One step, two, my boots sinking into the sand.
“We found the same gun on the beach,” I say, nodding at his Glock, which he is struggling to keep aloft. “Did you plant it to delay the investigation or throw us off your trail?”
He’s staring at the phone. “Both.”
“Well played.”
“Don’t humor me,” he hisses through his teeth. “Give me the phone.”
I nod evenly, edging forward another step. Two. “Here you go. It’s all yours.”
He’s so eager to speak with his boss and absorb more of her false praise for what he’s done that he’s distracted for a split second. But that’s all I need. I toss the phone up in the air and his attention goes with it. My left hand clamps around the wrist of the hand holding the gun, angling it toward the ocean. It goes off. A bullet fired into the black water where it will hit no one. Especially not Taylor.
The reminder that this man meant to kill her causes me to subdue him with a harder punch than intended, the crunch of cartilage not nearly enough. Nothing will ever be enough. But that’s all it takes for him to go down in a heap on the sand, the phone landing beside his outstretched hand. I remove the clip from his gun and toss it down, too, my adrenaline crashing with a vengeance. From all sides. I see Taylor flying down the stairs in my direction, but I’m shaking my head, not quite ready to declare the beach danger free for her.
She keeps coming, though, leaping, our chests colliding, her arms wrapping around my neck. I’m still so numb with the fear of potentially losing her that I can’t even pick up my arms to hug her back. For long moments, all I can do is breathe in the scent of apples, rubbing my face in her hair, until finally my limbs start to work again and I crush her tight to my body, overcome by the fact that she’s alive. She’s alive and she’s not hurt.
“Taylor.”
“I know. I know.”
“Taylor.”
She kisses my cheek, my jaw. “I know.”
I’m trying to process out loud the fact that I almost lost her, but she seems to understand without words. She seems to know it would have killed me. Good. Good, we’ll work out the rest. Everything else is details as long as she’s alive. I’m surrounded by police officers now who want statements. They are trying to rouse Kurt on the sand and he’s stirring. There’s no way in hell I’m trusting anyone but myself to cuff him and bring him to jail. This man was going to kill the incredible woman I’m holding in my arms. This woman who trusted me to keep her safe. My woman. I’m seeing this through. “Give them your statement,” I say, kissing her temple. “I won’t be able to relax until he’s locked up and he probably needs medical attention first.”
Her lips twitch. “Thanks to you.”
I tuck some windblown strands of hair behind her ear. “He had a gun pointed at you. He’s lucky he doesn’t need a coroner.”
She smiles at me, but something is off.
Why does she seem…sad?
Her arms drop from their position around my neck, her hands sliding into the rear pockets of her shorts. “Thank you. For what you did. Trading places with me and…all of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
After a second, she nods. “I know. You were doing your job.”
What the hell? “You’re more than a job.”
She nods, as if she was expecting me to say that. But I don’t really think she understands. I need to spell this out for her. “Taylor, I’m—”
“Sumner!” Wright shouts. “The chief has some questions—”
“In a minute!” I bark over my shoulder, before facing Taylor again. “Hey. Listen to what I’m telling you. Even when I thought we had this case solved, I couldn’t leave. I want to do this. Us. I need to be with you. Do you hear me? I’m done running. I want to run to you.”
“Wow,” Wright says to my left. “That’s poetic, man.” He sniffs. “Ah shit. I need to call my ex-wife.”
“Walk away,” I grit out.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
When we’re alone again, Taylor still looks sort of resigned and Christ, I’m starting to panic. “You feel this way right now, Myles, because we just went through something scary together.” She squeezes my arm. “But tomorrow or the next day you’ll remember all the reasons you told me this wouldn’t work and you’ll be right—”
“No. I was a fucking moron, Taylor. I said that shit out of anger and fear.”
Isn’t this supposed to be the happy ending? Guy saves girl, guy kisses girl and they ride off into the sunset? The girl isn’t supposed to say nah, thanks, I’m good.
This isn’t happening.
“I was supposed to come here. I was supposed to meet you. The road was leading me here. To you. All right?” Here we go. The final wall has collapsed. I’m exposed. “You made me remember I love Boston. Because you reminded me of what home feels like. You made me call my brother. Because you made me remember what love feels like. You did that. I’m not walking away from you. We’re going to fight until we meet in the middle, Taylor. End of story. You’re not cutting me off. I’m taking you home to meet my family. I’m doing the whole fucking thing, all right?” I clasp the sides of her face in my hands. “Please let me do the whole thing?”