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“What?” He frowned over at her, both at the oddity of her question and the way her voice sounded like she was in a daze.
She gestured to her feet, and he looked down, realizing she was talking about the bottle of champagne on his floorboard, which was still miraculously unbroken.
“That was for you,” he replied, seeing her confusion before he yanked his attention back onto the road and drove as fast as he could through the surface streets toward the freeway.
“For me?”
“Put pressure on your wound,” he said, instead of explaining that he’d gotten it to celebrate her returning to work.
He risked a glance at her as her head dropped forward. As if she’d just realized how much blood there was, she pressed both hands down frantically against her leg.
She was coming out of her shock. He’d seen enough shooting victims to know what was coming next: panic.
He tried to stave it off as he merged onto the freeway and punched it up to ninety. “We’ll be at the hospital in three minutes,” he promised, keeping his tone calm despite the fear he felt. “You’re fine. It’s a flesh wound. I know it looks like a lot, but the bullet went through and you haven’t lost enough blood for it to be a problem.”
He’d seen enough bullet wounds to know when they were life threatening. But he’d also seen enough to know that sometimes they surprised you. He’d seen people operate on adrenaline, actually getting up and running, when their injuries said they should already be dead. And he’d seen minor wounds turn fatal.
Not for Shaye, he promised himself, speeding off the freeway. A few more too-fast turns and then he made an illegal turn into the hospital parking lot and slammed to a stop. He tossed his key at the valet and ran around the other side to open Shaye’s door.
An orderly was coming their way with a wheelchair, but Cole ignored him, reaching in to lift Shaye himself. If it was possible, she looked even more pale and terrified, reminding him of that day almost exactly a year ago and the drive-by at the station. Shaye had been caught in the middle of it all.
“Why does this keep happening?” she whispered, then promptly passed out.
Chapter Two (#u7ad02723-41b0-5f69-a36f-b1bc725b0b43)
Shaye woke in a hospital bed, a warm blanket pulled up to her chin and a frowning nurse strapping a blood pressure cuff to her arm.
“How are you feeling?”
She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Shaye turned her head, and there was Cole, perched at the edge of a chair next to her bed, his reddish-blond hair rumpled and concern etched onto his normally laid-back expression.
Embarrassment heated her. Had she actually fainted?
Okay, yes, she was a lab rat, and gun battles—except for the gang shooting that still gave her nightmares—were way outside her experience. But she’d managed to make a run for that second car, hiding until Cole had magically arrived. She’d managed to stay relatively cool until they’d made it safely to the hospital.
Yet she’d fainted in front of Jannis’s best detective, the guy who’d led the charge to bring down the entire gang’s network after that shooting. Cole was one of the bravest people she knew.
And she was most definitely not.
“I’m okay,” she said, surprised when her voice came out weak. She realized just how tired she was.
“We stitched up your wound,” the nurse told her, jotting something down and then taking the blood pressure cuff off her arm. “You were lucky—it went straight through and didn’t hit anything crucial. The doctor is going to want to watch your vitals for a few hours, but then we’ll send you home. You should be feeling fine in a few days.”
Shaye nodded, trying not to focus on the dread she’d felt as soon as the nurse mentioned leaving the hospital. Would she ever feel safe again? Or would everywhere she went become like the forensics lab, requiring her to psyche herself up to leave her house? Tears welled, and she shoved them back, refusing to show any more weakness in front of Cole.
Once she knew no tears were going to escape, she looked over at him, hopeful. “Did they get the shooter?”
He frowned, shaking his head. “Not yet. But we’re already reaching out to the news stations. We’ll be putting out a call for information on all the evening shows. Someone will know something. We’ll find him.”
She shivered, suddenly cold, pulling the blanket tighter around her. Would they really? The department was good. She’d seen firsthand how dedicated they were. But with nothing to go on but a vague description of a gunman? Especially one who’d managed to escape the police’s net?
Cole must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he said, “We’ve got officers at the scene now, pulling the slugs from your car. The security camera at the grocery store was just for show, but we’re canvassing the area, hoping someone saw the shooter running away. And we’re checking nearby traffic cameras, too. Unless he lives close by, he must have had a vehicle waiting. Once we find that, it’s over.”
