“I was on the line with 9-1-1 when my cell phone died,” she said.
He released her and she heard him jingling some keys. Suddenly a small flashlight on one of the keys lit up. He placed it on the floor pointing at the wall. “This is the first time this has come in handy. My mother gave it to me.”
“Smart mom.”
He grunted and pulled a cell phone out of the holster on his waist. “Worried mother.”
“Worried? You’re a marine.”
He chuckled softly, a smooth, deep sound. “You know how parents are. Besides, my mother was in the marines. She’s always prepared.”
She’d never met anyone whose mother was a marine. In the air force and the army, yes, but not a marine.
As he used the touch screen on his phone, his fingers flew over the keys. “I’m texting my brothers. I’d call them but I don’t know how safe it is for them to answer a phone.”
“Excellent idea. Ask them if they’ve seen Kathleen and Lena.”
She caught a glimpse of his face in the semidarkness. His brows drew down in concentration. His eyes flashed, his mouth a tight line. Silence ruled for a few minutes. Finally a dull vibrating sound rumbled from his phone. And then another and another.
In the distance more shots popped but these still sounded far away.
“Yes,” he said in triumph. “Jake just answered. He’s with Kathleen.”
She caught her breath. “Are they all right?”
“They’re in a storage room behind the coffee shop next to the engraver’s and there’re several other people with them. He says they’re staying put for now.”
She released a slow breath, her tight muscles relaxing slightly. He continued texting. She stayed silent, her mind churning a hundred miles a minute. Worry escalated. Where were Lena and Rick?
“God, I hope Lena is safe,” she said.
“I got the impression you three ladies could handle anything that came your way.”
“Huh. Well, we have our moments.” She slid down to sit on the floor, easing her handbag off and leaving it nearby. “Lena just started taking handgun lessons. I hate guns.”
“Afraid of them?”
“Not exactly. I just have this aversion to them. My father was…” How did she say this without sounding like a cliché? “He was in Vietnam. He became a cop, then the PTSD took hold after a few years and…” She swallowed hard and couldn’t continue.
His dark gaze caught hers for a second and held, filled with an understanding she hadn’t expected. “My mother was a marine for twenty-five years and had some interesting experiences in Desert Storm. Then her body couldn’t take the wear and tear and she retired. She can be a real bear.”
“Ouch. The war or the discharge?”
“She loved her job. The discharge is what broke her.”
“Broke her?”
“She was in military police, and not doing that any more ate her up. She’s still trying to decide what she wants to be when she grows up. She got out of the military ten years ago, right before this last war.”
Silence wrapped them for a few moments before she said, “Was she tough on you and your brothers?”
“Yeah.”
She sensed a lot more to that story but didn’t feel comfortable going deeper. “What does your father do?”
“Travels with my mother. He was a Mr. Mom through our childhood. He’s a travel writer too. He’s a great dad. We always know that he loves us. He’s pretty easy to talk to.”
She popped out with, “Unlike your mom?”
He smiled. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
They went silent again for a short time before he asked, “You more like your mom or your dad?”
She winced. “I’m guilty of being like both of them equally.”
In the semidarkness his face didn’t reveal much. “Do people think you’re not approachable?”
That question stopped her in her tracks. She shifted on the hard floor, her mind awhirl, wondering why he’d asked. “How did you guess?”
“At Patrick and Danelle’s party the other night you seemed a little cool.”
Defensiveness almost won. She modulated her voice. “So did you.”
He laughed, and this time it was a purr of sound that wended its way inside her. “Touché. I’m good at giving orders in the marines. Not so good at relating with small talk.”
“You’re doing a great job now.”
“You’re…different. I find it easy to talk to you. And I don’t consider this small talk. It’s too significant for that.”
A low, sensual response unfurled in her and threw her off guard. How had he managed to draw her into this kind of conversation when a nutjob was nearby threatening people’s lives? He’d calmed her just by making conversation, and she was grateful.
She found her voice. “Men are intimidated sometimes after they’ve talked to me a while. I figured that’s the way you felt.”
“I see how some guys would be intimidated. Not want to get to know the real you.”
She didn’t want that to hurt but it did. “Story of my life but I’m working hard to change. I’ve spent too much of my life isolated from other people.”
She took a big chance revealing this much to a virtual stranger.
“Hard to keep cool, calm and collected when there’s a firefight. Even if it’s in the mall,” he said.
She snorted a small laugh. “My number-one priority used to be keeping my cool.”
“You did a good job at the party. Your eyes were throwing daggers at me.”
“You scowled at me.”
Surprise filled his voice. “I did?”
“Yes. You scowl a lot.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been accused of having this pissed-off face when I’m deep in thought. It wasn’t anything personal. I don’t even know when I’m doing it.”
“A couple of times you looked like a deer caught in headlights when I talked to you.”
