man she’d pictured in her head. The way Brandt had described him, she’d been expecting a doddering computer geek with a pocket protector, a horseshoe of thinning hair and a circle of white tape repairing the bridge of his glasses. The one grainy photo she’d managed to find on the internet had only hinted at the man crouched beside her.
Jordan did not wear glasses, and there was nothing doddering about him.
He was handsome.
Awareness jolted through her, and she shoved the unwelcome feeling aside. After the initial shock and grief of losing Brandt, she’d retreated into numbness. Feeling nothing was better than feeling the pain.
A teeth-rattling shiver traveled the length of her body. “I’m c-cold.”
“Take this.” Jordan shrugged out of his jacket and draped the material around her shoulders. “The paramedics will check if you need stitches. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“My ankle, I think.”
“Let me take a look.” He gently touched the slight swelling. “It’s not too bad.”
She glanced at her engagement ring, and her stomach clenched. Brandt had tumbled into her life with all the chaotic enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy. He’d been warm and affectionate, passionate and quick-tempered. She’d been charmed, dazed and knocked for a loop. In her family, affection was reserved, and praise was tempered. With Brandt, everything had been overwhelming and captivating.
Her friends and family didn’t understand her grief for someone she’d dated for only six months. They thought the engagement was rushed. They hadn’t gotten a chance to know him before he traveled overseas. They hadn’t gotten to read his emails and Skype with him. They hadn’t gotten to see the two of them together beyond a few events and a hasty farewell party. But from the moment she’d seen Jordan this morning, she’d sensed he recognized the depth of her loss.
The sirens grew louder, and Jordan grimaced. “When the police get here, it’ll be like someone kicked the ant bed. They’ll swarm us. Don’t make any sudden moves.”
Lucy glanced at the clock. Not even two minutes had passed. That first shot had changed the course of so many lives in the blink of an eye.
“O-okay.”
“You’re in shock,” he said, and she focused on his calm reassurance. “Take a few deep breaths. You’ll be okay.”
You’ll be okay.
Such an odd thing to say. Your fiancé is dead, but you’ll be okay. Someone tried to kill you, but you’ll be okay. Your world is falling apart around you, but you’ll be okay.
A deafening cacophony of emergency vehicles sent her head pounding. Tires screeched. Voices called. She was separating from herself, viewing the events from a distance, as though recalling a nightmare instead of living one. For the first time she noticed her cheek was throbbing. She’d been numb to the pain until now.
Her phone buzzed, and she automatically glanced down. A text alert flashed on the screen followed by a photo.
Someone had taken a picture of the shattered coffee shop window from the street.
A sense of horror enveloped her. A part of her had wanted to believe that she was connecting dots that weren’t supposed to be connected. She had a vivid imagination, after all. She always had her head in the clouds.
“You did good back there,” Jordan said, his words barely registering through the cloud of shock. “You didn’t lose your cool.”
Another message appeared. She blinked rapidly and the letters blurred at the edges. This threat was immediate and shockingly real.
Are you ready to meet?
A second photo appeared. The outside of her house. This wasn’t the end.
This was the beginning.
Jordan paced.
The aftermath of the shooting was like watching a film of something exploding, then viewing that same film in reverse. Just as quickly as the gunman had thrown them into chaos, law enforcement had arrived and gathered the pandemonium into a crude sort of order.
Everyone had a task. Everyone had something to do. Everyone but Jordan.
As the time ticked away, he paced. He scowled. He glanced at his phone for the hundredth time.
Playing the role of patient bystander was outside of his skill set.
An older, heavyset cop approached him. “You Jordan Harris?”
“That’s me.”
“You can see your wife now.”
Jordan started. “Lucy?”
The cop frowned. “You got more than one wife?”
“Nope. Uh, lead the way.”
There’d be time enough to sort the details later. Knowing Lucy was in danger had taken a decade off his life.
Perched on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance, she had a bandage on her cheek, and the paramedics had wrapped her ankle. To his relief, she appeared exhausted but otherwise not seriously harmed.
The officer glanced between them. “The detective in charge is finishing up with another witness. He’ll speak with you both as soon as he can.”
The older cop turned away.
A black SUV with tinted windows pulled into the parking lot, and Jordan stowed his phone. Local law enforcement wasn’t going to be pleased about having their jurisdiction usurped, but this was a matter of national security.
He reached for Lucy. “Let’s go.”
“Wait… What?” She gestured with her thumb. “Aren’t we supposed to stay?”
“Nope.” He glanced at her ankle. “Can you walk?”
“I, uh… I think so. Maybe.”
He reached for her, letting his hands hover near her shoulders. “This will be easier if I carry you. Are you okay with that?”
“I guess, but I’m too heavy.”
He scooped her into his arms.
At the feel of her, a shock ran through his arms and landed with a sizzle in his chest.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got a Bowflex.”
Lucy chuckled. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m very manly.” Her laughter warmed him, and one edge of his mouth kicked up. “I also chop wood and jog uphill carrying sacks of concrete mix.”
She looped her arms around his neck. “Now