There was a dark determination to his voice that told her he planned to be there to slap on the handcuffs himself.
And what he was saying made sense. Although her job was peripheral—she analyzed digital devices like laptops or cell phones that cops brought to her under the fluorescent lights in her lab—she’d seen how investigations worked.
Roy’s Grocery was in a safe area. There were a lot of independent businesses there, and it was close to family neighborhoods. People watched out for one another. They would report someone running away after hearing gunshots. Logically, that would lead to a location where the shooter had a car waiting, and a license plate they could run through their system to get a name. She’d seen it happen before. She’d seen it work plenty of times.
But she’d also helped with cases where they’d come up empty no matter how hard they tried, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be one of those cases. Even worse, she hadn’t been any help at all. All she could say about the shooter was that he was male, probably white, definitely determined to kill her.
“Do you think it was the same people from last year?” She spoke her deepest fear.
Gangs didn’t give up. They didn’t forgive, and they held grudges.
The police had rounded up the whole group, killing some at the scene, then getting the driver from her identification. After that, they’d worked tirelessly to bring down the leadership, being creative by going after them on racketeering charges, using the digital trail she’d found before the shooting, before she’d quit. But was everyone behind bars, or had they missed someone? Had someone gotten out?
With gangs anything was possible, including someone new making a play to bring the group back, to make a name for himself by taking out the key witness in the trial that had brought down the old leadership. Last year she’d worried that she’d never be safe again. There had actually been talk of the Witness Protection Program.
But Cole and his partner had kept at it, even working with local FBI agents in one of the biggest task forces their small department had ever seen. She’d been gone by then, but she’d heard the rumors. Cole had ignored death threats. He’d kept going until he was certain every member was behind bars.
She’d seen the news headlines later that year, too, proclaiming the demise of the Jannis Crew gang. Her fear of returning to the station hadn’t gone away, but at the time, her logical brain had said there was no more reason for her to be scared.
“We’re looking into it,” Cole said, fury in the hard lines of his jaw. “But don’t worry. Chances are this is totally unrelated. You were probably a random victim, just in the wrong parking lot when he happened to be looking for trouble.”
“You think this guy was planning a mass shooting and the parking lot was emptier than he expected?” she asked. Or had Cole arrived before the shooter could head into the building to find more victims, she wondered, staring at the man who’d saved her life for the second time.
She flashed back to that moment when she’d flattened herself to the ground in a different parking lot, certain she was going to be killed. Back then, there’d been three other men in the lot with her, armed men, who’d each taken a bullet before they could unholster their weapons. She’d gotten as low as she could, with nowhere to run, bullets spraying over her head, and then Cole had run out the front door of the station, right into the line of fire.
“It’s definitely a possibility,” Cole said, and she refocused on their conversation.
Mass shooting. This was different from last year, she reminded herself. Except back then, she hadn’t been an intended target, either. Just at the wrong place at the wrong time. How many chances would she get before she ran out of them, or Cole wasn’t around to save her?
A shiver worked through her, and she spoke quickly to change the subject, knowing he’d seen it. “How long have I been here?”
He didn’t even glance at his watch. “A few hours.”
And he’d stayed beside her the whole time? She didn’t need to ask. She could tell from the way the nurse had maneuvered around him when she’d left the room without even looking, as if she’d been doing it repeatedly.
She had an instant flashback to the day she’d arrived in Jannis, having accepted the job as a digital forensics examiner. She’d walked through the station doors, thinking it was connected to the laboratory she was supposed to report to, her palms slick with nerves and her stride quick with anticipation. She’d turned the corner toward security and walked smack into Cole Walker.
She was tall, and in the heels she’d worn that first day with her carefully tailored suit, she’d been close to his six feet. But even in heels, she didn’t have slow or dainty strides. She walked with purpose, so she’d collided with him hard. Enough that the impact with his rock-hard chest had almost sent her to the ground.
The memory made her flush, warming her up, and Cole’s lips turned up at the corners like he could tell what she was thinking. Before he could comment on it, she blurted, “I’m not quitting.”
He looked surprised by her outburst, and, in truth, it had surprised her, too. She’d had no idea she was even thinking it until the words came out, but as soon as she spoke, she realized they were true.
