by Kat Martin
“What the hell?” he growled. “You couldn’t let me get a couple of hours sleep?”
She bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to upset him. She’d just come to thank him. She hadn’t slept all night. She couldn’t. Not until she talked to him.
“I-I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”
His eyes widened, brown and gold, just like his hair. “It’s you!” Gripping her arm, he dragged her inside and slammed the front door behind him. “Sorry. I thought it was one of the jackals out on my front lawn.”
Erin’s eyes ran over his bare chest, which was ridged with muscle, his stomach washboard flat. Powerful biceps flexed every time he moved. She was only five-foot-two. Kurt Layton had to be nearly a foot taller.
“Come on, I’ll make us a pot of coffee,” he said.
Erin just stood there staring up at him. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just...I wanted to thank you for what you did. I couldn’t sleep last night. You saved my life. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I needed to thank you.”
His features softened. “What’s your name?”
“Erin. Erin McCallum.”
“Tell you what, Erin. Coffee’s in the cabinet above the sink. Why don’t you make us a pot while I go put on a shirt.” He was early thirties and even better looking than she’d thought.
“All right,” she heard herself say, and found herself moving toward the neat and clean yellow galley kitchen she could see behind the breakfast counter. She found the coffee where Kurt had said and began the task of brewing a pot, the familiar routine somehow calming.
By the time Kurt walked back out of the bedroom wearing an olive-drab t-shirt with his jeans, the coffee pot had finished brewing. His hair was combed, and though a dark scruff of beard lined his jaw, he looked wide awake. She swallowed. And he looked...hot.
Erin remembered her appearance in the mirror that morning, dark smudges beneath her eyes, her face a little too pale. She inwardly winched to think of it.
Kurt filled a mug for her and handed it over. “You need cream or sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
He filled one for himself and they sat down on stools at the counter, Erin carefully setting her small purse over to the side.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
She wrapped her hands around the mug, absorbing the warmth, grateful for it. “Barely. I never imagined what it would be like to see someone killed right in front of you.”
“It’s not easy.”
She straightened. “I’m glad he’s dead. If that makes me a bad person, that’s just the way it is.”
Kurt’s jaw hardened. “I’m glad, too. I only wished he’d gone down a little sooner.”
She relaxed. She wasn’t a vengeful person. On the other hand, Mason Doan had been trying to kill people. “I heard you on TV. You were in the military?”
Kurt nodded. “Five years.”
“You’re from Texas. You were an Army Ranger.”
“That’s right.” He smiled. “I’m a home grown boy and proud of it.”
She wanted to smile in return, but couldn’t make it happen. “The media loves you. We don’t get many heroes these days.”
He set his coffee mug down on the counter. “There are plenty of heroes out there, better men than me. Soldiers put their lives on the line every day.”
Her eyes found his, a warm, gold-flecked brown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I appreciate everything the military does to protect us.”
The muscles across Kurt’s broad shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad you feel that way. I wish more people understood what they do to protect us.”
She heard a knock at the door and knew the media wasn’t waiting any longer. She tipped her head toward the front of the townhouse. “Maybe you’ll get a chance to tell them.”
She set the mug down on the counter and rose from the stool next to his. “Thank you for letting me in and thank you for what you did for all of us yesterday.”
“I was just doing my—“
“I know. But thanks anyway. Maybe now I’ll be able to sleep.”
At the word sleep, a flash of gold seemed to glitter in his eyes, then it was gone.
The knocks grew louder. Someone rang the doorbell.
“Good-bye, Kurt Layton.” She started for the door.
“Wait... Maybe we could talk again. Meet for coffee sometime or maybe I could take you to lunch.”
She looked at him. He was probably just being kind. But the way he was looking at her, maybe not.
He grabbed his phone. “Give me your number.”
She hesitated. Under different circumstances, she wouldn’t consider it. She didn’t even know him. Or maybe she knew him soul-deep, knew him in a way few people ever knew anyone. She rattled off her number and Kurt entered it into his cell.
“Now let me give you mine,” he said. “That way if you ever need me, you’ll be able to find me.”
She took her cell out of her purse and handed it over, and he punched in his contact information. She didn’t expect the sense of security she felt having his number.
The banging grew louder. “Good-bye, Kurt. Good luck.”
She pulled open the door and a crescendo of noise erupted, people barking requests and calling Kurt’s name. Erin shoved her sunglasses back on her face, tied the scarf beneath her chin, and shouldered her way through the crowd. A couple of reporters followed her to her car shouting questions, but Kurt was the real story so they wandered back toward his townhouse she started the engine and drove away.
She doubted she would ever see Kurt again—except, of course, on TV.
Chapter Four
Erin didn’t hear from Kurt. Three days had passed. He was still a hot item on TV. She almost smiled at the thought. The man was definitely hot, any way you put it.
She hadn’t really expected to hear from him. She’d looked tired and bedraggled the morning she had gone to see him. A guy with a face and body like his wasn’t desperate for a date.