“I think the deer in headlights thing was probably because you’re beautiful and I was stunned.”
Surprise held her silent for a moment. “Oh.” Holy cow. “Thank you.”
My God. This guy kept getting better and better. Something about this man touched her in deeper ways she didn’t understand. If it had been just good looks she could have ignored that. This…this had bite. Substance. A lick and stroke that demanded her attention and played along her skin like good sex but with a lasting finish that didn’t wear off the next morning.
“I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes as she laid her head back against the wall. “I’ve been chattering. I guess being scared as hell does that to me.”
“You never know how you’ll react to something like this until it happens.” Finished texting for the moment, he turned out the flashlight. He sat at her left side. “You okay?”
She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yes. No.”
He made a sound, just enough to convey amusement. “We’ll get out of here soon.”
She wanted to believe him. A short time passed and the bathroom was cold and quiet.
Unease trickled up her spine. “Do you think that…man will come back?”
“Maybe. A SWAT team should be in position soon. Then again, it hasn’t been very long. They might not be here yet.”
A low rumbling sound came from somewhere and then the light from the store outside the bathroom extinguished.
“Shit,” he said.
“I wonder if the police turned off the lights.”
“They might have. It could make things more difficult for the shooter. It could also make it harder for us.”
She drew her knees up and rested her head on her folded forearms. “I’ll never complain about another thing again as long as we all get out of this in one piece.” She sighed. “But I have a feeling someone won’t be coming home tonight. The man must have killed or wounded people.”
“But we’re going home tonight. In fact…” He drif
ted off, and it immediately brought her to full attention.
She looked over at him even though she couldn’t see him, total darkness making her feel like they were isolated on another planet. “In fact?”
“Before the shooting started I was going to ask you out.”
Surprise held her silent.
He cleared his throat. “I know. Bad timing. Forget I said anything.”
She’d heard the uncertainty in his voice and found it endearing. Her tongue felt too thick, the words difficult to form. “No. I…yes.”
“Yes?”
“When we get out of here, let’s go somewhere and talk. Obviously after the cops talk to us. They’ll probably have a million questions, right?”
“Right.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “After that, I’ll need to unwind.”
“That’s good, you know.”
“What? Unwinding?”
“You’re keeping the good thought. We are getting out of here in one piece, I promise.”
She liked the conviction in his voice and suddenly she felt one hundred percent safe, as if he’d placed a huge safety net under her.
Her stomach growled and heat crept into her face.
He laughed. “We’ll go out to eat.”
She rushed into the next thought. “There’s a diner in town that serves a wonderful breakfast twenty-four hours a day.” She refused to imagine they wouldn’t be out of here in time for dinner. Even a late dinner. “God, you wouldn’t think I’d be hungry at a time like this.”
“The body reacts in strange ways when you’re in danger.”
“It’s what I get for skipping lunch.”
“There’s no way I’d skip lunch if I could help it. A man’s gotta eat when he gets the chance.”
Somehow she knew exactly why he believed it. “Survival mode.”
“You could say that.”
She rubbed her arms as a cold chill crawled up from the floor and into her body. She took a deep breath and tried to calm the twitchiness that still flittered and skated through her muscles. “This is the first time I’ve been in danger. But you were in Afghanistan, right?”
“Yeah. Two tours. I’ve been back less than two weeks.”
“Were you in dangerous situations? Wait, don’t answer. Dumb question.”
“No problem. Yeah, a few times there was danger.” He made a self-deprecating sound. “Who the hell am I kidding? Afghanistan is danger. There isn’t a safe place.”
“Anything this scary?”
“They’re all scary.”
She hadn’t expected him to admit it. In the back of her mind men like the Frasier brothers had seen violence yet had become hardened by it. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Training. It becomes second nature.” His voice dropped lower, quieter. “I do it because my fellow marines rely on me to watch their six. And I rely on them. If we’re damned lucky, we come home to our families and friends.”
“My father would never have said that much about it. About being in war, I mean.” An ache started in the middle of her chest. “My mother said he wouldn’t talk to anyone. I was too young to understand and after he became a cop he finally…”
She stopped and the silence grew.
“He finally?” Matt asked.
She licked her lips. “He died five years ago during Thanksgiving. Cancer. He was in a mental institution. Long story.”
How he found her left hand in the dark, she didn’t know. He slipped his fingers through hers and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry. This time of year must be hard for you.”
She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “I’m getting better at seeing it a different way. Reframing it, I guess you could say.” But for some reason her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. They did. She swiped at them with her right hand but couldn’t hold back a sniff. “Oh, jeez. I didn’t mean to start this. I don’t cry.”
“Hey.” The gentle quality in his voice stirred something tender within her. His fingers tightened on hers. “We’re all the crying type one time or another.”
She made a scoffing sound. “Even big bad marines?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen a few crying like babies. We’re only human, Melanie.”
