Not Without Risk

by Sarah Grimm

  The anguish in Paige’s voice damn near broke him. “It’s over, Preston. You can still get out of here with your life if you release her.”

  Rick Preston laughed.

  Justin’s left arm went numb. Panic reared up inside him.

  “It’s time, P.C.”

  “No! Oh, God, no.”

  “Tell him you love him so we can end this.” He lowered the pitch of his voice, but Justin heard him just the same. “Tell him, P.C. Don’t you want him to know before he dies?”

  Justin readied his grip on his Glock, careful to keep his gaze off Paige’s ashen face.

  “Please, Rick. Don’t do this.”

  With a tug on her hair hard enough to cause Paige to cry out, Preston snarled, “Tell him! Say it, P.C.!”

  “I love him.”

  Three words. Three little words were all it took for him to forget himself and shift his attention to Paige. He looked at her, directly at her, and his heart stopped. The cut above her eye had been reopened. A slow trickle of blood ran down her temple to the bruise forming on her left cheek. Fear and resignation swam in her eyes.

  Justin caught a glimpse of his future as she softly repeated, “I love him.”

  His heart pounded hard. His lungs couldn’t take in enough oxygen.

  It was in that moment of distraction, while lost in her eyes, that Preston did what Justin had been trying to get him to do all along. He turned the Beretta away from Paige and aimed it directly at Justin’s chest.

  “No!”

  Paige screamed. She lurched in his direction, her sudden movement pulling Preston off balance.

  Justin barely registered the shock of pain that coincided with the echo of a gunshot. Seeing his chance, he squeezed the trigger.

  From behind the kitchen door, Brennan lunged, catching Preston in the side and sending them both to the floor. Caught together in a violent tangle they rolled out of sight behind the couch.

  A cold sweat of fear misted Justin’s skin while on the floor Paige struggled to get to her feet. Fighting against the restraint securing her hands tightly behind her back, her legs nearly went out from under her once before she regained her footing.

  He catalogued each of her injuries in turn. She was all right. Hurt, but alive. A rush of weakness swept over him. White-hot fire seared his chest. Confused, he reached up and fingered the hole in his shirt.

  “Justin?”

  Pain and exhaustion destroyed his ability to stay upright and he sagged against the wall and sank to the floor.

  “No!” Paige cried out. She skirted the couch, moved past the steady stream of cursing and the wet sound of fists making contact with flesh. “Justin!”

  He grunted in pain when she dropped to her knees at his side and promptly lost her balance, falling against his chest. Mind numbing agony washed over him. He blinked to bring her into focus. Her face was pale, her cheeks wet with a mixture of tears and blood.

  “Did he hit you?”

  Coldness slammed in from all sides.

  “Answer me, Justin. Are you hurt?” She glanced down at him then yelled over her shoulder. “Help me!” Tears ran down her face. Sobs tore from the back of her throat as she struggled to free herself. “Help me! Somebody, help me.”

  Brennan suddenly appeared behind her. “Cut me loose! He needs help. Justin needs help.”

  “Ambulance is on the way,” Brennan supplied, producing a jackknife from his pocket and using it to saw the binding that secured her wrists.

  “Preston?” Justin managed to ask as pain grabbed him by the throat.

  “Out cold and immobilized. He’s got an entry wound in his shoulder that will need tending.”

  “Don’t do this,” Paige pleaded. “Damn you, Justin, don’t do this to me.” Tears continued to course down her face. She tore at his shirt. Pleading and mumbling words he didn’t catch.

  “Paige.” Her wrists were bleeding, her cheek already turning purple. He’d promised to stop Preston before he hurt her. He’d failed.

  “Are you shot? Where are you shot?” Her hands continued to move over him, struggling against the buttons of his shirt.

  Justin couldn’t catch his breath. Darkness pulled at him. Through the haze of pain, he managed to lift his hand to Paige’s uninjured cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paige paced the hospital corridor. Two hours had passed since Justin was shot. Two hours, and her body had yet to cease trembling.

  She knew it would be a long time before she forgot the sound of Rick’s Beretta. Before she shook off the terror of watching Justin stagger, jerk as the bullets struck. Of struggling against fear and his shirt as she searched for an entrance wound and instead uncovered a bulletproof vest.

  She didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to him had he not been wearing that vest.

