by Julie Miller
He’d certainly never had a woman get so deep inside his head and heart before that his grandfather’s words had made him shudder as if he’d already been robbed of his soul. Could you stand to lose her?
Alex dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the crown of Audrey’s hair, fearing that if he hugged her as tightly as he wanted to at that moment, he’d frighten her awake.
Even with the thin strip of moonlight sneaking into her room between the drapes and blinds, he could admire the porcelain beauty of her body exposed above the covers that had caught at their waists. And he didn’t need any light to still know the smell of her on his skin, the taste of her in his mouth, the sounds of her earthy cries of pleasure in his head.
She made him stop and think.
He made her stop and feel.
This was exactly where he was supposed to be. Right here beside Audrey.
The problem was convincing her that was still the case outside of this bedroom. He needed Audrey’s skills in arguing to persuade her that not only was a future together with him an option, but that he believed it was the only option for the two of them to be happy and find the balance they needed.
There. He had heard something. Alex stilled his breathing and angled his ear toward the window. Thup. Thup. The muffled sounds jerked through his muscles, honing his senses, alerting him to the threat of danger in the distance. Metal on metal. Car doors closing.
He untangled his legs from Audrey’s and slid out of bed. He pulled on his shorts and black pants and grabbed his weapon off the bedside table. He crept to the window without disturbing the drapes and lined up his eyes with the thin beam of moonlight, scouting the trees out front for movement while he tossed aside his holster and cocked a round into the gun’s firing chamber.
The click-clack of sound, or his absence from the bed, elicited a murmur from Audrey. She was stirring. Waking, but not yet aware.
He heard another car door slam and swung his eyes back outside. Damn those trees! He squinted, peering through the shadows. Was that movement down at the gate?
Son of a bitch. Alex snatched his phone off the bedside table and punched in a number. The battle had come to him. And there wasn’t anything standing between the multiple attackers skulking through the darkness outside the gate and Audrey, snug in her bed, except for him, his gun and the survival instincts that had kept him alive on the streets and forged him into the cop—into the man—he’d become.
When Michael Cutler’s clipped voice answered, Alex didn’t apologize for waking him. “Captain. It’s going down. Kline estate. I need backup. Now.”
He didn’t need to clarify or wait for a response before hanging up. The clock was ticking. On silent bare feet he went back to the bed and covered Audrey’s mouth. Her eyes instantly popped open, wild and afraid. “Shh. It’s me, Red.”
She nodded her recognition and he released her. Her gaze darted down to the gun in his other hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She sat up and scooted off the edge of the bed as he returned to the window. “I need you to get dressed. As fast as you can. Shoes you can run in.”
“Alex?” She darted to her closet and grabbed the first pair of jeans and T-shirt she could find.
“We’ve got company.”
She shoved her bare feet into a pair of sneakers.
“Should I call 9-1-1?”
“We’ll need all the help we can get.” He plucked his cell from his pocket and tossed it to her across the room. She caught it and flipped it open with one hand, punching in the numbers while she zipped up her jeans. A woman with no undies who could catch like a center fielder would have been mind-numbingly hot if he wasn’t so caught up in trying to figure out… “What the hell?”
He counted one, two, three—four unknown perps running away from the front gates. They crossed through the light from a streetlamp and disappeared into the trees several yards beyond the great stone fence. Gallagher Security better be picking up all that movement and sending over a fleet of squad cars—
Alex jerked his head away and cursed at the flash of light that blinded him a split second before a concussive blast rent the air and rattled the windows. They were too far from the gate to sustain any damage up here, but that wasn’t the point.
“What was that?” Audrey asked, crouching near the bed.
The explosion at the gate had triggered the alarms. He had to give Gallagher credit for putting on a show big enough to deter most intruders. Floodlights outside turned the shadowed trees into a daylit forest. Emergency lights flashed on and off in Audrey’s bedroom and under the hallway door. A siren pulsed, shrieking its warning and forcing him to shout.
