ANGEL SHOVED HIMSELF into a sitting position and leaned against the wall, holding his hand against the bleeding hole in his chest. He was lucky Randolph was a terrible shot, or he’d already be dead. As it was, the way he was bleeding, he figured he’d be dead soon enough. He needed to press something against the wound to stop the bleeding.
Cilla was crying again. The sound of gunfire had woken her and Randolph screaming at her to shut up hadn’t helped. In desperation, the assistant shoved the child back into Juliana’s arms and the nanny was at least able to transform the child’s screaming to hiccupping sobs. Angel noted that Juliana had moved as far away from Randolph as she could, turning away to put herself between the gun and the child. The position put her in direct line of sight with
