sudden silence urging her on.
The truck roared around the corner to the entrance to the parking lot, gone from her sight, albeit only temporarily. Perhaps she could get inside before he pulled into the lot.
She murmured another prayer—Lord, get me inside safely—and clutched her tote. Her lunch break had been much later than usual, more of an early supper, and shadows were just beginning to gather as the sun sank lower in the sky. The trees that stood in stately rows in front of the building seemed to snake out clutching arms, and she shook her head to clear the wanderings of her imagination.
Woman, pull yourself together. This is no way for a future Juris Doctor to behave. One more year until graduation, and then she hoped, she prayed, that she had a bright future ahead.
Only a couple of other vehicles sat in the lot, and they were empty.
She glanced up at the granite that shone pink in the evening sun. The artificial light from the offices of the upper floor spilled out to the side of the building and battled with the sunshine, an eerie illumination that skittered a chill up her arms. Safety was up there, just a few steps away. She tightened the belt on her black cardigan and tried to square her shoulders as she rushed toward the door. The black truck careened around the corner and paused at the entrance of the parking lot, as if the driver was assessing the situation and possible risks. Then it turned into the lot.
Alarm shook Hannah, goose bumps popping out on her forearms. Still looking back at the truck, she lengthened her strides toward the door, clutching her bag as a shield. If she made it to safety, she might laugh later about the absurdity of a little bit of canvas and a coin purse protecting her from the weapon that the menace in the truck wielded against her.
She approached the front of the building at a half run, sensing as much as hearing the passenger-side window of the truck power down. Her hand on the door handle, her eyes closed to whatever danger might be coming, she heard the door open and a firm hand gripped her bicep. A scream stuck in her throat as a shot fired. The hand pulled her inside and down to the floor as bits of granite rained on the walk in front of the door. She landed on her knees on the cool marble floor.
“Over there.” A husky male voice commanded her to crawl in the direction he pointed, to the side away from the door. He stood in front of her, shielding her with his body.
She clutched her bag, gulping air, willing her breathing to slow to a normal rate. Was she safe now?
“Are you okay?” Her rescuer turned toward her.
Hannah was met with rich, dark chocolate eyes, an intense gaze that summoned a wave of recognition and an attraction she had thought was long dead. “Derek?”
* * *
He watched the truck turn in a circle, surveying the area, then angle toward the door. The driver-side window lowered. Derek Chambers kept his SIG Sauer down but ready.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Hannah rotate and begin to stand. He held a hand out to stop her. “Yes, it’s me. Stay down for now. Against the wall.”
She complied. “Who’s out there?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. I’m your six-o’clock appointment, but let me resolve this situation first.” He’d been sent with some specific information to give her, but now was not the time for that conversation. Not with a shooter outside. The faint wail of sirens drifted in the door. “Did you call 911 already?”
The truck engine revved, and Derek stole a glance her way to see Hannah pull her purse close as she struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “Yes. Several minutes ago. Now who is that guy?”
An excellent question, but first... “Are you all right? The bullet struck the side of the building, but I think I got you inside before the granite shattered. What about your hands and knees?” He let his gaze sweep the street and the parking lot. The guy in the truck had certainly chosen the right time to make his move. The professional district of little Heartwood Hill was deserted at this hour.
Derek heard Hannah rub her hands together. “I’m a little sore, but I’ll be okay thanks to you.” A second glance revealed she was stretching her shoulders. “This isn’t the first time he’s shot at me. He blew a big chunk of brick off a building a block or so over. I think my bigger problem is that man in the truck.”
“Yes. I heard the shot and was on my way to help you.” He could have gone straight up to the offices when he arrived for the appointment, but he hadn’t wanted their first encounter after so many years to be in the presence of her employer. Waiting for her in the lobby had seemed like the best plan.
A gun barrel appeared in the window of the truck. Derek’s senses rushed to full alert. He raised his weapon and aimed at the driver-side door as he maneuvered behind the granite exterior wall of the office building as much as the structure and his bulk would allow.
Before he could decide whether to shoot out a tire, the wall exploded next to Derek. The shot missed him and Hannah, who was well-covered, but a second pockmark now marred the building. A couple of cars sped past on the main road, and the truck peeled out of the parking lot, raising the window as it went.
That last one was a warning shot, especially with the sirens rapidly approaching, and Derek got the message loud and clear. The shooter would be back. That was fine with Derek. He would still be protecting Hannah, whether she welcomed it or not.
He holstered his SIG and inhaled deeply, willing his heart to stop racing. But the fervent beat of his pulse only briefly slowed, because then he turned and helped the beautiful woman he’d just rescued to her feet. He put his hands on her upper arms and held her, a warm, comfortable feeling that summoned up pleasant memories of the past that trickled through him...for a nanosecond. A look of surprise and dismay flitted across her face like spring storm clouds and acted as a splash of cold rain on him. He had a job to do, and he was determined to do it well. The FBI would not be disappointed in him, a new academy graduate. Derek pushed her away, out of sight of the door and nearby window, reminding himself that it was also best to push her out of his mind. There was one task to do here, and it didn’t involve dredging up old feelings from the past. Judging by the arch of her eyebrows and the pinch of her mouth as she studied him, he wouldn’t have any problem keeping himself detached.
But the tiny lines around her pretty brown eyes softened as she considered him. She had matured into a lovely, self-confident woman, and there didn’t seem to be any remnant of the awkwardness of her teen years. Her petite frame stood a few inches shorter than him, and her soft brown hair fell over her trembling shoulders as she looked up at him. “What do you mean you got here just in time? Does this have something to do with my appointment?”
As the adrenaline of the rescue subsided, a subtle scent of flowers began to tickle his nose, probably from Hannah. He retrieved his badge and showed it to her. “I’m with the FBI now. I’ve been sent with some information that directly affects you.” He averted his gaze. If only he had a script, then he might sound suave and confident. Desperation welled up as he struggled for words to comfort the stricken woman standing before him. The sirens screamed down the street and advanced to the parking lot, saving him from further discussion, at least for the time being. “I need to talk to the police first, but then let’s talk privately. That’s why I made the appointment.”
“Sure. Upstairs. My cubical.”
The elevator dinged its arrival, and Reid Palmer, Derek’s friend from their prior days together on the Heartwood Hill police force emerged. He hurried to Derek and shook his hand, nodding