She knew quite a bit about him, knew he was single, did security work for a firm called Maximum Security. After watching several of his interviews, she knew he’d gone to high school in San Antonio where he played football, that he had a sister now living in Arizona.
What intrigued her was the man himself. What gave a man the kind of courage it took to come face-to-face with a killer? What gave him the strength to put himself at risk to save other people’s lives?
She would probably never know.
Still, she thought about him. Was thinking about him that morning when she climbed into her bright blue Toyota Corolla, parked in a carport in the lot behind her apartment.
It was a warm September day, but clouds had begun to roll over the city, cooling the temperature a little. She’d gotten a call back for a second interview for a teaching job at Rosemont Elementary. She loved working with younger kids so she was really hoping they would offer her the job. Unfortunately, there were a lot of other applicants. The odds weren’t good.
She turned the key and the engine purred to life. As she put the vehicle in gear, the doors clicked into the locked position, and she looked up at exactly that instant to see a shadowy figure rushing toward the driver’s side window.
If she hadn’t just been involved in an active shooter situation, she might have hesitated. As it was, fear took hold, Erin ducked and stepped on the gas. A heartbeat later, a bullet smashed through the window, missing the side of her head by inches and exploding through the headrest.
She cried out as the car leapt forward, and a second shot blasted through the rear window, barely missing her again. She kept driving, trembling all over, the Toyota roaring out of the parking lot into the street, careering around a corner, racing off down the block.
She had no idea where she was going, only that she was terrified to slow down, afraid to stop for fear the man who had shot at her was somewhere behind her, determined to track her down.
Her heart raced. Dea
r God, for the second time this week, she had almost been killed! What was happening? What was going on?
She kept driving, fighting to bring her fear under control as she turned down one street and then another, weaving her way through traffic, constantly checking her rearview mirror.
She hadn’t realized where she was heading until she saw the sign for Blackburn Street, the address for Maximum Security. She’d seen it when she’d looked up information on Kurt Layton and discovered that was where he worked.
She spotted the sign out front and pulled into the parking lot behind the single-story red brick building. She stopped near the back door, but didn’t turn off the engine in case she was being followed and needed to get away quickly.
Still trembling, she dug out her cell with shaking hands and punched Kurt’s contact number. Her name must have appeared on his screen because he knew who it was.
“Erin? I’m glad you called. I was just thinking about—“
“I-I’m in the parking lot behind your office. Someone...someone tried to kill me.”
“Don’t hang up. I’m coming right out. Just hang on.”
Her grip tightened on the phone. She checked her surroundings, turned to look out her back window. She gasped when she turned back and saw a figure with a gun in his hand racing up to her side of the car.
“It’s all right,” Kurt said through the hole surrounded by jagged shards of glass. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Put the car in Park and turn off the engine.”
She had forgotten the vehicle was still running, realized her leg was shaking where it pressed on the brake. She took care of the car, opened her door and climbed out. A single step, her knees went weak, and she collapsed against Kurt’s chest.
***
Kurt quickly holstered his pistol and swept Erin up in his arms.
“Adrenalin rush,” he said. “You’ll be okay in a minute.” She felt light as a feather as he carried her toward the door, her fiery hair like silk against his skin.
Jonah stood near the entrance, pistol drawn, acting as backup, alert for any threat. “I’m not seeing anything.”
“I-It happened in my parking lot,” Erin said. “He walked up to my window and I stepped on the gas as the same time he fired. The bullet went through the window.”
Right through her headrest, he’d noticed, missing her by inches. The second time someone had tried to kill her this week. His jaw hardened. Kurt didn’t believe in coincidence. Either Doan had a copycat or she’d been a target the first time. Which meant someone besides Mason Doan might want her dead.
She rested her head against his chest as he carried her inside, into the employees lounge, and set her down on the vinyl sofa. He took a bottle of water out of the fridge, cracked the cap, and pressed it into her hand. Erin took a long swallow.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I was just really scared, is all.”
“How did you get away?”
“I don’t think I would have if the shooting at the church hadn’t happened. As it was, it was fresh in my mind. When I saw the gun, I just reacted. I ducked and slammed my foot on the gas, and drove away as fast as I could. I don’t think he followed me but I don’t know for sure.”
“If he followed you here, he’s going to wish he hadn’t,” Kurt said darkly, meaning every word. Jonah was outside in case the guy showed up. He was armed and he was deadly. She was safe. As long as she was there.
She looked up at him with those big blue eyes that had sucked him in the morning she’d shown up at his townhouse. “What am I going to do?”
He didn’t hesitate. “You’re going to let me keep you safe.”
Erin shook her head. “This isn’t your problem, it’s mine. Maybe I should call the police.”
“You should definitely call the police. In fact, you should call them right now. Better yet, I’ll do it for you.”
