The girl screamed. God Bless Rafe Lopez. He grabbed her, silencing her with a hand over her mouth, and pulled her several car lengths away.
Rory Cook began to shake, his hand dropped, the hand gun dangling from his fingers. Bret moved closer, transmitting a clear message. I will shoot you.
Rory dropped the gun to the pavement and the chief moved in to pull him away, forcing him face down on the hood of a nearby car and cuffing him.
Tom hadn’t waited for a reaction from Tobias. In the moment he froze at Bret’s words, Tom reached for him and jerked the rifle from his grasp. Carmen Vogel was two steps behind and forced the kid to the ground, cuffing him.
“Clear.” Bret dropped his shotgun. The rest of the team echoed his response.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Thank God!
It was only a few silent moments after that Tobias began to swear a blue streak, threatening them all.
“Get him out of here. Get them all out of here,” the chief ordered. The teens were forced to the patrol cars and placed in separate vehicles.
“I’d like to go check the school, sir. Tell the principal.” Bret handed his shotgun to Tom, and shed his bulletproof vest.
The chief nodded. “Go. Tell Mr. Marsh, we’ve got them.”
That would be his first stop, but after that he was going straight to Meg’s classroom. Emotion rose to choke him. He had to see her, tell her he was sorry, hold her.
Meg started a conversation with her students about their favorite childhood memory to keep them occupied. They conversed in quiet tones, staying close together in the circle. This was so not in her lesson plans for this afternoon.
There were no sounds from the hallway, no sounds from outside, no announcements either.
She should have been relieved because a lot of noise would have meant things were out of control, but instead she felt the tension wind tighter and tighter in the back of her skull and down her neck until she thought she’d burst into tears, scream, or simply walk out into the hall to see what was going on. A stupid move, all things considered.
The clock in her classroom hummed and each time the minute hand moved, it clicked. It was an ominous noise that she’d never noted before, one that grated on her nerves. Periodically during her teaching day, she could hear noises from the classroom next door. Today there was nothing.
She occupied herself with memories of her time with Bret. She was so deep in love with the man, she was forever changed. What had started out as some kind of infatuated love at first sight had evolved into the lasting forever kind.
Meg twisted her neck from side to side and shrugged her shoulders, trying to release the tension gathering there. This was not the time to be sorting through her feelings or making assumptions about Bret’s. She wasn’t the kind of person who avoided issues either, which is exactly what she’d done since their argument about his mother. She was more direct and maybe it was time to flat out ask Bret if he was falling in love with her and ask him if they could work it out. Surely, the man could tell her that much.
“Ms. Applegate?” Glory had scooted closer so her whisper could be heard. “Shouldn’t we have heard something by now? Maybe we should check.”
“Mr. Marsh will make an announcement when all is clear. Until he does, we wait.”
Meg shifted on the floor, her tailbone starting to hurt from so long sitting on the carpet.
“But—”
“I know.” She patted Glory’s hand. “I know.” Meg looked at the clock again, noting that forty-five minutes had passed since they went into lockdown. The temptation to pick up her cell phone and dial the office was another irritant she didn’t need. A larger temptation sat on her mind like a ton of concrete. She could call Bret to find out. But she didn’t want to be a distraction, a hazard to his life and limb.
Shrugging her shoulders again, she looked around the circle, trying to remember to keep her face positive, to transmit confidence and hope. When there was news, they would be told. Until then, it was her job to keep them occupied.
“Let’s start a new question...”
A knock sounded at the door making Meg’s stomach drop like debris off the falls at the reservoir.
She rose to her feet, uncertain.
What if it was one of the gunmen waiting for her to be stupid? It seemed the kids had much the same idea, as they shifted almost as a group closer to the wall.
“Meg! It’s Bret.”
The air escaped from her lungs in an involuntary whoosh and she stumbled to her feet.
“Meg!” His hand pounded the door.
She rushed to the door, flipped the lock, and threw open the door. She launched herself into Bret’s arms, relieved to feel his weight against hers, to smell the sweat and heat on his skin. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a rough intensity.
The speaker cackled and Mr. Marsh came on the intercom. “Code Red has now been cancelled. Teachers, we will be releasing the students to the gym by classroom in a few moments. Please wait for your classroom to be called before allowing your students to leave.” There was a brief pause. “At this time, all classrooms 100-120 South, that’s all the classrooms in the south wing may go to the gym.”
Her students seemed more interested in watching Bret kiss her than in leaving. When she realized it, she broke away and flushed a bright red. Bret wouldn’t let her go, though.
“Are you all right?” His hands cupped her face.
She nodded and reached up to lace her fingers through his, pulling his hands away from her face. Finally, she turned to her class. Twenty-three students stood facing them, pale and drawn, but grinning.
She pointed at the door. “Out. Go to the gym. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Glory spoke before anyone else could. “Did you catch them, Officer Cara?”
Bret nodded, his eyes grim. “In the parking lot, Glory. They never got in the building.”
“Are they alive?” Meg asked, biting her lip.
“Yes.” There was a collective sigh.
