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Emergency Response
Susan Sleeman


DESIGNATED TARGETOn her way to visit a little girl she recently helped save, paramedic Darcie Stephens is attacked by a stranger dead set on killing her. She escapes unscathed when detective Noah Lockhart comes to her rescue, but an officer finds a hit list dropped by the assailant—and her name’s next.Now with an assassin constantly on their heels, Darcie and Noah must uncover why somebody wants her dead. Noah fights hard to protect Darcie, but she’s determined to keep the cop at arm’s length. After all she’s lost, she’s afraid to love again, especially a handsome lawman with a guarded heart. And a murderer doesn’t plan to let Darcie live long enough for any second chances.First Responders: Brave men and women alert and ready for danger and love.







DESIGNATED TARGET

On her way to visit a little girl she recently helped save, paramedic Darcie Stephens is attacked by a stranger dead-set on killing her. She escapes unscathed when detective Noah Lockhart comes to her rescue, but an officer finds a hit list dropped by the assailant—and Darcie’s name is next. Now with an assassin constantly on their heels, Darcie and Noah must uncover why somebody wants her dead. Noah fights hard to protect Darcie, but she’s determined to keep the cop at arm’s length. After all she’s lost, she’s afraid to love again, especially a handsome lawman with a guarded heart. And a murderer doesn’t plan to let Darcie live long enough for any second chances.

First Responders: Brave men and women alert and ready for danger and love


“You’re safe, Darcie,” Noah said.

Was she? Would this creep think she could identify him and come looking for her? Come after her with his gun, or even worse, try to strangle her again?

A full-on shudder claimed Darcie’s body, and despite her efforts to fight back her tears, they started flowing. She tried to stop them, willed them away, but to no avail.

“Aw, no. Don’t cry.” Noah’s arms went around her, and he drew her close.

She needed him. Just now. Not later. Never again. Just now.

He cradled her head and held her. She allowed herself a few more moments to take in the warmth and ease the chill from her heart, but when her tears fully subsided, she couldn’t find an excuse to stay in his arms, so she eased free and looked up at him.

“Better?” he asked, his gaze tender as he pressed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

She didn’t know how to reply, and silence hung heavy in the air. She didn’t want to admit that outside his arms she felt afraid.

If she did, he would feel a need to protect her, and that wouldn’t be good for either of them.


SUSAN SLEEMAN is a bestselling author of inspirational and clean-read romantic suspense books and mysteries. She received an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award for Thread of Suspicion; No Way Out and The Christmas Witness were finalists for the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence. She’s had the pleasure of living in nine states and currently lives in Oregon. To learn more about Susan, visit her website at susansleeman.com (http://www.susansleeman.com).




Emergency Response

Susan Sleeman





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace

as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope

by the power of the Holy Spirit.

—Romans 15:13


For my wonderful daughters, Erin and Emma.

As I wrote this book about parental loss, I was constantly reminded of what amazing daughters you are and that

I am so blessed that God has put you both in my life.


Contents

Cover (#u9736f65f-3fd6-55dc-b2ca-6ca5e3db49c6)

Back Cover Text (#ua1bfb3e2-df12-5306-a450-b640fd137172)

Introduction (#u960f1871-60a3-5e65-82b0-15f32c98845a)

About the Author (#u9f0042c9-0d4b-500f-9d7a-936565a64b63)

Title Page (#ub73c4508-c6a4-5b2e-ad04-a363ed13f6b2)

Bible Verse (#ub3857a9d-0f5f-56b1-8a53-4e045fa3bb21)

Dedication (#u17d6fee0-b0e8-565d-91b5-7de532b0de95)

ONE (#u85560952-2b56-52f3-9bdc-8a981edd09b7)

TWO (#u1165df92-ad66-5563-abe0-56023928298b)

THREE (#u2a5b14fa-354e-51c1-8011-df3db83521e9)

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Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

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ONE (#ulink_6e3c9ed0-184b-5bd1-86ad-b43d44f63b72)

Can’t breathe. Must breathe.

“No.” Darcie Stevens clawed at the beefy arm circling her neck like a hangman’s noose, her fingernails raking over her attacker’s fleshy arm.

Scratching. Ripping. Drawing blood.

It didn’t deter him. He tightened his grip, cutting off the last of her breath. “Give it up. You won’t win.”

She worked harder to release the pressure on her windpipe. Struggled for oxygen. Any. Even the tiniest sip of cold February air. Found none.

Her vision blurred and she blinked hard.

No! Please, no!

Was this the end? Desperation set in. She had to try harder.

She elbowed his gut. One hard, firm jab to the midsection, her elbow sinking into his stomach.

He didn’t move except to constrict his arm and draw her back more tightly against his flabby body. She felt a gun tucked into his belt pressing against her back.

No. No. No.

Did he plan to shoot her if he failed to choke her? She had to get away before he drew the weapon. But how?

Her shoes. Yes, her boots had spiky heels. They could do some serious damage. She stomped on his foot, grinding, pressing, digging for concrete.

“Uhhh,” he grunted. His arm relaxed a fraction.

Yes!

She pressed her hands together like a diver and shot them up under his arm, pushing with all of her strength. Widening the gap.

One final push. She gave it her all and broke free. She gulped air and didn’t waste time waiting to see what he might do, but took off down the sidewalk. Her steps, halting at first as she dragged in enough oxygen to pick up speed.

He followed her, the sound of his heavy footfalls reverberating in her ears. Her lungs were heaving with exertion. Her body begged to stop. To rest.

No. I can’t let him catch me. If he does...

She wouldn’t let that happen.

Please help me to go on.

Rain started to fall, pelting her face, soaking through her jacket. The moss-covered sidewalk threatened to take her feet out from under her. She focused on her shoes.

Careful now, one foot in front of the other.

She was making progress, but so was he. She could hear him coming closer. Closer. Step by step. Each footfall sounding like thunder in her ears.

The wind rushed past, carrying the echo of his heavy footsteps and masking his location. Could he have closed the distance? Was he readying himself to attack again? But why was he targeting her? What did he want? She didn’t live in this part of town. He likely didn’t even know her.

Was this attack random, like the woman who was mugged just down the street last week? A gang member had beaten her badly and she was still fighting for life. Was that this man’s plan, too? Was he simply trying to subdue her then rob her?

Darcie couldn’t let that happen. She churned her legs faster, harder. Her lungs screamed for relief. She couldn’t think about that. She forced her concentration onto the rhythm of her feet.

Step. Step. Step.

Faster. Faster, she moved.

She risked a glance back. She had a small lead.

Thank You, God.

She took another quick look at her attacker, searching for details she could tell the police.

He was tall. Thick. Beefy. His skin was dark—Latino, she guessed. She returned her focus to her stride. She was running out of breath and slowing. He was panting hard, but he could still catch her.

Help me, God. Please. Help me.

The thudding footfalls suddenly stopped. Had he given up? Had she succeeded in tiring him out? Had God intervened?

Relief surged through her body, but she kept going. She had to. She wasn’t safe yet.

A gunshot suddenly broke the quiet. A bullet slammed into the tree in the median. Wood fragments splintered and peppered her face. She closed her eyes for protection. Caught a toe in the cracked sidewalk. Plummeted to the concrete.

Oomph. She landed hard.

The rough surface ripped the skin from her palms and split the knees of her pants. She stayed on the ground, dazed for a moment, her brain a jumbled mess.

Another bullet bit into the concrete near her head. A jagged shard sliced into her neck. She cried out and protected her head with her hands. Her heart stuttered, feeling like it might stop, but she wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up. Couldn’t just lay there knowing the next bullet would hit the mark.

But what could she do? She couldn’t outrun a bullet.

Hide. She had to find a place to hide.

She pushed to her feet, started running again and searched the street. Run-down houses with peeling paint and weed-infested yards greeted her. No telling who lived in these houses, but she’d be safer inside. Or maybe someone would come out and help her if she pounded on a door.

Yeah, right. Not in this gang-infested neighborhood.

A bullet whizzed past her shoulder.

She glanced down the street. She could see her destination up ahead. Pilar’s house. She was almost there. Could she make it before this creep shot her in the back?

Another bullet zipped past her shoulder.

She had to try. She kept going and hunched her shoulders to make herself a smaller target. Just a little ways to go and she’d reach Pilar’s walkway where she could race inside to safety.

Shots kept flying.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

He was shooting like a madman, not even pausing to aim. She had to take cover. Now!

