by the register, talking to the owner, Sandra Yu. Priscilla froze. Her pulse kicked into high gear. Before she could slip out the back door and contact Mac again, Sandra turned and spotted her.
“Priscilla?”
Priscilla considered ignoring the summons and bolting, but the blond man had had numerous opportunities to hurt her if he’d wanted to do so. That lessened her fear enough to allow her curiosity to pique as to why he had been following her—and what he was doing in the salon.
“Yes, Sandra?” Priscilla pasted a smile on her face and joined them.
“This is Mr. Long, your two o’clock.” Sandra smiled at Mr. Long. “Priscilla’s one of our best stylists.”
“I’ve heard.” His voice triggered a hidden awareness. She’d heard him speak before, but before the memory could resurface fully, the impression vanished.
Instead, Priscilla took a deep breath and gestured toward her station. “Right this way, Mr. Long.” Cutting his hair would give her the perfect opportunity to question him under the guise of small talk—and wielding sharp scissors would offer some protection if his intentions weren’t on the up-and-up. With another prayer for God’s protection, she settled her client in the salon chair.
Lucas Benedict Langsdale III ran a hand through his shaggy hair. There had been a flicker of recognition in Priscilla’s eyes when he spoke. Clearly, his voice had jarred a memory from their shared past, but other than that brief pause, she acted as if she didn’t know him.
With effort, he kept his expression impassive. He’d play along with her game for a while, but soon enough he’d get the answers to questions he’d been waiting seven years to ask.
“Wash and cut?” Priscilla tapped the back of his chair.
“Both, please.” At least that would buy Luc more time with her to see if she was pretending not to know him. A bride who skipped out on her husband mere hours after their wedding had a lot of explaining to do. Not that her explanation would make him change his mind about officially dissolving their short union.
She draped a cape around him, her fingers lightly skimming the back of his neck as she fastened the snaps. The large mirror directly in front of him afforded an opportunity to watch as she combed out his thick hair with gentle tugs.
Raising her eyes to meet his in the mirror, she cocked her head to one side. “You want the same style you currently have?”
“That sounds good. I like it a bit shorter around the ears—can’t stand to have hair in my ears.” Luc closed his mouth, willing himself not to bombard her with questions about why she’d skipped out shortly after saying “I do.” When he couldn’t find her, Luc had filed a missing person’s report with the Las Vegas police, which had turned up nothing. It was as if Priscilla had vanished into thin air. That first long year, he’d searched for her off and on, but eventually, he’d resigned himself to her not wanting to be found. Thinking that perhaps their Las Vegas wedding hadn’t been legal after all, Luc had decided to forget the whole thing. But three years ago, an online post about a celebrity who had nearly committed bigamy because he had mistakenly thought his Las Vegas wedding license wasn’t real pushed Luc to reinvestigate Priscilla’s disappearance. After confirming through a Nevada attorney that their marriage was indeed legal, he had finally tracked her down.
“It’s easier to cut your hair shorter first. Then I’ll shampoo and style it.” Priscilla picked up a pair of scissors, and Luc noticed her hand trembled slightly.
Maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to his presence as he thought. Of all the scenarios he had imagined when coming face-to-face with Priscilla again, Luc had never anticipated a total lack of recognition. God, what should I do now—ask my questions or wait to see what she says?
He stayed silent as her fingers in his hair brought forward vivid memories of their time together at the Last Chance Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. He closed his eyes, letting go for a moment all the unanswered questions, and tried to relax as she touched his hair.
The front window shattered and an object zipped by him. His eyes popped open as someone screamed. Then something whizzed by his chest, striking the wall to the right of him with a thump.
“That’s gunfire!” Luc slid out of the chair onto the floor as the pop-pop-pop of three consecutive shots mingled with the sound of more breaking glass. Shards from the mirror at Priscilla’s station rained down on his head. Where was Priscilla?
Luc shook his head to rid it of bits of glass as he frog-walked behind the next station, then saw Priscilla running toward the back of the store. Lord, please keep her safe. Help me to protect her. Another hail of bullets shattered more glass and mirrors, eliciting another round of screams from stylists and clients hiding behind stations and chairs. Sirens wailed in the distance but there wasn’t time to wait for law enforcement to rescue Priscilla.
He used two vanities as cover, but had to take the last few feet in the open. As he bent over and headed down the short hallway where he’d seen Priscilla go, something buzzed past his left upper arm, bringing with it a short burst of pain. Ignoring it, Luc pressed forward just in time to see Priscilla fling open a door marked Private.
Luc reached the opened door seconds after her and hurled himself inside. His heart pounded as he straightened and spotted the back exit door just closing. Catching the door before it closed, he burst through it into a narrow alleyway behind the strip mall with a large stand of trees opposite.
A quick look to the left showed nothing, but to the right, Priscilla had nearly reached the end of the alleyway. The sound of gunfire faded as sirens indicated first responders had reached the shopping center. Behind the strip mall, the stillness belied the chaos that had erupted on the other side of the buildings. Luc shook off the throbbing of his left arm and ran after her, catching up as she veered through the trees on a dirt path he hadn’t seen from the alleyway. Just inside the woods, she paused near a junction where the dirt trail connected with a wider paved one, panting with her hand on her side.
“Are you okay?” He struggled to control his own breathing, which came out in gasps.
She nodded. “Just winded.”
“Thank God.” Luc couldn’t quite process what had happened. “Someone was shooting into the salon.” He gently shook his head to dislodge more pieces of glass. Why would someone fire a gun into a hair salon on a slow Monday afternoon?
Priscilla pulled out her cell phone and punched in a number. “Shots fired. At the salon. Person we discussed earlier with me. We’re on the trail behind the shopping center.”
Luc almost didn’t catch her wording. A person she’d discussed earlier with who? He would have to figure out what she meant later, when he wasn’t winded from running from an active shooter. His left arm pulsated with pain as the adrenaline started to ebb.
For now, he kept his attention on Priscilla. Her breath hitched as she held the phone to her ear with a hand that shook.
Then a couple with two puppies straining at their leashes rounded the corner. Luc immediately moved to shield Priscilla from the strangers.
One of the puppies stopped to sniff Luc’s shoe. The man laughed as he tugged on the leash. “Sorry, he’s the overly friendly one.”
From