A year ago she’d let the tragedy at the station derail her career. The fact was she’d let it derail her life.
She was scared. But how many times could she be this unlucky?
And she was tired of running from the things that scared her. She met Cole’s gaze, momentarily distracted by the perfect sky blue of his eyes, then felt her shoulders square on the scratchy hospital pillow. “Whatever needs to be done to catch this guy, I want to be a part of it.”
* * *
HAPPINESS BURST FORTH, then instantly warred with Cole’s need to keep Shaye safe.
He’d been thrilled when she had returned to the lab. It had been part of his motivation when he’d called her a month ago, asking for some off-the-books help with a situation his foster brother Andre had been battling. When she’d provided key information to help them nail the guy who’d been coming after his brother’s new girlfriend, he’d seen it boost her confidence again. Even more, he’d seen it remind her how much she loved the electronic chase.
He’d worked with enough forensics specialists in his years at the police department to know Shaye was special. She had a gift with computers, able to pull from them things no one else could find. And that kind of talent rarely came without passion.
When she’d left the job last year, he’d understood. A tiny part of him had even been glad, because it kept her out of the line of fire while they chased down the dangerous gang nervy enough to stage a drive-by at a police station. But he’d missed seeing her every day, those few moments each morning when they’d walk in from the parking lot together before she veered off to the county’s forensics lab located behind the station. Those few moments each evening when she’d wait for him outside the station doors, and they’d stand and chat before going their separate ways.
Once he’d been confident they’d shut the gang down, he’d reached out a few times, tried to convince Shaye to return. He knew her director had, too. But each time she’d refused, seeming embarrassed by the fact that she was afraid to come under fire again. So he was shocked that she was standing her ground now.
“Are you sure?” he asked. Before she could argue, he continued. “Believe me—I want you to stay. I think this is where you belong. But we don’t know who came after you today—and although I don’t think you were the target, I want to be sure. Your safety is most important.”
“I—”
“Hopefully, we’ll catch him today and discover he’s acting alone and picked you at random. But until we’re certain, I think you should go into protective custody.”
When she looked ready to argue, he held up a hand. “Not WitSec. I’m not asking you to give up your life here. This is nothing like last year.”
He hoped that was true. Nothing about this situation resembled the other—the shooter hadn’t been wearing gang colors, and he’d gone after Shaye at a store, instead of attacking where the rest of the gang’s presumed targets would be, back at the station. All logic pointed to this being random.
But he couldn’t shake the fear that someone wanted Shaye dead. And he couldn’t let anything happen to her.
“Just temporary police protection,” he continued, trying to stop his morose thinking. “Then, once we’re sure you’re out of danger, you get back to work.” He reached out and took her hand, which felt cold and tiny on top of the too-warm blanket. “Deal?”
“No.”
He almost laughed at the stubborn tilt of her chin, the petulant look in her eyes. But this wasn’t a joking matter. “No?” he repeated, in his best “bad cop” voice.
Staring at her now, looking so vulnerable in that hospital bed, made all his protective instincts fire to life. She might have belonged in forensics, but she could have gotten a job doing that anywhere. He’d been the one who’d lured her back to this department after she’d helped with his brother’s case. So everything that was happening to her now was on him.
The idea that he’d had any part, no matter how small, in putting her back in danger left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d always been drawn to Shaye, from that first day she’d shown up at the station, looking nervous behind her determined posture.
She’d slammed into him, all lean muscle and surprisingly soft curves, and then her cheeks had gone such a deep red, he’d been immediately charmed. He’d sought out excuses to see her every day. But he’d never been able to bring himself to ask her out. She was shy and sweet and smart. She came from a close-knit family and he knew when she looked into her future, she saw someone solid and stable to share it with, someone with a normal job. She deserved far better than he’d ever be able to give her.
But when it came to this—when it came to her safety—he knew he was the best man for the job.
He could tell she was scared. It was there, behind the determination in her eyes, in the slight tremor in her hand. But she shook her head.
“I let a shooting scare me off once. I work in law enforcement. Maybe I’m just a lab rat and not a cop, but I’m not letting it force me out again.”
“There’s no shame in going into hiding for a short time,” he told her, but she was already shaking her head again. “You know they’ll hold your job for you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” A smile quivered on her lips, fleeting and self-deprecating. “If I leave now, I’ll never come back. And I want to do this job. I want this life. I’m not giving up on it.”
