Beams of light splayed across the living area from the windows and partially-cracked-open door. Bella was safe.
For now.
* * *
“You can stand down, Bella.” Holden’s voice reached her ears but she couldn’t stop from standing on alert, her arms raised with her weapon ready to fire. Only when his hands touched her shoulders, ran down her arms to hug her from behind, did she lower her arms and engage the safety. “You’re safe.”
She leaned against him, not caring that it was only minutes since she’d promised herself she wouldn’t so much as touch him for the remainder of the pageant, no matter how much longer she had to rely on his protection. There was no hope for them past what they’d already shared, and she wasn’t about prolonging her own agony. Her resolve seemed trite in light of the shootout, and while her brain registered that she’d been intimate with Holden for the last time, her body needed the physical reassurance of his hold to confirm that they were both alive.
They’d survived.
“That was wild.” Her words came out higher pitched than usual, not unlike a cartoon character. Giggles erupted, joining the trembling that shook her.
“You’re going on adrenaline. It’ll pass.” His voice, his warm breath, was against her left ear and she had to fight to keep from turning her head the few degrees it needed to put her mouth to his. To escape into the heat they alone shared, far away from the threat of immediate death at the hands of a determined monster.
“This will never pass, Holden.”
He didn’t respond and she sensed he knew what she meant. Their combined attraction and connection wasn’t trivial, and was made of the fiber that bound couples together for a lifetime.
But their lives were too different, too separate. Even if she were willing to choose a career he’d be more accepting of, and she wasn’t, not for any man, Holden had made it clear that he wasn’t about long-distance relationships. The two hours between here and Phoenix wasn’t impossible to manage but she knew he wasn’t talking about mere miles.
Holden meant their worldviews and values were too far apart to
navigate. To make holding on worth it.
“Listen, Bella, if the intruder is the killer, if he’d captured you—”
“He didn’t. You were here.”
“But I might not always be. Do you know what to do if you’re taken hostage?”
She looked up at him. “Stay alive.”
“Yes, but there are some techniques we know are worth employing. Keep the kidnapper talking, try to draw them out. And don’t let them take you to a different place if you can at all help it. Promise me you’ll do that.” He wanted her to promise not just for her, but for him. Because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live without her.
“I’ll do it, promise. But with you around, no killer is getting to me.”
He wished he was the man she thought he was. With Bella, he felt invincible.
Footsteps stomped outside, and someone pounded on the kitchen door.
“MVPD. We’re coming in. Stay still with hands up.” The female voice that sounded from the other side of the kitchen wall, on the patio, was Detective Kerry Wilder, whom Bella knew well through Spencer.
“Kerry, it’s Bella Colton. I’m with—”
“FBI Agent Holden St. Clair.” Holden’s voice was loud and commanding next to her, and she started to relax. “The shooter took off through the desert, heading toward the edge of the neighborhood.”
“Roger.” Detective Wilder’s next commands were rapid and Bella imagined Kerry was telling the team with her to disperse into the desert. “Stay put until I come back.” Kerry’s voice reached them from the other side of the kitchen door. Bella saw several shadows swipe by the window as the tactical team ran for the desert.
Holden and Bella stood in the quiet of the kitchen, and she reveled in the strength she drew from being in his arms. It was almost possible to believe they might be near the end of this nightmare.
Until the shadow of a police helmet passed the kitchen window. “It’s Detective Wilder, I’m entering your kitchen through the door.”
When Bella took full stock of Kerry in full tactical gear, her nerves forgot about relaxing. It was impossible to tell it was Kerry, as she couldn’t see the woman’s flaming red hair, obscured by a dark helmet complete with night-vision goggles. Kerry reached a gloved hand through the broken kitchen door window, turned the dead bolt and opened the battered door. She carried an automatic weapon and Bella registered the magazines of rounds clipped to her body armor.
Kerry lifted her helmet visor, sending the NVGs above her head, too. The flash of her familiar blue eyes sent waves of relief through Bella. Followed immediately by quakes of nausea. Where was Spencer? Had one of the bullets hit her brother?
Sweat beaded her upper lip and she forced breaths in and out of her mouth, not sure if she was going to pass out or throw up.