“Come with me!” He grabbed Audrey’s wrist and ran into the sitting room while engines revved and tires squealed through the night outside. He pulled the Kevlar off the chair and slipped it over her head. “Strap this on.”
She tried to pull the vest back up. “We’re under attack! You can’t face them without any protection. You don’t even have any shoes on!”
He tugged it back down and fastened the first Velcro strap beneath her arm. “I’m not asking you, sweetheart. Put it on.”
Thankfully, she batted his hand away and took over. Alex didn’t waste any time. The one good thing about a gang fight was that he could always hear the enemy coming—even over the blare of the alarm. He could hear the two cars speeding across the bricks with their music blasting and their souped-up mufflers roaring like doomsday.
“Where are we going?”
Alex squinted against the flashing lights and ran as fast as Audrey could keep up. “Your father’s study.” Leading with his gun, he took the stairs two at a time and circled around at the bottom. “It’s the one room in this house that has no windows. And only one door. I want you to go inside and lock it—”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“—and get underneath the heaviest piece of furniture you can find.”
“Alex!”
“Smith’s Bad Boys are here.” He couldn’t wait for the cavalry. He needed to get out to his truck and try to reach his Benelli shotgun and spare cache of ammunition. “That means guns and lots of bullets flying.”
She clung to his free hand with both of hers. “What about you?”
“This is my job, sweetheart.” He pushed her inside. No, Grandpa, I couldn’t stand to lose her. “I love you. Lock it.”
He pulled the door shut, said a prayer and ran outside to meet the enemy.
THE BULLET RIPPED THROUGH Alex’s shoulder like a red hot poker as the first car spun out on the driveway’s frozen slush and careened into an unbending oak. He had no time to do more than grunt at the searing pain as he flattened his back against the side of his truck and dropped the semiautomatic shotgun at his feet. The weapon would be useless to him now that the muscles on his left side were shocky with the wound and he’d be unable to steady his aim or control the recoil with one good arm.
But his second shot had taken out the driver and bought him a few seconds to expel the spent magazine from his Glock and reload the gun with the spare mag from his glove compartment. He sucked in a lungful of cold air, letting the winter dampness cool his body and clear his head. Fifteen bullets. Another car coming. One target down, two scrambling out of the wrecked car—he must have wounded another of Smith’s Broadway Bad Boys when he’d returned fire on the approaching vehicle because he’d counted three passengers when he’d first spotted the back window going down and the semiautomatic coming out. And who knew how many more with how many weapons were zooming up the drive with one intent?
To take him out.
“KCPD!” Alex shouted. The bright security lights and patchwork shadows among the trees were wreaking havoc with his 20/20 vision. He couldn’t make a clean shot. “You’re firing on a police officer! Drop your weapons!”
“You can’t take all of us!” one of them shouted, peppering the opposite side of his truck with another spray of bullets. Alex crouched down, cocked his weapon.
“You’re dead!” another shouted. More bullets. Speeding car. “And then the bitch is dead, too!”
Like hell. Nobody was getting to Audrey as long as he was alive.
With the revving engine roaring in his ears, Alex swung around, bracing his arm between the open door and hood of his truck, and returned fire. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen. One kid went down, grabbing his leg and rolling.
On foot, Alex was evenly matched, but the car racing toward him gave his attackers an advantage he couldn’t hope to defeat on his own. Two more shots forced the last kid to the ground. Twelve. Eleven. Windows going down. Guns coming out.
Don’t react. Think. Do your job, Taylor.
Where the hell was backup?
Alex shifted behind the door and emptied six shots into the speeding Impala. Ten. Nine. The windshield cracked. Eight. Seven. A tire went out and the driver slammed on the brakes. Six. The windshield splintered. Five. The front-seat passenger dropped his gun to the bricks and jerked back inside the car.