  Her stomach abruptly knotted. Tears filled her eyes. She closed them and concentrated on calming her nerves. Rick’s bullet had struck Justin’s chest high on the left side, disturbingly close to the scar he bore on his shoulder. The force of the impact re-broke his ribs, but the Kevlar had done its job and stopped the slug from penetrating his skin. With time, ribs healed, bruises faded.

  Because of his own foresight, Justin had that time.

  It’s over, she assured herself as she opened her eyes and stared at the closed door before her. It’s over, and with time, Justin would be fine.

  Yet her body continued to tremble, her hands to shake. A hard knot remained firmly in her stomach.

  The waiting room down the hall was occupied by about a dozen people just like her. Friends and family anxious to see Justin with their own eyes, to hear him say, with his own lips, that he was okay. Paige had stayed in that room, surrounded by his friends and co-workers for as long as she could stand it, but the drone of conversation eventually drove her out into the corridor. Where she waited, chest aching as if it were splitting open.

  His close call with death this afternoon made her realize life was too short to fear tomorrow. She’d wasted too much time already, worrying about repeating the mistakes of her past. Afraid of the intensity of her feelings for Justin.

  She loved him. The relatively short period of time they’d known each other didn’t matter. Paige was in love with Justin. And even if he never returned her love, she planned to tell him. He deserved to know how she felt, that he was loved by her. She needed to tell him, without force or coercion.

  Without the hard press of a Beretta against her midsection.

  She shivered. Mindful of her throbbing cheek, she pressed her fingers to her eyes and leaned against the wall. If she didn’t get into that room soon…

  As she struggled to pull herself under control, the door swung open and a dour-faced nurse slipped into the corridor. She passed without so much as a glance, her rubber-soled shoes silent on the linoleum.

  Unable to wait any longer, Paige barreled down the hall, pushed through the door and stepped into the room. She stopped short.

  For just a moment she stood there, heart in her throat, reeling. Unable to do more than stare as Justin stood at the side of the examination table and struggled to wrestle his arms into his shirt.

  Her body ached all over. Her head throbbed. Her wrists burned. But she couldn’t possibly feel as bad as he must feel. Lines of pain creased his forehead and fanned out from his eyes. A soft sound of dismay slipped free at the colors of the bruise peeking out the top of the bandage wrapped around his ribs.

  His head came up. “Paige.”

  He spoke her name as if he’d been as anxious to see her as she’d been to see him. He locked his gaze on her as she crossed to stand beside him.

  “Need some help?” Without waiting for his answer, she reached out and took hold of the shirt. He dropped his hands to his sides and allowed her to take over the task.

  Paige moved behind him, holding the button front shirt open so he could slip his arms into the sleeves with as little discomfort as possible. She eased the
material up his arms, circled to his front and began working the buttons through their corresponding holes.

  “Are you all right?” Justin asked quietly as he lifted his right hand and trailed his fingers lightly across the gauze covering her wrists.

  “I’m fine,” she answered, her voice not as strong as she would have liked. “However, I think that is a question I should be asking you.”

  His warm, gentle hand cupped the side of her face where the purplish bruise had formed. His eyes darkened. “I’m sorry, Paige.”

  The lump in her throat tightened. She stiffened her spine and struggled to hang onto control. “That’s the second time today you’ve apologized to me. Why are you sorry, Justin?”

  “He hurt you.” The fingers against her cheek trembled. “I promised I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”

  “Yes, he did,” she agreed and he flinched. “Not you, Justin, Rick. Rick hurt me.”

  She listened to his carefully indrawn breaths. Noticed he’d already stuffed his left hand into his pocket against the ache in his side. Her gaze trailed over the dark bruise peeking out the top of his wrappings and tears welled in her eyes. “He hurt you, too.”

  “Paige…God, Paige, don’t cry.” He slid his free hand to the back of her head and urged her closer. She went willingly, gingerly into his arms. “Please don’t cry.”

  “When I saw you slide down that wall…” Her throat closed hard. “I’ve never been so scared. I thought you were going to die. I couldn’t stand it.”

  Carefully, she slid her hand up his back and settled against him. Closed her eyes and sighed when his arm slipped around her and he pressed a kiss to her temple before burying his face in her hair.

  “It’s over now.”