“I was just so used to seeing Dad deny his feelings and try to pretend like there was nothing wrong. In the end it gobbled him up.”
“Is that what you try to do?”
She knew what he meant but she wouldn’t admit it. “Do?”
“Bottle things up and pretend like there’s nothing wrong.”
God, this man could see through her way too easily. “Yeah. How did you know?”
“My brother Jake is like that. He’s sort of a joker. When he’s really pissed and wants to hit something, he cracks a joke instead. It’s his way of coping.” His hand squeezed hers again, this time a little tighter. “A guy in my unit flipped out on us once during a firefight. Totally lost it. We had as much fun trying to deal with him as we did with the insurgents. He’s out of the military now.”
“I sometimes wish I could shrug off my protective shell and just deal with things head-on,” she said, willing to admit more.
“Don’t beat yourself up. We all have quirks. It’s just that a lot of people spend as much time trying to cover them up as they do dealing.”
“Do you deal with things?”
“I’m working on it.” His voice sounded graver, filled with an ache. “But being in a mall with a shooter has a tendency to make personal hang-ups seem a hell of a lot less of a big deal.”
The silence this time held a weight and profound significance that overlaid everything.
His phone buzzed. “It’s Rick.” His voice held relief. “He saw Lena near the engraver’s moments before the shooting started. He’s going to get her now.”
“He’s out in the open with a shooter running around?”
“Don’t worry. He knows what he’s doing. He’s been in a situation or two himself. The Coast Guard isn’t for sissies.”
She could believe it. Big Rick. That’s what people called him, because Rick stood six feet five and was all muscle. He lived in Alaska and there were more than enough challenges living in that state with thousands of miles of wilderness.
They subsided into quiet for some time before he said, “I didn’t come to Constitution to get in a firefight.”
“Constitution isn’t the big city. This sort of stuff doesn’t happen here.”
“This sort of stuff happens everywhere.”
She sighed. “Yeah. You’re right.” She switched thoughts. “You’ve got that metal pole. What can that do against a gun?”
“You’d be surprised.”
She smiled. “How could I forget? You’re a marine.”
“Damn right.”
He didn’t sound arrogant—only self-assured in a good way.
She rubbed her arms again. Half from nerves and half from cold. “How long have we been here?”
“Too damned long. About a half hour.”
“Is that all?”
“Battle can either make things seem a hell of a lot faster or a lot slower.”
Battle. No denying the experience.
Another text came through on his phone a short time later. “Rick has Lena. They’re safe and slipped out a back door. They’re in the parking lot. The shooter is still rampaging. SWAT is here.”
Relief slipped around the anxiety humming in her veins. “Thank God they’re safe.”
“She’s injured her ankle. She was pushed down by another man trying to get out of the mall. He wants to take her to the hospital but she’s insisting on staying here because of you and Kathleen.”
“Damn. Well, she’s stubborn enough. If he thinks he can convince her to leave he’s got his work cut out for him.”
“He’s pretty stubborn too. They’re a good match.”
He switched off the flashlight again. Darkness gave the illusion of intimacy and it cloaked her in a little com
fort. Absence of light wouldn’t keep the man terrorizing the mall at bay but it gave the illusion that for a bit longer they’d be safe.
His voice rumbled in the darkness. “You all right?”
“I’m great.”
“Great?”
“No. I’m queasy, cold and worried as hell.”
She heard shuffling. “Take my jacket.”
“What? No, I can’t.”
He slipped the heavy jacket around her shoulders. “Here, put this on.”
Her fingers came in contact with leather. “I can’t take this.”
“Sure you can. It’s a loan. I want it back.”
The humor in his voice eased her conscience. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”
“Nah. I’m a big, bad marine. Remember?”
She laughed softly and eased her arms into the jacket. It was huge on her but his warmth enveloped. It felt good. Too good. And man, his scent tweaked every hormone in her body. Sandalwood? It was insane to feel sexually stimulated when they were in danger of having their asses shot off, wasn’t it?
She drew in a deep breath of appreciation. “Thank you. I would have worn my coat but this sweater is usually very warm and I didn’t think I was going to be in the mall that long. I feel so shaky.”
He shifted and then his arm came around her shoulders. He drew her into his body and the heat instantly helped. “Could be adrenaline. When you come down from it you can feel shaky and sick.”
“What about you?”
“I’m used to coming down from adrenaline surges.” His arm tightened, his palm rubbing over her shoulder. “But I’ve barfed my guts up a couple of times.”
She smiled, amused by his candor. “Are you trying to make me feel better or flirting?”
“Both.”
She laughed and they went silent again for a short while. Finally she spoke up. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel better.”
“And flirting?”
“Hmmm. Well, that depends. Do you flirt with all the girls?”
“Only when I’m stuck with them in unisex bathrooms.”
She stifled a laugh. “I can’t believe I can laugh at anything right now.”
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