Kurt took out his cell, but he didn’t dial 9-1-1. Instead, he phoned the number he’d been given for Detective Keith Holmes, Dallas PD.
“Detective, this is Kurt Layton. A murder attempt was just made on Erin McCallum. She drove to my office. That’s where she is now.”
“McCallum? The girl at the church?”
“That’s the one.” But when he looked at Erin, he didn’t see a girl. He saw a woman, a sexy, very attractive woman. One he felt drawn to and was determined to protect.
“Jesus,” Holmes said. “That means there could have been more than one shooter at the church.”
“Or at least someone else involved in the planning.”
“You have Ms. McCallum secure at your location?” the detective asked.
“She’s safe for now.”
“I’ll send a patrol car and meet you there.”
“Just you. We need to keep this quiet.”
“You may be right. I’m on my way.” Holmes ended the call and Kurt turned and found himself staring into a pair of worried blue eyes. He was getting used to the little kick those blue eyes stirred, an arousal it was the exact wrong time to feel.
“Detective Holmes is on his way,” he said.
“Thank you.” Erin sighed as she leaned back against the sofa. “Seems like I’m always saying thanks to you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. But there is something that needs to be said. You must realize that getting shot and nearly killed two times in a matter of days is probably not a coincidence.”
Her eyes closed for an instant. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Her gaze found his. “But I don’t see how the shootings can be connected. The police believe there was only one gunman. Doan is dead, so who came after me today? And why do they want to kill me?”
“That’s what we need to figure out.”
The sound of a siren pulling up in front of the office postponed the discussion. But it wasn’t over—not by a long shot.
“You ready for this?” he asked as Erin rose from the sofa.
“No, but I’ll get through it.” The edge of her lips tipped up. “At least no one’s shot me yet.”
Kurt found himself smiling. He liked a woman with a sense of humor. Especially one who could joke when her life was in danger—hard to beat a woman like that.
Chapter Five
Erin went into the conference room with Kurt and gave her statement to Detective Holmes. He was worried, she could tell. He was afraid a second shooter might show up somewhere in Dallas.
The churches would all be put back on high alert, he told her. Gatherings of people throughout the city would be assigned extra security. Erin wasn’t surprised. Bobby Allen had survived the surgery to repair the wound in his chest, but his life was still hanging by a thread.
Then Holmes asked what the second shooter looked like and she realized she couldn’t describe him. “I’m not sure. He was just a blur as the car raced away from him.”
“Anything you can remember would help, Erin.”
She went back over what had happened. “Average height, I guess.” She tried to remember the color of his hair. “I could be wrong, but I think he might have been bald. You know, like his head was shaved.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”
The detective tapped his notebook, stuck it back in his suit coat pocket. “You never know what will help.”
The interview held no surprises.
The surprise came after the detective left the office the employees called The Max. That’s when Kurt informed her that she could no longer stay in her apartment.
“The shooter knows where you live,” he said. “Whoever is after you has made two attempts on your life. You need to be somewhere safe. I’m the best protection you’ve got, so unless you know a place we can go out of the city, I suggest you stay with me until this is over.”
Her eyes widened. She didn’t have anywhere to go. At the moment, she didn’t even have a job. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. Surely you don’t want a house guest.”
“Do you trust me, Erin?”
Emotion
welled in her chest. So much had happened. If it hadn’t been for Kurt....
Her eyes stung. “I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”
His wide shoulders relaxed. “Then you know you’ll be safe with me.”
Erin swallowed past the lump in her throat. “What about you? You’ve been in the news. People know where you live. What if whoever shot at me figures out where I am and comes after me at your house?”
“He’s got no reason to connect you to me. Far as he knows, we’ve never even met.”
“It could happen.”
Anger turned the back of his neck red. “He shows up, he’ll wind up as dead as the guy in the church.” He walked toward her, urged her up from her chair in the conference room, set a hand at her waist, and urged her out the door.
“We can’t go back to your place,” he said. “Someone might be watching. There’s a Target not far from my place. We can pick up whatever you need.”
She stopped and turned. “Are you sure, Kurt? You don’t owe me anything.”
“I want you safe, Erin. I’ve seen enough people die. I don’t want you to be one of them.”
Relief and something else trickled through her. “Okay then.” They headed outside and he led her over to a silver car that looked like a classic.
“Sixty-six Chevy Chevelle Super Sport. Belonged to my grandfather. He put it up on blocks when he got older. I always loved it, so he willed it to me when he died.”
“Wow.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I had it completely rebuilt.” His hand slid over it lovingly. “This baby can really haul ass.”
She actually smiled.
After a stop at Target, then the grocery store, he drove her to his townhouse and parked the Chevy in the garage.
As soon as they got settled and he’d put the groceries away, Kurt set her down at the kitchen table and started asking questions.
“Now that we’re here and you’re settled, we need to figure out who wants you dead. There are two likely possibilities. First, that the second shooter was in the church that day and saw you, or somehow knows Doan was aiming at you when he was killed.”