She dove behind a large utility box and curled into a ball. Sucking in air. Blowing it out. Thoughts zinging through her mind as fast as the bullets flying overhead.

What could she do?

Think, Darcie, think.

Help. She needed help. Her teammates on the First Response Squad would know what to do. They were all trained law enforcement professionals, but not her. She was the team’s paramedic and the only one without law enforcement credentials. Unfortunately, they couldn’t get across town in time.

Noah. She could call Noah. He was already on his way to meet her at Pilar’s house to talk to her about sweet little Isabel. As a homicide detective, he’d know what to do. He had to.

Darcie clawed through her purse until she grasped her phone. Her hands shook, blurring the screen, but she managed to press Noah’s number.

“Lockhart,” he answered.

“A man tried to strangle me,” she managed to get out. “He’s chasing after me now. He has a gun.”

“Where are you?” Noah’s voice was reassuringly cool and controlled.

“Behind a utility box close to Isabel’s house.”

The sound of her assailant’s boots beating down the sidewalk drew her attention. She came to her knees. Peeked over the box. He was running toward her, his gun in his hand.

He spotted her. Paused. Lifted the gun. He fired. She ducked. The bullet flew overhead.

“Noah, he’s shooting at me.” She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them.

“I’m about a mile out,” Noah said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, but you’ll have to hold him off until I get there.” The sound of Noah’s siren coming to life filtered over the phone.

She wished she could hear it wailing down the street instead. “I—I—”

“You have a gun, Darcie. Use it.”

“Shoot him?” Her? Fire a gun at someone? She was a paramedic—she treated gunshot wounds, she didn’t cause them. Sure, she carried. She had to. Her FRS teammates insisted on it, and they’d taught her how to fire a gun, but they were always around so she never thought she’d actually have to use it. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Get it out, Darcie.”

“I—”

“Do as I say, Darcie,” Noah commanded. “No excuses. Put your hand in your purse and grab that gun. Now!”

His sharp voice broke her reluctance. She sat up, slid her trembling hand into the bag, finding the cool metal and curling her fingers around the grip.

“Got it.” She lifted it out. Her heart kicked hard against the wall of her chest. The gun in her hand trembled.

Oh, God, please no.

“Noah, I can’t shoot him,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yes, you can. You have to. I—” His voice was cut off. She looked at her phone.

The call had disconnected. Most likely the signal had dropped—a common problem in this hilly neighborhood.

She was on her own again.

Her assailant’s boots slapped the sidewalk.

Close now. Insistent. Threatening.

Thump...thump...thump.

He reached the box.

She dropped the phone. Lifted the gun. Held it out. The cold metal was foreign to her hands.

She raised it higher. Stretched out arms that felt limp, like a rubber hose.

“Oh, God, please,” she begged, her heart in her throat. “Please don’t make me shoot him.”

* * *

Noah glanced at his phone. Call dropped. He’d lost Darcie. No surprise. He’d had problems with bad signals in this neighborhood before.

He slammed a fist into the wheel, his mind racing to find a way to help her. But maybe it was better this way. He could respond without having to split his concentration.

Right, better! How was it better not knowing if Darcie had managed to defend herself before some shooter took her out?

It wasn’t. But he couldn’t risk calling her back. Her ringing phone might give away her hiding spot, or distract her at the wrong moment.

He had to get to her, and fast.

He punched the gas. His sirens screamed and the light bar strobed in rhythm with his windshield wipers. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His pulse beat triple time as anxiety climbed up his back and threatened to swamp him.

Eight years as a police officer and he’d never felt such fear. But then, a woman he cared about had never been under fire. He couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to Darcie.

Father, please! Keep her safe. Let me arrive on time.

At the corner, he hung a hard right, the car hugging the curb and squealing. Onlookers watched from the sidewalk, but the road was clear of vehicles as a siren wailed from the south. Good, a patrol officer had responded to his radio call for backup and had arrived.

Noah rolled up on the scene moments later, taking in everything at once. The tired neighborhood. The shooter racing down the street, his weapon dangling from his hand. The lack of movement behind the utility box. The patrol officer bolting from his car in hot pursuit of the shooter.

Noah slid his vehicle in place next to the cruiser and forced himself to pause behind the door for safety as he thoroughly assessed the area. The air was heavy with tension as thick as the pounding rain. Dark and ominous skies hung overhead. A dog frantically barked in the background, the noise mixing with the wail of the sirens. The lone uniformed officer continued down the street, trailing the intruder, who was dressed in an oversize blue shirt and sagging jeans that looked like they might drop at any second. Noah made him as Latino, five-ten, two hundred and twenty-five pounds.

“Police. Stop,” the officer shouted, then his voice came over Noah’s radio as he reported to dispatch that he was on foot and needed backup.

Noah swung his gaze to additional patrol cars arriving from the other direction. The officers sprang from their cars and joined in the pursuit. The radio squawked with the first officer’s voice, telling the others to set up a perimeter, and their lieutenant instructed them to switch radio channels to prevent other traffic from interfering with communications.

With several officers in pursuit of the suspect, Noah was free to check on Darcie, but he wanted to keep up on the action so he quickly adjusted his radio. Holding his weapon in defensive mode, his senses on high alert, he headed for the utility box.

By the time he crossed the road, his jacket was soaked and water dripped from his hair. He swiped the moisture from his face and cautiously approached. The last thing he wanted was for Darcie to mistake him for her assailant and fire at him. Or even let a nervous finger jerk the trigger.

“Darcie,” he called out when he was still ten feet away. “It’s me. Noah. The shooter is gone. You can lower your gun now.”

She didn’t respond.

Was he too late? Had she been shot?

Closing the distance, his heart slammed against his chest. “Darcie, are you okay? Did you lower your gun?”

“Yes.” The barely audible word drifted over the box.

He nearly sagged with relief and stepped around the box. He found her slumped against the metal, her legs splayed out, her gun lying on her knees. Her chestnut hair hung wet and limp to her shoulders, and her usual smile was nowhere in sight. She stared ahead, her eyes vacant.

Her unfettered anguish stopped Noah cold. He’d had an awareness of Darcie for years, but neither of them was in a place for a relationship so he’d kept his interest to himself. But now, seeing her like this—emotionally ripped apart—it was all he could do not to wrap his arms around her and comfort her. The only thing stopping him was the certainty that she’d push him away.

“I’m going to take your gun now, Darcie,” he said to keep from startling her. He gently took the weapon, but she didn’t move. He clicked on the safety and shoved the gun into his belt. Still no reaction.

She was in shock. Not surprising after her ordeal.

He gently laid a hand on her arm to encourage her to look at him. “How are you doing?”

She didn’t bat an eye. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in shock and need medical care.”

She shifted to face him. “I’m the EMT here. I know what I need and I’ll be fine.” She fired him a testy look and started to rise.

Good. At least he’d gotten her to react, but he wasn’t letting her get up.

“Hold on.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “They’re still chasing down the suspect. We’ll wait here until he’s apprehended.”

Her eyes flew open, fear lurking in their depths. “Surely he won’t come back here.”

“With officers in pursuit, it’s not likely, but you never know. He could double back. Could even try to barricade himself in one of these houses.”

“Isabel,” Darcie cried out and shook off his hand. “She could be in danger. I have to protect her. This guy, I think he’s one of those gang members terrorizing the neighborhood. There might be others.”

As much as Noah hated to admit it, Darcie’s assessment was spot-on. In neighborhoods like this, gang members were like ants. Where there was one there were a bunch more. It meant Isabel and her grandmother, Pilar, were constantly in danger living here. In fact, he and Darcie had scheduled a meeting with Pilar today to discuss finding a safer place for the two of them to live. That would now have to wait until the immediate danger had passed.

Darcie started to rise. “I have to check on Isabel.”

Noah rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not a good idea to leave yet.”

Darcie shrugged free. “Good idea or not, Isabel’s in a wheelchair and I need to make sure she’s protected.”

His resolve wavered. Always did around Darcie. She had a heart the size of Texas—one of the things he admired about her—and she mothered everyone in her life. Though that had more to do with losing her child in a car accident a little over six years ago than anything. She would risk her own life in a heartbeat to make sure others were safe. He respected her for that, too. Along with her fierce personality that let no one get in her way. Like right now. If he didn’t escort her to Isabel’s house, Darcie would walk over there on her own.

