pulled out a notebook. “Then the sooner you provide us with the information, the sooner you can get to the hospital.”

Now that the excitement was over, the crowd dissipated. The dock workers returned to loading barrels onto the cargo ships. A few stragglers murmured to themselves about the dangerous people trying to get passage.

A type of numbness invaded Maggie’s limbs, spreading through her body. The ambulance had moved out of her sight. She couldn’t do anything for Adam right now except help to catch the man who’d harmed him. She sucked in a long breath. “Will you provide us a ride to the hospital when we’re finished?”

The officer nodded. “Agreed.”

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The cold light of dawn crept through the window in the hospital waiting room where Maggie stood, staring out. She’d hoped the coming of morning would erase the bleakness from her soul, but the light did little to ease her fears. She’d spent most of the night pacing the room, unable to rest. Each time she closed her eyes, all she could envision was Adam’s lifeless face as the ambulance took him away.

After she’d given all the information she could to the constable, he had kept his word and driven her and Rylan to the hospital. Partway through the night, she’d sent Rylan home, insisting that Colleen would be frantic and that Maggie would be fine on her own. Adam had been taken into surgery, leaving her with nothing to do but wait . . . and pray.

Pray that Neill hadn’t killed him.

A sob caught in her throat, but she pushed it back. She had to stay strong. If Adam made it through the operation, he would need her strength to help him recover.

Maggie stared at her discolored hands clasped on her lap. She hadn’t wanted to wash away that last contact with Adam—the visible reminder of his sacrifice, of the precious blood he’d spilled for her. Adam had lost everything—his shop, his dream for the future, perhaps his very life—all because of her. She’d brought nothing but disaster to the man she loved.

In the stillness of the empty room, Maggie fought to hold on to her faith. To feel that God cared what happened to her and to Adam. That He had everything under control.

Where are You, Lord? I need You. Adam needs You.

Only a hollow echo of footsteps in the corridor broke the silence.

Unable to stand her own thoughts any longer, Maggie left the waiting room and walked out to the nearest nurses’ area.

A woman raised her head from the sheet of paper where she was recording some information. “May I help you?”

“Could you tell me how Adam O’Leary is doing? He went in for surgery hours ago.”

The plump, motherly-looking woman scanned Maggie’s face and clothing, halting at her blood-stained hands. “Are you a relative, dear?”

Maggie nodded, hoping the woman didn’t ask her to explain their relationship. She didn’t know if any of the other O’Learys had been informed of the shooting, and if so, whether anyone would come. Colleen would likely arrive soon, but Maggie couldn’t wait any longer to find out if Adam was alive.

“Just a moment,” the nurse said, “and I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Exhaustion tugged at Maggie’s limbs, attempting to pull her down. If she didn’t keep moving, she feared she would collapse. She paced the long hallway, trying to ignore the strong medicinal scents that hovered in the air. Several minutes later, the woman returned with a doctor in tow.

“This is Dr. Plimpton. He can tell you about Mr. O’Leary.”

The doctor stepped forward and peered at her over his spectacles. “Are you Mrs. O’Leary?”

Maggie wet her dry lips. “No. I’m related . . . by marriage.”

“I see.” He frowned but let out a sigh. “Mr. O’Leary survived the surgery. The bullet went clean through his left shoulder. Luckily it missed hitting anything vital. It was a tricky procedure, but we feel we were successful in repairing the damage.”

“Will he be okay?”

“It’s too soon to say for certain, especially given the extreme amount of blood loss. But we are cautiously hopeful.”

Maggie’s legs wobbled like a marionette whose strings had suddenly loosened. “May I see him?”

The man gave her a concerned look. “For now I’ve restricted him to no visitors. He needs complete rest. However, you may check back later in the day to see if his status has changed.” He looked pointedly at her tarnished hands. “In the meantime, I’d suggest you go home and get some rest yourself, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she whispered.

He gave a nod and continued down the hall, leaving Maggie a quivering mass of relief and despair.

Adam had made it through the night. God willing, he’d make it through the day.

Adam struggled to fight his way to the surface through murky water. He must have fallen from the docks into the river. His limbs seemed confined, as though tied down, impeding his effort to move. He took in a long breath and coughed, his throat raw and aching. When he attempted to sit up, searing heat shot through his chest, forcing him down.

Where was he? He blinked, trying to focus his vision.

“Easy does it, Mr. O’Leary.” The syrupy female voice jolted Adam.

He glanced to the right and saw a large-boned woman bending over him, a white nurse’s cap pinned to her head. He must be in the hospital—again.

White-hot pain shot through his upper torso, bringing the events of the night rushing back.

Maggie! Had Neill spirited her away once he’d gotten rid of Adam?

A gray-haired man in a white coat entered the room. “Hold on there, son. Don’t be undoing all our hard work.”

Adam winced, furious at not being able to rise. “Is anyone asking for me?”

The doctor ignored his question until he’d lifted the sheet, poking and prodding the gauze on Adam’s chest. “Good. The bleeding hasn’t started again. Try not to move unless absolutely necessary. And then wait for the nurse to assist you.”

Grinding his teeth together to fight the pain, Adam shot out a hand to grasp the doctor’s sleeve. “Maggie . . .” He wheezed, trying to get air.

The doctor disengaged his arm. “A woman has been asking about you. I’ll see if she’s still here.”

When he left, the nurse continued to fuss around him and administered a dose of laudanum. Adam swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste. He wanted to bark at her to leave him in peace, but his eyes drifted closed.

When he opened them again, Maggie’s face filled his vision, concern and sorrow flitting over her features. A burst of relief coursed through his body. She hadn’t left for Ireland with that madman.

“Maggie.” He tried to raise a hand to touch her, but the effort proved too great.

She grasped his hand and held it to her cheek.

“You’re . . . all . . . right?” The effort to speak left him weaker than a newborn.

“Yes. But don’t talk or the doctor will make me leave.” She pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Fitzgerald?” he managed to wheeze out.

“The police caught him. He’ll be going to jail for what he did to you.” She laid a hand on his arm, its warmth penetrating the sheet that covered him. “I’m so sorry, Adam. For the fire, the shooting—all the terrible things that have happened because of me.” Her voice cracked.

“Not . . . your . . . fault.”

“Aye, it is my fault. I’ve brought you nothing but harm since we met.” Tears flowed freely, bathing her beloved face.

Adam wished he had the strength to wipe them away. “Not true.” His lids drooped as the medicine took effect. “Safe now, Maggie.”

Her fingers squeezed his. “Aye, I’m safe, and so are you. Rest now and get your strength back.”

“Stay.” He felt himself drifting.

“I’ll be right here when you wake.”