TWENTY-SEVEN

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Nick ran through the darkened, empty halls, heading for Abby's office. He stumbled into a machine, twisting his ankle. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself to keep going. Two doors away from the room the deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the building.

No—he couldn't be too late! He slammed his shoulder into the door and it flew open. In the darkness someone moved. He leapt toward the shadowed figure. As he wrestled the person to the floor, the gun exploded again, and a slicing pain pierced Nick's left side.

In the dark, he fumbled to find the weapon. When his fingers closed around the hot steel, he yanked it out of the killer's hands. The woman screamed and wrestled under him, but he held her tight.

Warm, sticky blood flowed from Nick's side, saturating his shirt and vest. Trying to ignore the pain, he threw the gun across the room and pinned the woman's hands above her head.

"Let me go!" she yelled.

"You killed Abby!" His voice broke as he said her name.

"Good! That was my intent," Cassandra snapped. "She deserves to die. I'm the one who should get our father's inheritance, since I was the one he ignored all my life."

Nick grasped her shoulders and shook her until her head knocked hard against the floor. Suddenly, on the other side of the room, footsteps creaked on the floor. Within seconds the light in the room flickered on.

Abby stood facing him, her white knuckles pressed against her mouth. "Nick?"

He released Cassandra and scrambled to his feet. His head spun in circles, and his body grew weaker by the second. As he stumbled toward Abby, she dropped her gaze to his left side. Her eyes went wide and she sobbed.

"It's okay," he whispered, gathering her in his arms. "It's just a flesh wound, really." It hurt unlike anything he'd felt before, but he wasn't going to let her worry.

Cassandra jumped to her feet and ran toward the door. Abby tore away from Nick and beat the young woman to the door.

"I think not, dear sister," Abby growled just before she punched Cassandra in the face.

A crack rent the air, and the woman landed on the floor in a motionless heap.

Nick sighed and leaned against the desk. His head swam, and the dizziness reminded him of how he'd felt just before he traveled through time. Did this mean he was going back? No! He couldn't. He couldn't leave the woman he loved.

Abby rushed to him again and grabbed him, holding him up. "Nick, you're losing a lot of blood. I don't know what to do."

"Lay me down," Nick instructed. She helped him to the floor. "Take off my shirt," he said. He assisted as much as he could in removing the garment, each movement bringing new agony. "Now wad up the material into a ball and press it hard against the wound. It'll stop the flow of blood."

Tears pooled in Abby's eyes and she nodded. Her arms shook, but she managed to press on the wound. The pain intensified and Nick cringed, praying he wouldn't pass out. As long as he stayed alert, he might stay in the past with her. If not...would he return to his time?

She looked away from him and glanced around the room, before jumping to her feet and darting to the bookshelf. From between two books, she pulled out a bottle of bourbon. When she reached his side again, she lifted his head and brought the bottle to his lips.

"This might dull the pain slightly."

"No, no. I...I don't drink. Besides, I'll be fine."

Abby sighed, and then moved the shirt so she could pour the liquid on his wound.

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