He had no choice. She was staying under his protection until her attacker was apprehended. There was no question about that. None.

“Let me check things out first and then I’ll take you to the house.” He stood, keeping an eye on her for a moment to make sure she remained seated, and then made a careful survey of the area.

His radio squawked as one of the officers in pursuit reported his location about a mile north of their position and requested a lockdown of the nearby elementary school.

Now that Noah knew Darcie was okay, he wanted to get in on the action. He was a cop at heart. Had always wanted to be one, always would be one. And right now, he wanted to join his fellow officers in pursuit of a creep who’d terrified Darcie. To hunt him down, slap cuffs on him and toss him in the back of his car. Glare at him, too, and offer a few choice words for good measure. But at this moment, Darcie needed him more. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.

He turned back to her and swallowed his emotions. “We’re clear for now, but stay close to me. We’ll go straight to the house and inside. Got it?”

A wooden nod was her only reply.

“Remember—” he paused for emphasis and offered his hand to help her up “—this situation is volatile and could change at any moment. Your life is still in danger and you need to follow my directions, not only for your safety but for Isabel’s and Pilar’s welfare, too.”

Another stiff nod as she slid icy cold fingers into his hand. He tugged her to her feet and drew her close.

She winced and jerked free.

“You okay?” he asked, wondering if he’d hurt her, or if she just didn’t want him to touch her.

She held up her palm. “I scraped my hands and knees when I fell.”

Hot anger flared at the raw skin, but he swallowed it down as he’d done on the job countless times. “I know you can treat the abrasions yourself, but you could have other injuries that shock or adrenaline are masking. It’s best to get you checked out by a medic.”

She frowned. “Isabel and Pilar are far more important right now than spending time on a scrape.”

She was right, but he’d still arrange for the medic. He urged her forward with an arm around her back. Her body trembled, sending his thoughts to the man dressed in blue. The thug who’d terrorized her. Her fear as she crouched in the rain waiting for him to kill her.

Noah’s anger fired hotter. Once they found the shooter, Noah would make sure the creep paid for hurting her. “Did you recognize the man who attacked you?”

“No,” she whispered. “But I can describe him.”

“Great. If we aren’t able to apprehend him today, we can get a sketch made.”

She shot him a pained look. “Not apprehend him?”

“Hopefully that won’t happen. Our officers are doing everything they can to catch him.”

“I know.”

“Do you have no idea why he attacked you?”

She shook her head hard, sending her ponytail softly whispering over his neck. “I figure it was just another random attack. You know. Like last week when that woman was mugged down the street.”

When she was beaten within an inch of her life. He kept the last bit to himself so he didn’t raise Darcie’s apprehension. That and to stop his mind from wandering to the dire consequences if he hadn’t been able to get a uniform here so quickly.

They started forward and he drew his weapon again for good measure. He pulled her closer. At five-nine—more like five-eleven today, in her heeled boots—she was only a few inches shorter than him. Her stride fell nicely into step with his and he caught a whiff of her fruity, tropical perfume. She’d worn the same scent since he’d first met her six years ago, when she’d joined the county’s First Response Squad.

As a detective for the Portland Police Bureau, Noah didn’t interact with the squad often, but he’d worked with them enough that he’d gotten to know everyone on the team.

Six members strong, they were all sworn deputies except Darcie. They performed regular law enforcement duties most of the time, but when they were needed in special crisis situations, they came together as a team. One specialized in bombs, another was a sniper, two of them were hostage negotiators and the last was the team leader. Darcie rounded out the team to provide medical support.

“Suspect’s on the move. Going over the fence.” The officer’s voice came over Noah’s radio, startling Darcie.

Noah hugged her tighter and sped up. In a daze, she trudged alongside him. He felt like he was dragging her—maybe causing her pain. He hated the thought, but if that’s what it took to get her safely inside, he’d do so.

They started up the walkway to the dilapidated bungalow Pilar rented from a slumlord who didn’t care much about maintaining his property. Pilar kept it clean and tidy, but there was only so much she could do when the landlord never made necessary repairs. To make things worse, the cracking paint and crumbling cement walkways were decorated with graffiti and broken glass. Nearby neighborhoods were seeing rebirth, but the revitalization hadn’t reached this street. The area was home to gang activities, which meant drugs and violence.

Darcie suddenly jerked back and pointed at the house. “Look. Bullet holes.”

Noah spotted three punctures in the wall near the living room window. Likely stray bullets from the shooter’s attack. His adrenaline fired higher. He moved Darcie behind his back and searched the area again.

The door suddenly swung open and he spun, gun pointed. Pilar’s dark eyes, below scraped-back hair, widened and she took a step back.

Noah huffed out a relieved breath and hurried Darcie up the walkway. Pilar stood waiting, a towel wrapped around her arm. Blood seeped through the worn yellow fabric.

“Your arm.” Darcie shot out from under his protection. “What happened?”

“A bullet...it came through the wall.”

“Isabel?” Darcie’s voice was deadly calm, but her eyes were wild with terror.

“She is fine. Hiding under her bed.”

Darcie sighed out a breath and peered at Pilar. “Let me take a look at your arm.”

Pilar lifted her hand and grimaced. “The bleeding has stopped.”

“I still need—”

“Let’s take this inside,” Noah interrupted.

“But the sirens...the gunshots stopped after the police cars arrived. Aren’t we safe now?” Pilar’s hand shook as she supported her injured arm and backed inside. “What is going on? Is it another gang shooting?”

“I don’t know the full details, but while the officers have everything under control, it’s still safer to stay inside.” Noah smiled again, putting on the officer persona he used to keep people calm in challenging situations. “Let’s have Darcie check out your arm, and then we’ll work on getting more details.”

Pilar smiled, but it was forced. “You’re both wet and must be freezing. I’ll get some towels before you catch your death.”

“Seriously, Pilar? You’ve been shot,” Darcie reprimanded. “You’ll sit down and let me tend to the wound.” Darcie gently prodded Pilar toward a worn armchair in the corner.

Noah took one last look outside, running his gaze up and down the road. Satisfied the women were safe for now, he closed and bolted the door. Double-checked it and glanced out the window for added measure. By the time he crossed the room, Darcie had settled Pilar in the chair. Darcie looked up at Noah, her focus clear once again. She’d shifted into rescuer mode, and with Pilar as a patient, Darcie could turn her focus outward. Maybe overcome her own shock.

“Can you check on Isabel?” she asked.

He really didn’t want to leave the front of the house, but someone had to retrieve the little girl. He nodded, then headed for the bedroom and turned down the volume on his radio to keep from worrying the six-year-old.

Her room, the size of a walk-in closet, held a twin bed with a woven blanket and a painted nightstand topped with a multicolored lamp. The small wheelchair Darcie had secured for Isabel after Isabel had been injured on a callout sat empty by the bed.

He hadn’t been at the incident but he’d heard a report that Isabel was living in deplorable conditions with her mother, Mayte. A social worker had come to the apartment to remove Isabel, but Mayte, high on drugs, had refused to hand over her daughter. A standoff occurred and the FRS responded. There was some concern about Isabel’s health, so Darcie went in with Archer, one of their negotiators. His job had been to talk Mayte down, while Darcie’s had been to make sure Isabel was okay. But Mayte clutched Isabel and backed onto an unsafe deck. The railing gave way and Mayte plunged two stories.

Darcie darted forward in time to catch hold of Isabel’s calf and keep her from falling, but the wrenching motion injured Isabel’s knee badly enough to require surgery. Mayte suffered a serious concussion. The good news was that the head injury kept her in the hospital long enough to go into drug withdrawal and to agree to rehab.

Now Isabel was once again in another traumatizing situation. The poor kid. She’d seen so much at her tender age. Way too much.

“Isabel, it’s Noah,” he announced to keep from scaring her even more as he stepped into the room. “It’s safe to come out now. I’m going to help you into your chair.”

He knelt by the bed and peeked underneath. Despite her living conditions or her recent accident, Isabel always had a big smile, and she flashed white teeth with a wide gap in the top.

“Hi, princess,” Noah said.

“Abuelita put me here.” Her smile faltered. “I was worried.”

“Don’t worry. Everything’s okay.” He reached under the bed and maneuvered her free, being careful not to bang her injured leg. He curled her into his arms and gave her a hug. She looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Abuelita got hurt.”

“I know,” he said, trying to play it down. “Darcie’s taking good care of her.”

