Rewarded by Jo Davis

his brow.
    “Are you—Gray, you’re bleeding!” Her hands shoved at his jacket, and she gasped. “You’ve been shot! We need an ambulance.”
    “He took that bullet for me,” Delacruz said, moving close. “You saved my life, twice. Thank you, Gray. I won’t forget that.”
    Gray. Not Sloane.
The distinction wasn’t lost on him, even through the buzzing in his head.
    “You’re welcome, Joaquin.”
    He vaguely heard his backup arrive—too late. When he saw Simon’s worried face hovering beside Anna’s, he couldn’t help but snort. “Thanks for the help, asshole.”
    “Looks like you had it under control,” his partner deadpanned. But Gray could hear the concern in his voice.
    Then everything faded and he heard nothing at all.
    ***
    Gray lost consciousness, and Anna shook him. “Gray? Honey, stay awake!”
    “He’ll be okay,” Simon told her. “Shoulder wound won’t be too bad.”
    “He’s bleeding and unconscious. That’s
not
okay.”
    “I promise he’ll be all right.”
    The paramedics arrived and began to work on him, starting an IV. While they worked, Anna looked to Joaquin. “What about you? Let me see your hands.”
    “They’re okay.” He tried to hide them, but she pulled them out to inspect his palms. They were a real mess, as was his abdomen, sliced deep and bleeding everywhere. He was going to need stitches, if she had her guess.
    “I’m so glad you’re all right. When I thought you’d fallen . . .” She shuddered, never wanting to relive that again.
    “I’m glad I am, too. And that you cared.”
    “Of course I do. I always will.”
    He smiled. “Me too.”
    Another pair of paramedics arrived and got busy looking at Joaquin’s hands. The first pair wouldn’t let her ride in the ambulance with Gray, so Simon offered to drive her to the hospital.
    She kissed Gray on the forehead. “I love you.” Maybe he heard. She hoped so.
    Joaquin left with the second pair. Taking her arm, Simon guided her to where his SUV was waiting next to the curb. They rode in silence, except for when he made a comment here and there. Mostly to repeat that Gray would be fine. And to exclaim that he’d never made “Petrov” as a fellow agent. He speculated aloud that the man would need some mandatory counseling after being deep undercover for so long.
    At the hospital, Anna found some chairs, and she and Simon settled in for the wait. Other patients and visitors came and went, but she was hardly aware of their problems when the man she loved was in surgery. Eventually, however, she realized that Joaquin had sat down next to her. He had heavy bandages around both hands and she assumed around his torso as well, from the bulk under his tattered, bloodied shirt. She turned and hugged him.
    “Don’t scare me like that again, all right?” She didn’t have to elaborate.
    “Don’t worry. I’ve made my last appearance as Spider-Man.”
    She and Simon laughed at his terrible joke. It was better than crying over what had almost happened.
    It seemed like forever before a doctor in scrubs came out. “Family of Grayson Sloane?”
    “That’s us,” Simon told him, taking out his badge. “Or as close as you’ll get, anyway. Agent King, FBI. How’s my partner?”
    The doctor hesitated, but in the end the FBI’s clout was enough to sway him. “Agent Sloane came through the surgery just fine.”
    Anna almost fainted. Joaquin’s hand on her back kept her from falling.
    “I removed the bullet from his shoulder,” the doctor continued. “Nothing but muscle damage, no major organs hit, I’m happy to report. With rest and then some physical therapy on his arm and shoulder, he’ll make a complete recovery.”
    “That’s the best fucking news I’ve heard all day.” Simon clapped the doctor on the shoulder. “I hope to hell my partner has used up his quota of being shot.”
    Anna winced at the mention of that nightmare, the horrible memories. “When can we see him?”
    “He’s in recovery, so