Cole stared at her, not really sure what she meant by this life. But he could see it in her gaze—she wasn’t going to back down. Which meant he’d have to keep her safe. It would be way more challenging than if she’d agree to go off the grid, but the more he thought about it, there were upsides, too.
With no evidence this was a targeted hit, he’d be hard-pressed to convince the brass to use resources to protect her. He knew he could talk them into it for a short time, but it wouldn’t be easy. And if she went to a safe house, they’d assign a couple of patrol officers to watch her. If she kept working, he’d be on the case. He’d make sure of it. And that meant he’d also be personally in charge of her safety.
“Okay,” he said, not pulling his hand away from hers even as her cheeks started to flush from the extended contact. “Have it your way. But you’d better get used to having me around, then, because I’m not letting you out of my sight until we catch this guy.”
Chapter Three (#u7ad02723-41b0-5f69-a36f-b1bc725b0b43)
He wasn’t letting her out of his sight?
All sorts of inappropriate thoughts ran through Shaye’s mind until she was sure Cole could see exactly what she was thinking, especially when his pupils dilated, staring back at her.
She dropped her gaze to her lap, her heart thudding way too hard after the day she’d had, and pulled her hand free from his. She’d had a massive crush on Cole from the moment she’d met him. But if she hadn’t already known it, last year’s shooting had quickly shown her that they’d never work. While she’d turned in her resignation the very next morning—over the phone because she was too afraid to return to the scene of the crime—he’d gone right back to work.
They would never be equals. He would always be the brave detective with the badge and the gun, and here she was again, the terrified forensics expert. It couldn’t be more obvious, with her stuck in this hospital bed, in a hospital gown someone had changed her into—she hoped not in front of Cole—and him ready to dive right into solving the case.
But this time would be different, she vowed. Because she might be way too shy, way too awkward, way too boring for a man like Cole Walker, but she was tired of feeling like a coward. Two years ago she’d moved out to Maryland from Michigan, leaving behind her big, well-meaning family and the anonymity that came with being the middle child in a group of five. She’d dived into the unfamiliar, trying to break out of her comfort zone. She’d even bought a house, putting down roots right away, to force herself to stay if things got tough. And things had sure gotten tough.
She wasn’t going to let herself be driven out of the job she loved and the place she’d come to consider home a second time.
She clenched her jaw and looked back up at Cole, praying her cheeks would cool. “What do we know so far about the forensics? What can I do?”
Her specialty was computers, but she had plenty of cross-training. There had to be some way she could help catch this guy. And once they caught him, maybe she could get back to the task of putting her life back on track.
Cole patted her hand. “Right now I just want you to focus on healing up.”
“I’m fine.” She knew he didn’t mean to condescend to her, but if she wanted him to take her seriously as a professional—and not a victim he had to take care of—she needed to show him a reason. She shoved off the blanket and got to her feet, remembering too late she was hooked up to an IV.
The nurse ran in as her monitor went off, and Shaye clapped her hand over the crook of her elbow where she’d pulled out the line.
Cole stood, tried to steady her as she wobbled a little on her feet. “What are you doing?”
“Going home.”
“You need to be under observation,” the nurse stated, scowling as she slapped a piece of cotton over the blood on Shaye’s arm and taped it down.
“I’m fine,” Shaye said. “The wound on my leg is closed, right? My heart rate and blood pressure have been pretty normal the whole time I’ve been in here.” She’d been peeking over at her monitor periodically as she and Cole talked. “You said you were going to release me today. I’m ready to go.”
The nurse frowned at her, but it was nothing compared with Cole’s expression, a mixture of worry, frustration and anger.
Shaye stood her ground. “Have the doctor look at me if you need to, but I feel okay. I want to go home.”
The nurse muttered something under her breath, then looked her over. “All right. But if you start feeling dizzy or your wound opens up, I want you to come back here—understood?”
Nodding, Shaye hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. But she couldn’t stay here any longer. She needed answers about who had shot at her—and why. And she wasn’t going to get them on her back in a hospital bed.
She was tired of letting things happen to her. It was time to fight back.
* * *