“I thought maybe—” She shook her head and frowned. “You and Darcie weren’t coming. Or you got hurt. Like that lady last week.”

“No need to worry about that, princess. We’re all just fine. And your grandmother will be fine, too.” The vehemence in Noah’s voice made her smile disappear. He didn’t mean to sound so intense, but come on. No child should have their life invaded by man’s brutality. “Let’s go see Darcie, okay?”

“Yes, please.” Isabel’s face lit up and Noah’s heart melted. There was something about this urchin that made him happy. If she survived all this trauma and still smiled, he should be able to do the same thing in his own life.

He settled her into the wheelchair and pushed her to the living room. Darcie ran her gaze over Isabel with a trained medical professional’s eyes.

“Noah said you were here, but you really are,” Isabel said, and smiled.

“Hold tight to the towel,” Darcie ordered Pilar, then crossed over to Isabel.

Darcie squatted by the chair, and Noah saw her wince before she hid it. Her injuries bothered her more than she let on. She offered Isabel a beaming smile that utterly captivated Noah. In a situation that wasn’t as dire as this one, he would...would what?

Do nothing. Exactly what he needed to do. What he’d done for years.

On the day he’d met Darcie, one look at her hit him like a battering ram, but he’d done nothing about it—would do nothing about it, other than swallowing down his feelings and acting professionally whenever he ran in to her.

Her smile widened even more and Noah had to step back to get a grip.

Concentrate, man. Concentrate. She’s just a victim and this is just another callout. Do your job.

“Don’t you know by now that nothing would keep me away from seeing you?” Darcie asked Isabel.

She flung tiny arms around Darcie’s neck. The child clung to Darcie as if she was her mother. With Mayte in rehab since her accident, Isabel had transferred her need for motherly love to Darcie. He wasn’t surprised that Darcie hadn’t been able to resist loving Isabel. Still, if Darcie realized how invested she’d become in Isabel’s well-being, Darcie would shut down as she had since she lost her daughter. She avoided getting too close to anyone to avoid getting hurt.

Noah got that. He’d lost a son, too. Not to death, but to distance. He’d bailed on his pregnant girlfriend Ashley in college. Stupid move. But he was young and could barely get to class on time. How could he be responsible for a son?

He regretted it now. Every day. So he totally understood the wall Darcie put up to keep from caring and getting hurt again.

The hug ended and Darcie stood up.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked her and tipped his head at the far side of the room.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance for Pilar or have you already done so?” he asked when he couldn’t be overheard.

“I have. They’re on the way.”

“Good. So will you be okay if I head outside to check on the action?”

A pained smile crossed her face, but she nodded anyway.

“Don’t worry,” he added. “I’ll stay within view of the house. If you need me you can call out.”

She gave just the barest hint of a nod as she grabbed his hand. Her still cold fingers squeezed weakly. “Thank you, Noah. For being here for us.”

“It’s what I do,” he said and ignored how his heart warmed at her gratitude. “Lock the door behind me and stay away from the windows.”

“You are leaving us?” Pilar cried out.

“It’s okay,” Darcie replied. “He’ll be right outside and the danger has passed.”

Noah nodded his agreement. Darcie’s comment was technically true. The danger had passed. For now.

Only for now.

Darcie had gotten a good look at the creep who’d attacked her and could identify him. The man had to realize that as well. He had no qualms about attacking a woman, so if he evaded the officers today, he’d be more than happy to come after her again.

And the next time the creep got to her, Noah feared he’d succeed in silencing her for good.


TWO (#ulink_3fd74530-c385-50e1-8060-459e7fe82709)

Darcie couldn’t quit shaking. Not from the chill in Pilar’s hospital room, but from the memory of the attack. It would be a long time before she could forget about the crushing arm that had come around her neck. The bullets whizzing past. Even if she could forget, her neck throbbed and her knees and hands stung from the abrasions. Despite Noah’s continued insistence that she needed medical attention, she’d tended to her own injuries while Pilar was in surgery for a repair to her shattered ulna.

Darcie tugged the collar on her shirt higher to hide the purpling marks from the attack. She would hate for the ugly bruises to scare Isabel or Pilar even more. Pilar was already staring at Darcie, her eyebrows in bushy arcs. She made the sign of the cross on her chest while mumbling something in Spanish. Darcie didn’t speak Spanish, but she knew the sweet woman was praying for her.

That wasn’t new. Pilar always offered up prayers for Darcie. It seemed odd that Pilar—a woman who had very little in life and had so many needs of her own to pray for—felt compelled to pray for her. It made Darcie uncomfortable to have someone treading on the edges of her personal life.

Needing a distraction for Pilar, Darcie spotted her iPad lying on the bedside table. Pilar worked from home and when her computer died a few weeks ago, Pilar had borrowed Darcie’s iPad. As the EMTs wheeled her out of her home, she’d insisted on bringing the iPad with her, enabling her to work tonight.

Darcie tapped the screen. “Is the job still going well?”

The corner of Pilar’s mouth tipped up. “Thanks to you. Your daily visits to Isabel have given me more time to focus on work. I am now making my quotas.”

“Have you started getting paid yet?” Darcie hated to ask such a personal question, but she was skeptical about Pilar’s new job. When Mayte went into rehab, Pilar had to leave her job as a cashier to care for Isabel, and this job seemed too good to be true. Darcie had been around the FRS team long enough to know that trusting people were often taken advantage of with work-from-home schemes.

Pilar’s smile widened, wrinkling the crow’s feet by her eyes. “My salary is directly deposited into my checking account as I finish each assignment.”

“Good.” Darcie had never been so thankful to be wrong. “It’s great that you found the perfect job.”

“God is with me, is He not?”

Darcie nodded, but didn’t say a word. God. She wasn’t sure she saw Him in any of this, or in much of anything. Not since she’d lost Haley in a freak car crash.

Pilar gestured at the iPad. “And it is wonderful that you have loaned me your iPad. You and Detective Noah have been so generous. I have saved my money and will be able to get a new computer soon.” Gratitude shone on her face. “Detective Noah has even promised to help me find a quality computer for a good price.”

“Are you ever going to start calling him just plain Noah?”

“Just plain Noah is much longer than Detective Noah, I think.” She chuckled. “But no, I will continue to use Detective with him just as I call you Nurse Darcie. It is my way of showing my respect.”

“We don’t need that, Pilar. We know you respect us and our work. In fact, I wish you would stop. At least with me.”

“Then I will.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Isabel announced from where she sat watching television.

Pilar started to move as if she planned to get up to help Isabel.

“Don’t even think about it,” Darcie warned. She squeezed Pilar’s shoulder to soften the admonition and looked down into her eyes ringed with dark circles. Assuming the care for an injured young child was taking its toll on Pilar. She wouldn’t admit it or complain at all. She loved Isabel and was thankful to have custody of her granddaughter, who’d lived many years with Mayte in terrible conditions.

Darcie firmly clasped the handles of Isabel’s wheelchair, not caring that the pressure smarted against her skin. She’d rather be in pain than think about the callout where she’d found Isabel living in a squalid apartment with drug paraphernalia all around.

Darcie’s anger from that day came roaring back. How could a mother treat her child like that? How could Mayte even have a child when Darcie’s precious Haley been taken from her?

No, stop. It does no good.

What was the point in doing so? She’d asked these questions over and over, year after year, and God never answered. She’d concentrate on what she could do. Like spend even more time with Isabel to give Pilar a break.

Darcie wheeled Isabel into the bathroom and helped her maneuver the ankle-to-hip cast weighing her down. Darcie settled Isabel in place, then turned her back to give her privacy. Maybe for Darcie to get her emotions under control, too.

She took deep breaths like she’d done daily after Haley had died. Darcie couldn’t save her own daughter, but she’d saved Isabel and could help improve her quality of life.

Darcie closed her eyes. Envisioned a happy place. A nice home for Pilar and Isabel, free from guns and gangs. Even Mayte could live there when she came out of rehab. Darcie imagined a cute little house in the sun. White with blue trim. A garden for Pilar. A swing set for Isabel. Birds chirping. Butterflies floating overhead. Maybe a rainbow or two.

A knock sounded on the door to Pilar’s room. Darcie jumped and spun. Noah’s deep voice soon rumbled through the space.

Noah. It’s just Noah.

She blew out a breath. She’d been expecting him and was honestly glad he was here. She felt safer with him around. Far safer. But that wasn’t good. She couldn’t let herself depend on him or want him in her life for any reason.