Another shot pinged off the hood of the truck and he ducked back behind the door. “Come on!” he yelled to the fates, knowing the odds were shifting, and not necessarily in his favor.
He was up, aiming. Four. Three. Two. The kid on the ground wasn’t getting up again.
A siren wailed in his ears, battling with the strident pulsation of the estate’s security alarm. A car screeched its tires on the wet bricks, its engine bellowing like two massive storm systems charging closer and closer on a collision course. Two? Another vehicle was coming?
One bullet left. One freaking bullet.
He was outmanned. Outgunned. The kiss of death in any gang fight.
Alex glanced up at the mansion’s front door. His heart was pouring out with every pulse beat of blood that throbbed from his shoulder. “Audrey…”
Bam! The thunderous crash jolted through Alex.
But he wasn’t hurt. He hadn’t been hit.
He pulled up behind the truck’s door. “Hell, yeah!”
The cavalry had arrived.
Sergeant Delgado had rammed his big truck into the Impala’s back fender and was shoving it across the bricks until the screeching friction of the Impala’s tires ended with a crumpling smash against the porch’s brick foundation. Even before the gang’s car was wedged in tight, Trip Jones jumped out of the truck, his PSD rifle already aimed through the car’s back window.
“Taylor!” Trip shouted. “Report!”
Until Trip and Rafe had the guns secured from the gangbangers inside the Impala, Alex stayed hunkered down behind the protection of his vehicle. “SWAT is in the building,” he muttered to himself, almost light-headed with relief as he checked his weapon, verifying the last bullet. Inhaling a deep breath, he realized that the light-headedness might have something to do with all the blood dripping down his left arm.
“Taylor!”
Alex exhaled a cloudy breath into the chilled air and raised his voice. “I’m here. Ammo’s about gone. I’m hit. But it’s not bad. I’m not dying today, big guy.”
“Better not, shrimp.” Alex slowly straightened as he listened to Trip and Rafe shout orders to the perps inside the car. Two were already facedown in the slush with their hands cuffed behind their backs when Alex peeked through the windshield. Rafe had a third teen by the arm and was putting him down on the ground beside the others while Trip pulled the passenger Alex had wounded out of the front seat. It took a matter of seconds to trade a few curses, assess that the wound was superficial and put that one down on the ground, too.
Trip and Rafe exchanged nods before the sergeant called out. “Clear!” He pointed his gun over the four perps and motioned Trip over to Alex’s position. “Check him out.”
“Got it.”
“How many targets do we need to account for?” Captain Cutler’s voice buzzed over the radio inside Alex’s truck. With the team on-site, providing backup, Alex finally ventured from his hiding place to see the captain marching one handcuffed perp out of the trees. He nodded toward Alex. “You’re out of uniform, son.”
“Yes, sir.” They all were. Underneath their vests and gear, everyone was in off-duty clothes. But they’d all shown up. For him. For Audrey.
Alex was part of a team. He was part of this team.
“I made four perps in each car.” Alex gritted his teeth and grunted a curse as Trip probed his wound.
“And Miss Kline?”
“Inside.”
“It’s through and through.” Trip pulled off a black glove and wrapped his hand around Alex’s forearm, checking his clammy skin and halting him from mounting up the porch to get Audrey out of hiding. “What’s your body temp, frosty?”
“Good enough that you don’t need to baby me.” He pulled away from Trip’s first-aid efforts and headed for the front door of the Kline estate. His gun hung at his side from his good hand. “I need to make sure Audrey’s okay.”
“Wait a minute,” Rafe warned, his grousing tone echoing over the radio and from just a few yards away.
“Eight perps?” He pointed to the ground where Captain Cutler was placing the teenager he’d escorted from the woods. “We’ve got five here.”
Holden Kincaid strode up with the strap of his sniper rifle secured over his shoulder. In one smooth motion, he pulled it down into his hands, arming himself. “Driver and one on the ground are dead out in the trees. Didn’t spot any other movement out there.”