“Are they going to jail?” Glory’s voice quivered.
“Yes. Don’t worry about that.”
The kids started moving, slowly picking up books and backpacks and making their way out of the classroom.
His arms snaked around her and pulled her back against him. He kissed her forehead and took a deep breath.
“Tell me, please.”
He told her the whole story in quiet, measured tones. A chill went through her at his active role in bringing the boys down, but pride asserted itself. He’d put himself in danger to protect all of them.
She sighed. “Thank God, no one was hurt.”
He dropped his forehead to hers. “Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to Glory and Lisa.”
He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes scanning her face. She was a mess and didn’t care. “I’m sorry about the other night. You caught me at a bad time.”
“Let’s talk about all that later. Okay?” She kissed his chin, working her way to his mouth.
‘I have to go back to the department. Do you want me to take you home?”
She shook her head, toying with the buttons on his shirt. “I need to stay until all the kids leave. I’m sure once the word spreads, there will be a few parents who want to talk to me.”
He held her close. “Someone will probably need to talk with Joyce Sanchez, but I’m not sure who that will be. I’ll need to sort that out before I leave here. Don’t say anything to her.”
“I won’t. But I’ll be here for her after y’all talk to her. Can you meet me later at my house?” She could have kicked herself for making it a question.
“It’s a deal.” He grinned.
Relieved, she separated from him and walked to her desk. She fished an extra house key out of her purse and handed it to him. “If you get there before I do.”
He hesitated for a moment, took it from her and slid it into his pocket. For good measure, she went up on tiptoe and sealed their p
lans with a kiss of her own.
Meg stepped into her bathtub, closed the shower curtain, and turned her back to the hot spray of water. Phone calls to reassure the family of her safety took forever. She was more than ready for some peace and quiet. Closing her eyes, she let the water beat on her. She didn’t have the energy to wash her hair, soap herself, or shave her legs. She just wanted to stand here.
She tried lying to herself by swearing she’d shaken off the events of the day, but now that it was over, her hands shook slightly, she jumped at every sound, and she was exhausted. She’d been home for an hour and on the phone for an hour—to her mother, her father, her grandmother, Chad, Rick. Bret still hadn’t arrived. She was tempted to call the police department to see where he was, wanting him near her, holding her, but she stifled that irritating need and got in the shower instead.
A knock on the bathroom door made her jerk upright, nearly slipping in the tub.
“Bret?” God, she hoped so.
“Yeah, it’s me.” The door opened a crack. “Can I come in?”
Her first instinct was to cover herself and refuse, but he couldn’t see her behind the purple-flowered shower curtain and he’d kissed, licked, sucked, or stroked every inch of her anyway, so what would be the point? “Yes, you can come in,” she finally called.
She held her breath and listened to his footsteps cross her small bathroom’s tile floor. His presence settled her jumpy nerves. What was about the man that she wanted him in her house, in her shower, in her bed, and in her hair, irritating, thrilling, and loving her for the rest of her life.
“You okay?”
His deep voice made her nipples shrink, goose bumps suddenly on her flesh. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not sure.” She swiped her hair from her face and peeked out from behind the curtain.
He stood near the toilet, looking unsure. “Mind if I join you?”
“Please.”
His EFPD T-shirt hit the floor alongside his shoes. He reached for the zipper on his jeans.
She was stunned silent by the wide-expanse of bare skin across his chest, light dusting of brown hair, and the muscle flex as he removed his jeans, underwear, and socks. Fully nude, he stepped into the shower and pulled her against him. The tears came then. He earned points by not running for the hills, but by pulling her closer.
“It’s adrenaline let down,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “It’ll be fine in a few.”
She pulled back, suddenly unreasonably angry. “What in the hell did those three think they were doing?”
He held her loosely, letting her step into the spray for a moment. He turned them so the water hit his back.
“I don’t think there was a whole lot of thinking going on. Drugs were involved, some drinking, and a whole lot of anger and stupidity.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, and then came back again for another longer one.
“I never want to see that look of terror on my students’ faces again.” She bit her lip, trying to control her outbursts.
He didn’t seem bothered by her emotion. In fact his solemn expression, the concern in his eyes, burned through her. His quiet words blew out the flame on her anger. “You’re preaching to the choir, Megan mine.”
She sagged against him. It wasn’t long, however, before the water grew cold. “Sorry. I was in here for quite a bit before you got here.”
He kissed the top of her head, released her, and turned off the shower. “It’s okay. I took one at the station. I just wanted to hold you.”
She pulled back the shower curtain and opened the cupboard between the toilet and the shower. She removed two clean towels and handed one to him. She stepped out of the tub and onto the mat on the floor, hurrying to wrap herself in the towel before shivering set in.
His hands settled on her shoulders. “Let me.” She twisted to look at him. He’d anchored a towel around his waist and began rubbing her skin, helping her dry off. His touch was more like a massage, though, and each rub or touch made her sigh. “God, that feels good.”
“I aim to please.” He made her lift each foot so he could dry them. “Now—to the bedroom. I know just the thing for all those tight muscles.”