“I’m done, Darcie,” Isabel announced.

The innocence of the little girl’s voice instantly replaced Darcie’s thoughts with a smile. She helped Isabel wash her hands and get back into the chair, then stole a quick hug, drawing in the fresh scent of her strawberry shampoo. She loved the feel of the trusting child offering uncomplicated love and affection.

“Can we go see Noah?” she asked, her expression excited.

“Of course.” Darcie wheeled her into Pilar’s room.

“I’m glad you came,” Isabel said.

“I’m glad to see you, too.” Noah flashed a smiled but then stepped toward Darcie.

His worried expression set her anxiety flaring up again.

“Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” he asked.

Darcie’s gut cramped hard, but she fought back the panic and looked at Pilar. “Will you two be okay if I step into the hallway for a few minutes?”

“Yes, of course,” Pilar said, but her brow was tight with concern.

Darcie strode into a hallway similar to the ones she’d walked in during her years as a nurse. Noah moved close enough for a whiff of his spicy aftershave to overcome the familiar hospital smells. Close enough to see the small dimple in his cheek that always appeared when he smiled.

Ignore it. Ignore him. Ignore the desire to let him hold you and chase all your troubles away.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

She would forever be in his debt for his help. She was also thankful he continued to help Isabel and Pilar, too. Darcie was able to handle a few hours here or there in his company while they focused on helping someone else. But now...now there would be an investigation into her attack. How was she going to avoid him as she’d tried to do since they’d met? To avoid the chemistry that always sparked between them?

She wasn’t about to follow her interest and risk her heart again. Not with him. Not with any man. Not after losing her precious Haley and then her ex-husband, Tom, when he abandoned her after he was unable to deal with his grief. She’d once believed the people she loved could help her deal with life’s trials. Believed that God could banish problems. But now she knew everything in her life depended on her and her alone.

She might be physically attracted to Noah, but it would go no further. He couldn’t chase away her troubles. She was the only one who could do that.

She cut off her thoughts with a finely honed self-discipline she’d developed since Haley’s death and faced him.

“I’m sorry, Darcie.” He shoved a hand into his hair, leaving short little tufts standing at attention. “We tried our best, but we weren’t able to apprehend the shooter.”

Darcie’s heart sank, but she didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. What could she say after hearing the man who’d tried to kill her was still running free?

Noah pulled out a small notepad and a pen. “I got a quick look at the suspect’s size and body type, but I’m hoping you can give me a facial description so I can put out an alert. Then you can meet with the sketch artist first thing in the morning.”

Darcie forced herself to replay the details of her attack so she could describe the creep. “He was dark-skinned. Latino. His face was round, and he had stubble covering his chin. Maybe a full goatee—I’m not sure. He was mean-looking, Noah. So mean. Like he’d done this before. Killed someone, I mean.” The fear that had nearly taken her down during the attack resurfaced, and she looked at Noah for a moment to take comfort from his warmth. His concern.

She jerked her gaze away before she started thinking she could continue to go to him for reassurance. Turning her head sent pain shooting through her tender neck, and her near-death experience came flashing back with a vengeance. Shivers started at her head, racing down her body like a rushing river. A cry of despair slipped out before she could stifle it.

“Hey.” Noah stepped closer and rested a warm hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Was she? Would this creep think she could identify him and come looking for her? Come after her with his gun, or even worse, try to strangle her again?

A full-on shudder claimed her body, and despite her efforts to fight back her tears, they started flowing. She tried to stop them, willed them away, but to no avail.

“Aw, no. Don’t cry.” Noah’s arms went around her and he drew her close.

She’d forgotten the feel of a man’s embrace other than from a friend, the warmth and tenderness, and she moved even closer, sobbing hard and soaking his shirt. She willingly reveled in his warmth and pushed to the recesses of her mind all thoughts of why allowing him to care for her was wrong.

She needed him. Just now. Not later. Never again. Just now.

He cradled her head and held her. Minute after minute. Standing strong. His arms enveloping her. Her fear receding. Calm returning and, along with it, her common sense. She allowed herself a few more moments to accept Noah’s compassion that eased the chill from her heart, but when her tears fully subsided, she couldn’t find an excuse to stay in his arms so she freed herself and looked up at him.

“Better?” he asked, his gaze tender as he pressed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

She didn’t know how to reply and silence hung heavy between them. She should fill the quiet with words, with something, but she didn’t want to admit that outside of his arms she felt afraid. If she did, he would insist on protecting her and that wouldn’t be good for either of them. Nor would she lie and say she was okay.

She opted to simply take another step back and ignore his question. “Do you think my attacker will try to finish what he started?”

“If he thinks you can identify him, yes.” Frowning, Noah flipped a page in his notebook. “If the attack was random—just you being in the wrong place at the wrong time—then there’s a good chance he won’t know where to find you. But there’s always the possibility that he specifically targeted you. If that’s the case, then he might know your name or how to track you down. Have you thought of a possible motive for the attack?”

“Motive? No. I have no idea who he is or why he did this. He was just suddenly there, behind me, grabbing me around the throat.” She touched her neck, feeling the tenderness.

Noah ground his teeth for a moment. “Do you think the attack could be related to your work? Like maybe you treated a guy on one of your ambulance runs, and he’s mad at you for some reason?”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” She paused to think about it. “I see people when they’re in crisis. Sometimes it sets them off, but to attack me for it? Seems far-fetched. And I don’t remember a patient who looks like him, but maybe.” She shrugged. “I treat so many people in a day...”

“Still, I’m thinking you’d remember someone mad enough to want to kill you.”

“I hope so. If I don’t, I’m not very in tune with the care they need. Which likely means this isn’t related to work.”

He jotted a note on his pad. “I’ll still request a list of your callouts for the last few weeks, and we’ll start there.”

“We?” she asked, the word fighting its way up her throat. “You’re going to be working this case?”

“The jerk was shooting to kill. He’ll be charged with attempted murder and that falls within homicide’s purview.” He studied her, his eyes a piercing gray instead of the usual muted blue. “Is that a problem?”

Of course it is. On a personal level. But what about the professional? It was a blessing to have a top Portland detective working this investigation. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

He shoved his notebook into his pocket. “I’ll get the description out to patrol, then escort you home. If I know your squad, they’ll want to hear the whole story, and you can give me your full statement then.”

“Whole story? You think they’ll stop at that? They’re going to want to see the forensic evidence, too.” Despite her ongoing fear, the thought of her teammates having her back made her smile. “And they’ll hound you during this investigation to make sure you’re doing everything you can to bring this guy in. So be prepared.”

“No worries there.” His expression sobered. “I won’t stop until this creep is behind bars.”

The dedication in his voice surprised her, and she didn’t know how to respond so she simply stared at him. As if embarrassed at the emotions he’d displayed, he suddenly spun and pushed open Pilar’s door.

At the sound of Isabel’s voice, Darcie grabbed Noah’s arm. “Wait.”

He turned, his hand resting on the slightly open door. “What is it?”

“Since you’ve been helping with Isabel you should know that Isabel and Pilar will be staying with me in my condo.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“The condo is small and we’ll be a little cramped, but with the gunshot wound Pilar can’t care for Isabel so I’ll be taking over.”

“I’m not talking about the accommodations.” He made strong eye contact. “Since we know nothing about the shooter, this incident could be related to your relationship with Pilar and Isabel.”

“Pilar and Isabel? How?”

“Mayte may be in rehab, but she still has deep connections with the drug world.” He scrubbed a hand over his face as if the thought made him weary. “Based on the clothing the suspect wore, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gangster, and you know that means drugs. They could be trying to send a warning to Mayte.”

Darcie swiveled to look through the open doorway at Isabel. If this incident was related to her mother’s past, it was an even more compelling reason to put Isabel under the protection of the FRS at the restored firehouse where they all lived together. No matter what Noah said or thought.

Darcie widened her stance and planted her feet as she often did with unruly patients to let them know she was in charge. “Pilar has to spend the night here, but Isabel will be coming home with me today and I will pick up Pilar tomorrow.”

Noah released the door and stepped close enough that she could see slivers of black mixing with the gray in his eyes. “Let me be clear about this, Darcie, so you know the risk. If we’re dealing with gangbangers, they won’t care who gets in the way. Bringing Isabel and Pilar home with you could put you and the whole FRS team in danger.”