Alex’s gut twisted into a knot. “There’s another one.”
Each man instantly positioned his gun in a defensive stance. While Rafe kept the prisoners under control, the captain, Holden and Trip faced away from the vehicles, securing a circle, scanning the grounds. Captain Cutler was on his radio, calling in a fugitive alert to the KCPD cars they could hear approaching in the distance.
But Alex’s instincts—a gut-deep dread—was already pushing him up toward the front door.
“Alex?”
He halted in his tracks at Audrey’s hushed greeting from the open doorway.
He read the threat in the stark pale cast of her beautiful skin even before he saw the white-capped gangbanger walking through the front door behind her—with his gun boring into the base of her skull.
His old buddy Sly from the courthouse—the slick-talking twenty-something who’d denied exchanging any kind of message with Demetrius Smith—had Audrey in his grasp and a gun to her head. And the bastard thought he could bargain with Audrey’s life. “Now you fine officers put your guns down and get the hell out of my way. I’m taking your truck and I’m driving out of here. Or she dies.”
AUDREY SHIVERED WITH the chill that shook her from the inside out. But the cold steel pressed against her scalp didn’t scare her half as much as seeing all the blood staining Alex’s bare chest and arm. He was only a few yards away, just a couple of steps below the edge of the porch. But with the lights flashing and the alarm blaring and a frightened, angry man holding her in front of him like a shield, Audrey couldn’t reach out. She couldn’t run to Alex. She couldn’t help.
He was bleeding, maybe dying. Because of her.
No. Because Demetrius Smith and his thugs didn’t understand anything but power and intimidation. They didn’t understand compassion. They didn’t understand healthy communication. They didn’t understand caring.
But she did. Because of Alex Taylor, she did. A thought blossomed inside her head, even as Sly urged her forward, daring the five armed warriors facing him to back away.
Alex was breathing hard, his deep, rhythmic breaths forming white clouds in the air. But nothing could hide the rage and pain that darkened his eyes, or the deadly stillness that held every exposed muscle of his body tense and rigid. “Don’t do this, Sly. Let her go.”
She flinched as Sly poked the gun against her neck. “Shut up! I said put down your weapons. You—toss it in the bushes.” When Alex didn’t immediately comply, he jabbed her again. “Toss it!”
“I’m doing it.” Alex tossed his gun
into the hedge beside the steps. And though he motioned with his uninjured hand for the others to lay down their weapons at their feet, his eyes never left hers.
At the edges of her hearing, she heard Rafe Delgado mutter something like, “Don’t even try it.” A handcuffed man on the ground reconsidered his decision to get up.
This standoff wasn’t going to end well. When the shooting had ended and she’d heard the crash, Audrey had climbed out from beneath the desk in her father’s study and hurried out to see if Alex was dead. If her heart would be crushed. But she’d run into a desperate Sly instead. His crooked white cap so at odds with the deadly intent of this attack.
“Now back up!” Sly ordered.
Alex didn’t budge.
“You’re going to kill me, anyway,” Audrey pointed out, knowing that if she made it to that truck, her life would be over as soon as Sly drove her away. She looked straight at Alex, letting her fear and anger and desperate effort to be understood register on her face. “Isn’t that what you said inside, Sly? My head was the trophy that would secure your position as Big D’s number one lieutenant?”
“Shut up.” Her pushed her another step closer to Alex.
“You’ll never get out of here alive, kid,” Alex warned.
Sly wouldn’t listen. “Give me your keys.”
“Well…you weren’t nearly so eloquent, but I got the message. Kill me and Big D walks. And you’ll have earned his everlasting gratitude.”
“Red…”
Alex’s gaze darted to Sly and the gun and back to her before she continued. “I talked to Gallagher Security Services while I was hiding. I hear the sirens now. I asked them to send several ambulances—and all the backup they could spare. But I don’t need any more backup, do I? You can take him out, can’t you?”