  “I knew he planned to kill you and I was helpless to stop him. I believe he meant to kill me, too, but only after I watched you die.” After he’d caused her as much pain as possible by forcing her to say good-bye to the man she loved.

  Rick’s insistence that she proclaim her love for Justin had not been a final act of decency, but a move made to make what he perceived as the last few moments of their lives excruciating. Maybe it was some twisted form of jealousy, there’d been something in his voice when he told her she should have stayed away from Justin, or perhaps it was just ego. That she would dare get over him and move on. Something made even more insulting by the fact that she’d moved on with another cop.

  Who knew? Paige figured she never would.

  Justin held her away from him, brushed his thumb down her unblemished cheek. “Brennan waited in the kitchen. Even if Preston had taken me out, he would have been stopped before he could shoot you, too.”

  “The man who cut me loose? He’s the real Detective Brennan?”

  “You don’t sound surprised. Did you know Preston was going around claiming to be Brennan?”

  “Yes.” She smoothed her hand down his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart beat steady and sure. “When Rick came by, supposedly to find you, that’s how he identified himself.”

  “By doing so, he thought you might open the door to him.”

  “I think so. He didn’t know I’d already spoken with the real Detective Brennan and told him where he could find you.” Her eyes drifted shut when he smoothed his palm down her hair. “What happens next, Justin?”

  She was almost afraid to ask.

  “I’ve got the next week off. I guess after that I’ll be riding a desk. At least for a while.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “A few days off with pay is standard after an officer-involved shooting. I have a few more because of the ribs. This time I’ll take my time getting back. Take things slowly.”

  “Actually, I meant what happens next for us,” she admitted quietly. “I won’t walk away from you. That might not be what you want to hear, but I’m going to be hanging around.” She was stronger now, no longer afraid of his job. And Justin, he was nothing like…

  Paige pushed the thought aside. She wouldn’t think of Rick now. Of the pain of living with him, losing him, and then finding out it had all been a lie. All of it. To do so wouldn’t be fair to Justin, because Justin was real. He didn’t lie. Even when the truth was painful to hear, he’d given it to her.

  “I’m not walking away from you,” she repeated.

  “If you did,” he said fiercely. “I would follow you.”

  Surprise rendered her mute.

  “Paige.” His hand moved to her chin, tipped her face up. “There’s something I need to know if you can deal with.”

  She didn’t know how she remained standing. Her body trembled, her heart pounded so hard she thought it would dance right out of her chest. “What is it?”

  “I’m in love with you.”

  The simple statement hit her hard. Everything inside her went still. The chill left her body, chased away by the warmth of his gaze, the warm emotion behind his words.

  “I love you, Paige. I didn’t think it was possible, never believed I would find it. Then I met you.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “But you said—”

  “I was a fool. I made a huge mistake telling you I didn’t want a relationship with you. I do.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Before you came into my life, being a cop meant everything to me. It’s who I was, all that I was. You showed me I could be more than that. You showed me I have worth other than the job.”

  “Of course you do,” she argued, angry that he could think otherwise.

  “Before you I was half alive. Too afraid to risk, too afraid of getting hurt.” His voice dropped an octave. “If you take me, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. There will always be things I can’t share with you, things that have to remain confidential. But I promise you, no secrets or deception.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been.”

  He winced a bit as he slid his left hand out of his pocket and raised it, gently framing her face between both hands. “I’m saying I love you. More than I believed possible.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, just to the side of her stitches. “You said you loved me. Tell me again, Paige. Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you, Justin.”

  He gave her a broad, heart-stopping smile just before his mouth took hers in a slow, deep kiss. “Enough to spend your life with me?”

  “Are you asking me to marry you? We barely know each other.”

  “I know I love you, the rest is just pillow talk.” He pulled her tighter against him, until she could no longer tell where he ended and she began. “Marriage, a family, I want it all.”

  “That’s good,” she said, looking deeply into his dark brown eyes and seeing her future shining back. “Because I’m an all or nothing kind of woman.”

  About the Author

  As a young girl Sarah Grimm always had a story to tell. At times they were funny, other times scary, but they always ended with a happily-ever-after. Sarah spent years scribbling in notebooks, filling the pages with partial chapters and the margins with titles and story ideas. She told friends the characters spoke to her, and that she was compelled to get their stories on paper. Eventually, she sat down at a computer and wrote her first tale of dangerously sexy suspense.