He spoke the truth, but what else could she do? She didn’t want to put her coworkers—her friends—in danger, but if she presented her case to them, she knew they’d all agree with her decision.

She reaffirmed her stance. “You know as well as I do that everyone on the team puts the lives and safety of others first. They’ll risk a little danger to protect an innocent child and her grandmother and none of them will even bat a lash.”


THREE (#ulink_6b446efb-aa24-5bb3-b434-7c2c2ecd384e)

Noah paced the communal living area on the first floor of the team’s remodeled firehouse. Upper floors of the historic building held individual condos for the team members, while the kitchen, dining room and game room were available to them on the main level. Kerr Development once owned the historic building and had it slated to be sold until Darcie saved Winnie Kerr’s life on a callout. Winnie was so grateful for Darcie’s care and ensuing friendship that she remodeled the firehouse as a home for the entire FRS. She donated the building to the county, along with an endowment that allowed the team to live there rent-free. A sweet deal for all of them.

Tonight all of the team members and their significant others had gathered for a group dinner, but Darcie’s attack changed everything. They’d put dinner on hold and waited for Darcie to provide details of the assault after she took Isabel upstairs for a nap.

Noah had to give the team credit. They’d restrained their natural instinct to take charge and go barreling out the door to find Darcie’s attacker right away. Any one of them, from team leader Jake Marsh, to sniper Brady Owens, bomb expert Cash Dixon, or negotiators Skyler Hunter and Archer Reed, were capable of mounting a hunt for Darcie’s attacker. Instead, they’d patiently sat in wait. Maybe it had to do with the addition of Skyler’s husband, or Brady’s and Cash’s fiancées to the group. Maybe they served as a calming influence on the high-strung team.

Brady suddenly shot to his feet. He never sat still for long and had been whittling away on a chunk of wood, the shavings piling up near his feet. “How long does it take to get a kid to sleep?”

“Cut her some slack, honey.” His fiancée, Morgan, looked up from where she perched on the arm of the chair he’d occupied. “After Isabel’s scare, Darcie likely wants to be sure she’s sound asleep before leaving her alone.”

“I know, but—” He dropped back into the chair.

Morgan pressed a finger against his lips and surprisingly, he smiled up at her and didn’t argue, but fell silent.

Looked like Noah’s take on the significant others was on target.

Footsteps sounded above, then Noah heard the click of shoes coming down the stairway. He crossed the room to see Darcie slowly descend. She was long and lean, with legs that didn’t seem to quit. She’d changed out of her work uniform of black pants and polo shirt into jeans and a bright blue sweater with a high collar. The color highlighted the generous red tint to her hair, something he’d often thought was related to her fiery personality. And the neckline covered the bruises on her throat—a choice that he figured was probably deliberate.

“You poor thing.” Cash’s fiancée, Krista, rushed over to Darcie and led her toward an open chair as if she was a fragile teacup. “I can’t imagine having a guy try to choke me. And bullets? I’d faint.”

Morgan joined them, her blond hair standing out in contrast to the dark-headed pair. She patted Darcie’s shoulder, then squatted next to her. “It’s terrible. Just terrible. What can we do to help?”

Darcie shrank back from their enthusiastic concern. She started turning a small silver ring around and around on her pinkie finger. The ring had belonged to her daughter, Haley, and Noah knew she played with it when she was nervous. She hated being the center of attention like this and rarely let people focus on her. She usually sidestepped questions about her life and her past, but the attack seemed to have rattled her more than she was letting on, as she simply stared into the distance.

“This is crazy,” Noah said, purposefully pulling the attention from her.

“What is?” Krista pushed her hair from her face to look up at him.

Noah forced a lighthearted tone to his voice. “For the first time ever, someone is mothering Darcie instead of her taking them under her wing.”

“Noah’s right.” Jake Marsh smiled down on Darcie from where he stood by the blazing fireplace, his stance wide and ready for action, as usual. Jake was tough and in charge, but Noah also knew how much he cared and that he would put his own life on the line for his team members.

“Guess it’s a side benefit of having more women around.” Cash smiled up at Krista, and Noah couldn’t help but gape. The former Army Ranger and bomb tech seemed to have mellowed out, too.

“What does that say about me, then?” Skyler got up and stared at Cash. Petite, with curly red hair, she was a lot tougher than her pint-sized stature made her seem. And she was one of the finest negotiators and detectives Noah had ever met.

“Don’t take offense, sweetheart.” Logan claimed his wife’s hand. “You have a heart of gold, but most of the time you’re more in a round up criminals and take names’ kind of mode.”

Noah expected Skyler to get mad, and he waited for her response.

She wrinkled her nose. “I kind of am, aren’t I?”

Logan smiled fondly at Skyler. “As an FBI agent, I appreciate that, as do your teammates. Krista and Morgan, on the other hand...?”

“Hey.” Morgan snapped her head up. “Don’t put words in our mouths. We like Skyler just fine, don’t we, Krista?”

“Well.” Krista’s face suddenly lit with mischief. “Maybe she could shrink an inch so I’m not the shortest person in the group, but yeah, otherwise she’s great.”

Skyler scowled in mock offense and the teammates broke out in laughter. Even Darcie smiled, once again proving to Noah that this team acted more like family than coworkers. Darcie was blessed to be a part of the group. He wished he had the same thing on the job, but most of the guys he hung with were married and focused on their own families, and he was like a fifth wheel.

And his real family? They hadn’t spoken much since they’d learned about Ashley. About his son, Evan. Her parents had raised the baby and they wouldn’t let his parents anywhere near their only grandson. Noah deserved their reproach, but it stung. And to make matters worse, they’d recently learned that Evan wasn’t brought up in the Christian faith. It weighed heavy on Noah’s mind, night and day. And put a boatload of guilt in his heart, too.

“I may not be the soft and squishy type,” Skyler said, transferring her focus to Darcie, “but I can make a mean cup of tea. I’ll get you one.” She went straight to the adjoining kitchen.

Jake dropped into a recliner and pushed it back, his focus locked on Darcie. “Noah gave us the basics of your attack, but I’d like to hear about it in your own words.”

Her face blanched. Noah grabbed onto the fireplace mantel to keep from crossing over to her to offer comfort. Not only wasn’t it a good idea, but she’d also hate the extra attention.

Krista took Darcie’s hand. “Take your time, sweetie. I understand. I’ll never forget the creep who tried to kill me, but it gets easier to deal with as time passes. I promise.”

Noah had heard something about Krista’s abduction six months ago when Cash had saved her life, but Noah didn’t know more than that.

Darcie extracted her hand, leaned back in her chair and started in on the details of her attack. She described the suspect and her breathing intensified as tears started to form. She was a strong woman, but even strong women cried after a harrowing attack, and it was going to take Darcie time to get over the experience.

Her voice faltered and she blinked hard. “I don’t know this creep, but Noah wonders if it’s related to someone from a callout who didn’t like the way I treated him.”

Brady scoffed. “I expect you’d nearly have to kill someone to cause this extreme reaction. Anyone whose care you botched lately?”

“Brady,” Morgan scolded. “I’m sure there’s a more delicate way to ask.”

Brady smiled at her. It wasn’t hard to see he was head over heels in love with the woman. “Never claimed there was anything delicate about me, honey.”

“Subtlety was never Brady’s strong suit.” Archer grinned at Morgan. “And you’re the one who chose to get engaged to the guy. We inherited him.”

“Thanks a lot.” Brady fake slugged Archer’s arm.

Archer laughed. “No problem, man. What are friends for?”

“Focus, people,” Jake interrupted, to keep the team on task. “Darcie, can you think of anyone who might want to retaliate—not because you did anything wrong in their care, but because they just weren’t happy with the results? Someone who was left permanently disabled, maybe?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about it since Noah mentioned it, and I’m coming up blank.”

“I’ve already got my team pulling the callout records from dispatch,” Noah offered. “But I’m also wondering if this is gang-related.”

“Gang.” Jake sat forward, slamming down his leg rest and fixing his gaze on Noah. “How so?”

“This is just a hunch, mind you. I didn’t get a close look at the shooter, but he wore Nuevo gang colors. And we all know about the gang problems in that neighborhood.”

“Never heard of the Nuevo gang,” Cash said.

“They’re a recently formed offshoot of another faction. Nuevo means new. Hence the name.”

Darcie frowned. “But I’m not involved with or connected to a gang.”

“Regardless,” Noah replied, “I’ll talk to our detective on the metro gang task force to see if he has any thoughts on the attack.”