“Really?” She smiled at him, letting go of their day.
“Guaranteed to burn adrenaline and calories.”
Meg nodded. “Always a good thing.”
“Here’s another good thing.” He bent and lifted her into his arms. She hadn’t been in a man’s arms since she was ten and had fallen off her bike trying to keep up with Chad and had broken her arm. Her father had carried her to the car and into the emergency room. There was no pain this time, only supreme pleasure.
At her bedroom door, he hesitated for a moment. Her yellow quilt was folded back on the bed, revealing petal green sheets. Her pillows had been fluffed and propped invitingly, an action that was more something to do with restless hands than intention. She’d turned on the small Tiffany lights on either side of her bed before she’d gotten in the shower and the faint glow was like candlelight, romantic and soothing. He stepped into her room, her weight pulled against his chest as if she were a precious package.
He walked to the bed and set her on her feet. He loosened the towel from around her and dropped it on the floor. His gaze swept her from head to toe, lingering on her mouth, her breasts. His towel followed hers. He lifted her gently and laid her on the bed, following her down, settling his weight against hers in slow, measured movements.
His lips hovered, millimeters from hers, prolonging the anticipation.
“Make me forget,” she whispered.
“My pleasure.” His mouth settled on hers, his need a reflection of her own.
And forgetting was simple.
Meg woke with Bret pressed against her side, his arm heavy on her stomach. At the edge of her blinds, she could see a bright morning light. It must be early, but she didn’t want to twist around to see her clock and confirm. Instead, she turned her head slightly and immersed herself in his presence—the utter peace in his face, the warmth of his body, his musky scent, his deep breathing.
This felt right, like all was as it was supposed to be. After last night, she was sure that he had to feel the same way she did, but was having trouble telling her. That’s all. Once they talked, once she confessed her feelings, he’d see that her love would be a strength for him, not a trap. He’d let go of her promise of no commitment and offer her everything she dreamed of.
She reached out and lightly stroked his eyebrows and down his nose, then sighed. He didn’t move. Her stomach rumbled and she pressed a hand against it to stifle the noise. Neither of them had eaten last night, too caught up in the need to be together.
Breakfast in bed would be a perfect way to get the day started and to initiate a conversation about their future. She usually stayed in bed on Saturday mornings, taking the day off to sleep in. But she was itching to cook, so she slipped from under Bret’s arm and reached for her ivory silk robe.
She made a stop in the bathroom to freshen up and surveyed the damage. The bathmat was still on the floor, squishy wet. The shower curtain was pulled back so it hadn’t dried properly. His and her clothes littered the floor. She quickly straightened everything and went to the kitchen to survey her refrigerator. She wasn’t a gourmet cook, but could handle the basics—bacon, eggs, and waffles. Confirming she had the ingredients made her smile in anticipation of his smile, his kiss, maybe another round of lovemaking.
Humming, she took out her waffle iron and plugged it in, mixing the batter. She was separating the bacon onto the frying pan when she heard a knock at her front door. Glancing at the stove clock, she confirmed it was still before eight a.m.
Who could that possibly be?
She wiped her hands on a towel and went to the door, checking through the side window before she opened it.
Her father stood tapping his newspaper against his hand. He waved at her in greeting.
Her heart stalled.
Bret’s truck was out front in p
lain view. What now?
Act like an adult, that’s what. Like an adult who was in love and responsible for her own choices.
She flipped off the lock and opened the door. “Dad!”
Her father pulled her into his arms and gave her a tight hug. His after shave and closeness took her back to when she was little and used to love sitting on his lap in the early morning hours at the kitchen table before anyone else was awake. They’d share cereal and talk about everything.
He pulled back and looked at her. “Wanted to see for myself that you’re okay.”
“I am.” She hoped that was all he had to say and that he’d turn and go. Her wish was not to be.
He walked into the kitchen, his entire body stiff and proper, and dropped his newspaper on the table. “Where is Bret?”
Bret entered the doorway. He’d heard the knock and slipped to the bathroom and into his jeans. He straightened his navy EFPD T-shirt and pulled it over his head. His feet were bare—no time for shoes. His hair was messed and trepidation filled him. He’d rather face a loaded gun. He gave Meg a half-smile, but his eyes never left her father.
“Right here, sir.”
“I think we should go outside and talk.” Bill pointed to the door and moved that direction.
“Fine by me.” He started to follow.
She stepped between them. Bret stopped in his tracks to keep from running into her.
She glared at her father first, then turned her displeasure on him. “It’s not fine by me. You are not going to go outside and talk about something that involves me, either one of you.”
“This is how it’s done.” Her father’s mouth was set in stubborn lines. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but I’m still your father and I want some answers.”
“Meg, I can handle it.” Bret touched her arm.
She stepped forward onto his foot, grinding with her heel. “No.”
He winced, but didn’t draw away.
She smiled sweetly. “I’ll get you some coffee. Dad, you want some?”
Her father glared at her. “The whole family may be matchmaking, but I’m not. I have a right, as your father, to ask a few questions.”
Echo Falls, Texas Boxed Set Page 37