“I don’t like this uncertainty.” Morgan twisted her hands. “There’s got to be a connection to narrow this down. Or how else will we know whether or not everyone here is in danger?”

“This isn’t related to the team, is it?” Krista shot a questioning look at Noah.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I think it’s less likely than some of the other options.”

Jake narrowed his gaze. “Could be related to the Vargas family.”

“The Vargas family?” Krista asked.

“He’s talking about Isabel, Mayte and Pilar.” Skyler came back into the room carrying a mug of steaming tea. She handed it to Darcie and grinned. “Is this where I should give you a hug or something?”

Darcie returned the smile, and Noah liked seeing the change in her attitude even if it was just for the moment. “I’m good for now.”

“Morgan’s right, you know,” Brady said. “If this is related to the squad we need to know.”

Noah opened his mouth to speak, but the team started tossing out thoughts on possible suspects. No point in fighting to be heard. He leaned back and listened, but he kept his eye on Darcie, who sipped her tea and said very little.

“Back to the Vargas family,” Jake said. “Could this have something to do with Mayte’s drug habit?”

“I wondered the same thing,” Noah admitted. “I’ll start looking in to that, too.”

“You’re heading up this investigation, then?” Archer asked.

Noah nodded and waited for one of them to ask about his credentials and if PPB had a more qualified detective.

“So there’s no clear reason for the attack.” Logan weighed in for the first time. “Did you ever consider it’s just a random attack? Maybe a robbery?”

“I thought of that,” Darcie said. “But if all he wanted was my money, why didn’t he pull his gun and demand my purse instead of trying to choke me to death?”

“Good point. It does sound more like someone wanted you dead.” Logan frowned. “Odd that he’d attempt it out in broad daylight like that with witnesses around.”

“If he is a gangster,” Noah said, “the locals are so afraid of the gangs, they’d never testify against them, so the gangsters don’t bother trying to hide. And, honestly, the attack in broad daylight is right in line with a gangster’s behavior.”

Archer nodded. “They aren’t known for their subtlety.”

Jake was still frowning. “Until we can prove a connection to a gang, we’ll need to explore all other possibilities.”

Brady leveled his gaze at Darcie. “You’ve never really talked about your ex. Could he be behind this?”

Darcie’s mouth fell open for a second, before she snapped it closed and took a deep breath. “Tom doesn’t have any gang ties.”

Brady leaned forward. “He could have hired someone.”

“He’s right, Darcie,” Skyler said. “I know Tom came to see you a few weeks ago. He seemed pretty angry when he left. Could it be related to that?”

Darcie opened her mouth, then closed it again and looked down at her hands. “We own a house together from when we were married. He wants to sell it. Says he needs the money. I’m not ready to let it go.”

“I know you don’t want to think he could harm you, but money or the lack thereof, is a powerful motivator,” Archer said.

“I should probably look in to him.” Noah tried to sound like it would be an unpleasant thing to do, when truth was, he hoped to learn more about Darcie in the process since she shared little about her personal life.

“Do what you have to do,” she said, but didn’t look up.

Archer shifted in his chair. “Has anyone thought about Winnie Kerr’s sons?”

“The woman who donated this place?” Morgan asked.

Archer nodded. “She recently changed her will, cutting out her sons and leaving Darcie a sizable inheritance. Her sons didn’t like it and they’re trying to prove Winnie’s not of sound mind.”

Darcie lifted her head, sorrow lingering in her expression. “I’m scheduled to testify on Winnie’s behalf.”

“Sounds like a good motive for murder.” Archer swung his gaze to Noah. “Since this is a financial lead and I have an MBA, mind if I do a bit of checking on it for you? Would help relieve some of your workload.”

“I’m glad for the help.” Noah handed a business card to Archer. “Keep me updated on your progress.”

“And you’ll do the same thing,” Jake demanded, his focus fixed squarely on Noah’s face.

Noah didn’t like sharing confidential information outside of his department, but there was no point in arguing with Jake. He’d get the information somehow, so Noah might as well provide it. He nodded his agreement.

Darcie set down her teacup and stood. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of talking about this. It’s my night to cook dinner, and it’s time for me to get started.”

“Oh, honey.” Morgan jumped up. “You don’t need to cook. We can do it.”

Darcie gave a firm shake of her head, then winced. Noah suspected it was from the bruises he’d seen before she hid them under her sweater. “Making dinner will keep my mind busy.”

With her shoulders back, she turned and marched to the kitchen, looking like the resolute, amazing woman Noah knew her to be. After losing her daughter and then her marriage, she’d clawed her way back to normalcy in her life, but Noah knew it had been a long, hard struggle. He also knew if such a tragedy didn’t keep her down, nothing would.

The problem was, in an effort to keep up a strong act or to fight through her fears, she could very well ignore the danger she was in and do something foolish. It was just one of many things that would keep Noah on alert until he apprehended her attacker.


FOUR (#ulink_b89e9643-39f6-50ac-9607-adea7f464118)

Alone at last in the kitchen, Darcie planted her hands on the granite countertop, her back to the family room. The cool, smooth surface took the sting out of her hands. She needed time to process this day. Time away from everyone else. She couldn’t rush up to her condo for fear of waking Isabel, so she’d gone with the first thought that had come into her head—the kitchen.

Unfortunately, it was open to the family room, leaving her in full view. Still, cooking for this many people was a big job and no one on the squad would offer to help when it wasn’t their night, so she should have the kitchen all to herself. It was sweet of Morgan to offer to take over, but when Darcie pushed the point, Morgan certainly hadn’t insisted.

Fighting down a panic attack, one like the many she’d experienced after Haley died and Tom bailed on her, Darcie set to work on her family’s simple shrimp-boil recipe. She dug out a large stockpot and started water flowing. She unearthed several pounds of fresh shrimp, plump sausage and ears of corn from the refrigerator, then found a bag of baby red potatoes in the bin. As she retrieved the spice boiling bags from the pantry, Noah stepped into the room.

He smiled, but she could see he was testing her mood. “What are you making?”

“Shrimp boil—shrimp, corn on the cob, sausage and red potatoes all cooked with seafood spices,” she answered, trying to sound calm and collected so he would think she’d recovered from the attack and go home.

“You probably ate a lot of seafood growing up in Florida.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you go back there often?”

“Not really.” The fact that her family had disowned her when she married Tom, who was nothing more than an unemployed biker when they met, had nothing to do with the investigation, so she didn’t bring it up.

“Want some help?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She sighed and met his gaze. “Look, Noah, I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful for your help today, but if this is your way of getting me to talk about the incident and how I’m feeling, I’m done with that and ready to move on.”

“I’m that obvious, am I?” He grinned and his dimple, the one that seemed to beg her to poke a finger into it, appeared.

Instead, she turned off the water and started the gas burner beneath the pot.

“I’d hoped to talk to you about reviewing your callout list,” he continued. “I’m sure it’s in my email by now and we can sit down to review it together.”

She turned to him. “Tonight?”

“Yes, if you’re up to it.”

She had the stamina and the desire to do it tonight, but having Noah in her home made her think about him as a man and not a police detective. She didn’t need that distraction right now when her focus should be on helping him find her attacker. “I’m glad to work on the investigation with you at the precinct. We could do it in the morning right after I finish with the sketch artist.”

He watched her for a moment, a cloud darkening his eyes, then he shrugged and seemed to relax.

“So what you’re saying is I’m not invited to dinner,” he joked, but she could hear the hurt behind his words.

She looked up at him. “Do you think it’s a good idea for you to stay?”

“You mean because you’re cooking?” That grin again and the dimple. She could barely resist the dimple.

She sighed.

“Okay, sorry,” he said sincerely. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to spending time with me as I’m not leaving you alone until your attacker is caught.”

She crossed her arms. “I won’t be alone. I have the team.”

“A team who could be called out at any time of the day or night.”

“I’d go with them on the callout, then.”

“You’d have to stay here to care for Isabel. You really don’t want me to leave the two of you alone, do you?”

No. Yes. “I have a gun.”

He eyed her. “That you’re not willing to use.”

Her shoulders went up defensively. “I might have shot him.”

“Maybe,” he said, keeping his probing gaze fixed on her. “When’s the last time you went to the range to practice your marksmanship?”

A few months, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She shrugged.

He planted his hands on the counter. “Then after we get through the callout list tomorrow, we’ll be heading to the range.”

“You don’t need—”

“I know I don’t need to take you to the range.” He crossed his arms and put on his serious detective expression, which made him look hard and unyielding. Annoyingly, she found it equally as attractive as the cute dimple. “Anyone on the team can take you, or you could go on your own. But since I’m the one who has the problem with not letting you out of my sight until this guy is caught, you’ll humor me and let me see how well you can handle a gun.” He held her gaze, issuing her a challenge.

She thought to argue, but she knew he’d stand right there and keep at her until she agreed with him. She liked his tenacity. His strength and determination. Just not when he directed it at her.

“Now, I’m inviting myself to dinner.” He waved a hand over the counter. “What do you need help with?” He jutted out his chin as if challenging her to tell him he wasn’t wanted.

She was done fighting him for the night. After the attack, she had no energy left to do battle over something like this. “Do you know how to shuck corn on the cob?”

At the instant brightening of his mood, she regretted her decision to let him stay.

“No, but I’m sure you can teach me.”

She slid the bag of corn across the island. “It’s not hard. Cut off both ends and start peeling off the outer husk, then the silk strings. If the silk is stubborn try running it under water.”

She turned her back on him before he asked for additional directions. She went to the sink and started peeling the shrimp. She felt him watching her every move and resisted sighing for about the zillionth time today.

She’d always thought if they argued the spark between them would ignite into something fierce. It had and they were about to spend time together. Maybe a lot of it. Could they do so without the tension mounting every second? If not, she’d be in world of hurt by the time they captured the shooter.

* * *

Noah got up from the dining table and carried his plate to the kitchen. From everyone’s reactions, he was sure that dinner had been amazing, but the tender shrimp had felt like sawdust in his mouth, and he’d had to choke it down. His fault. Totally. He’d gotten his feelings hurt. There, he admitted it. How girlie was that? He was supposed to be this tough cop and he’d let Darcie hurt his feelings when she’d made it clear that she wanted him to leave.

So what had he done about it? Invited himself to dinner. Dumb. Really dumb. He could have just sat outside and kept an eye on the house. He didn’t need the added pain of being in Darcie’s company when he wasn’t wanted.

He shook his head, hoping to erase the memory of the tense meal, where her team members kept casting him and Darcie long looks. They knew there were sparks between the two of them. They were law enforcement officers with finely honed observation skills, so how could they not see it? Even Logan, who was new to the group, got it. Krista and Morgan were the only ones who seemed to be in the dark.

He set his plate on the counter next to the pile of dishes everyone ditched before moving to the family room. Darcie insisted on cleaning up, too, saying it was her responsibility and she wasn’t going to shirk it.

Noah heard the television news playing in the family room. He should go see what the reporters were saying about the shooting. Instead, he watched Darcie load the dishwasher. Despite the fiasco at dinner and his brain warning him to back off, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

Look at him. Standing there like a fool after a dinner that nearly made him hurl. If a chance to have dinner here came up in the future, he’d say no, even if it was his last meal on earth and eating here was his only choice. He’d take hunger, thank you very much.

His phone rang and he looked at the screen. His lieutenant.

“Lockhart,” he answered and leaned against the island.

“Thought you’d like to know we completed our canvass and forensics finished their sweep.” Emerson’s tone was flat, as if he didn’t care about the outcome.

“And?” Noah asked, hoping they’d located a lead on their shooter.

“The canvass didn’t turn anything up. Several people were either not home or not willing to open their door to us. You know how it goes. They may have seen something, may even know the guy, but they’re not going to help.”

Noah wished he didn’t know how that went. They’d solve more cases if people spoke up. “It’s not surprising for that neighborhood.”

“Exactly. I’ll have officers follow up and let you know if they convince anyone to break their silence.”

“And the criminalists? They find any forensic evidence?”

“Yeah, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Go ahead.” Noah gritted his teeth.

“They recovered a crumpled piece of paper with Darcie Stevens’s name on it. It was located where the shooter vaulted over the fence. Like he was trying to ditch it in case he got caught.”

“Darcie’s name’s on it?” he repeated like a parrot.

She must have heard him as she pivoted to look at him.

“See for yourself,” Emerson said. “I’ll text a photo of it to you right now.”

After drawing Darcie’s attention, Noah decided not to ask any additional questions before getting a look at the picture. His phone dinged and he opened the file. The scrap of paper held a handwritten list with the numbers one through three and a name listed behind each number. First place belonged to Leland King, second to Ramon Flores. Bright red slashes ran through each of their names. Darcie’s name took the third slot. Slash-free.

A hit list.


FIVE (#ulink_6330807e-b4ea-54ca-9bc4-95ae6ca99c20)

Noah was unable to formulate words to continue his conversation with his lieutenant. The more Noah looked at the picture, the more he was sure it was a hit list. And Darcie was the only one left to kill. She’d be dead already if she hadn’t gotten free from her attacker.

Acid churned up Noah’s throat and he swallowed hard as he lifted the phone to his mouth.

“If there was any question that the attack on Stevens was random,” Emerson continued, “there’s no question anymore.”

Noah wanted to slam a fist into the wall. To do anything but stand there emotionless. But he didn’t want to tell Darcie about the list until he had a moment to process the news. “Has anyone had a chance to check out the other two names?”

“It just landed on my desk, so no. I thought you’d want first crack at it.”

“You’ve got that right.” Noah studied the names. “Maybe we’re reading too much into this and the list is just a reminder for the dude to call them.”

“Seriously, Lockhart. You take a trip on the Alice in Wonderland express or something? You know as well as I do that the gangsters who live in that neighborhood don’t keep notes to remind themselves to call people. It’s a hit list, and once you process this lead, you’re gonna discover the men on the list are already dead.”

“I know.” Noah wished he could say something to the contrary.

Emerson was silent for a long time. “This personal thing with Stevens that we talked about earlier. Is it getting in the way of your objectivity, Lockhart? ’Cause if it is, I’ll pull you from this case so fast your head will spin.”

“No, sir,” Noah replied even though he suspected it already had. “I’m good.”

“See that it stays that way and keep me in the loop on your progress.” Emerson disconnected.

Darcie came over and stood next to him. “What is it?”

He wanted to shield her from the truth, but she had a right to know. He held out his phone.

She stared at the screen, then looked up with narrowed eyes. “What is that?”

“A list found in the forensic sweep of the area where the shooter went over the fence.”

She returned to staring at the screen. “But who are these men?”

“You don’t recognize the names?”

“No. So why am I on a list with them and why are they crossed—” Her head shot up. “Oh, no! It’s a hit list, isn’t it?”

“Likely,” he said reluctantly.

“And these guys are already dead, right?”

“I don’t know, but that’s what I aim to find out.” He pushed off the counter and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Jake mentioned at dinner that he isn’t on call and will be here all night, so I’ll head into the office and get started running their names.”

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “Can’t you do it here? You can use our computer in the office.”

“You want me here?’

“Yes. Please.”

“When it suits you, all of a sudden you want me to stay,” he said before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

A hurt look flashed over her face and she backed up. “I want to know what you find out the minute you find it out. If that means you stay here to work, then that’s what I want.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she held up a hand.

“I know that sounds cold and like I’m using you, but I’ll do just about anything to find out why this man is trying to kill me.”

Noah wanted to refuse her. To march out the door and not come back, but he could never say no to those large brown eyes pleading with him, or ignore the concern for her safety that made his gut hurt. “I’ll get my laptop from the car.”

He didn’t wait for her response, but headed for the front door. Outside, he let the icy wind coming from the north slap him in the face and cool his emotions. Emotions that had risen to the surface again. No surprise. Darcie did that to him.

So what? He was a grown man and could certainly wrangle down some feelings to get the job done. He grabbed his computer and vowed not to let her get to him again.

Back in the house, she escorted him to an office behind the family room and opened a desk drawer to retrieve a paper with the Wi-Fi log-in details.

She handed the paper to him and went to the door. “Make yourself at home. After I finish in the kitchen, I’ll be in the family room if you need anything. Will you please come tell me when you’ve discovered something?”

He set his laptop on the tidy desk. “This could take some time, you know. Are you sure you want me to hang around that long?”

“I said whatever it takes and I mean it. I’ll be in the family room when you’re ready to talk to me.” She started to leave, then looked back. “One good thing about the list. At least it rules out my ex, right?”

“Would seem to, unless he’s suddenly gotten into the business of hiring a hit man to kill people,” Noah joked.




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