knew she was scared, but he needed Esther to help him get them out of this situation. “Run for the door,” he shouted at the same time he started firing.
The two men broke apart and dropped down with guns blazing, but Cullen kept advancing, zigzagging behind tables and half-finished sculpture pieces. Somehow through the haze of darkness and with the blessing of surprise on his side, he managed to stay out of the line of fire.
He had the SIG-Sauer in one hand and the blow torch in the other. He triggered the gun, marveling at the way it hissed in his right hand. The blow torch did the same in his left, sending a white-hot heat toward the two bumbling thugs. He wasn’t really aiming for anyone in particular. He mainly wanted to scare these two so Esther could get away. Which was probably what she’d been hoping for all along. She’d be gone in a flash, but at least she’d be safe. Or she might use his unusable, unloaded Remington six-shooter on him—hitting him over the head.
“Go, Esther!”
But prim little Esther surprised him.
“Not without you,” she shouted, the big gun in her tiny hand.
She headed for the locked door, but instead of testing the six-shooter, she managed to find a few ceramic pots and other interesting weapons along the way. And in spite of being a little spit of a thing, the woman had an impressive aim. She heaved a pot, followed by a crude-looking knife that could only be some sort of sculpture tool. While neither made a direct hit, her projectiles did stop the two attackers from advancing. Then she lifted the Remington with both hands, as if she actually knew what she was doing. It didn’t fire, of course.
This might turn out to be fun, if he didn’t die.
More importantly, all fun and frolic aside, he couldn’t let Esther Carlisle die. He’d made a promise to her father that he’d protect her. Cullen wasn’t known for keeping promises, but this one was important to the tune of millions of dollars. It had taken him several months and a whole lot of territory to finally make it here to fulfill that promise. He wasn’t about to give in so easily now.
So he shot one last flare from the blow torch and glanced back to see Esther standing at the open door, her hands frozen in place on the Remington. Then he dropped the torch and used both hands to hold the gun steady as he went after the two men.
And this time, he aimed to kill.
* * *
Esther’s heart seemed to hit with all the velocity of those zinging bullets. She heard the sound of traffic and people, heard that sweet saxophone playing up near the café. She sent out a prayer that they would all be safe.
“Cullen, hurry,” she called, wanting with every fiber of her being to run. The exquisite gun she held was useless, but it gave her a sense of security. Besides, she was pretty sure it could still be dangerous, even with an empty chamber.
No matter, she couldn’t leave him.
And that made her more angry than frightened. Why was she willing to stand here and be killed for a man who’d crashed into her world without explanation and changed it without any apparent qualms? Because, he brought her father’s letters with him. That meant for some strange reason her father had reached out to this man, had trusted him. Maybe Cullen had some answers. Answers she needed, since her father hadn’t confided in her about much of anything.
Cringing as he ducked, Esther watched Cullen shooting his way across her studio. So far, so good. Then she heard sirens.
“Cullen, someone must have called the police.” Mr. Reynolds, obviously. His hearing was remarkable for a seventy-year-old. And his wife, Helen, was spry and sharp and interested in the things going on around her. Esther hoped neither of them decided to pop over and investigate.
Cullen hurried to the door, then turned to fire a couple more shots. At least the two men were pinned down at the front of the studio. Probably with singed eyebrows and burning skin.
Cullen rushed her out the door and closed it tight, locking it to be double sure. Then he slipped the pistol back in the shoulder bag he’d managed to hang on to and handed her back her phone. “I think you had a call.”
Shocked at how efficiently the man multitasked during a shoot-out, she gave him the extra gun and took the phone. “It’s Ted. He’s my bookkeeper and sales associate. He was sick today so he’s probably calling to see how my day went.”
Cullen did a quick scan of the nearby buildings as they headed east up St. Peter toward the Mississippi River. Off to the left the St. Louis Cathedral was bathed in the golden light of dusk. And directly across, Jackson Square teemed with tourists and locals alike. Nobody seemed to care that shots had been fired and sirens were wailing.
“What are you going to tell him?”
Esther lifted her brows, took a deep breath, then punched numbers. “That everything is fine, thank you.”
But in her heart, she had a funny feeling that everything wasn’t fine. In fact, holding on to the handsome, capable, daring man who’d done his best to protect her—after he’d ruined her day and her shop—she was pretty sure her life had changed forever.
And the scary part? She’d never felt more alive.
THREE
“Ted, tell the police it was a break-in. I’d locked the door but hadn’t set the alarm. Two men came in and started shooting, but I ran to the back and hid in the studio. Then I managed to get away.”
She heard Ted’s deep exhale. “They shot at you? I can’t believe this. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to reassure him. “Check on Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds for me. I’m headed back there now. I’ll come around front.”
“Good, because I got here and the police are asking all sorts of questions. And Mr. Reynolds is talking to them right now. Of course, Miss Helen is telling anyone who’ll listen that we all almost got murdered. But are you okay? I mean, really okay?”
Ted fretted about things, especially her health and well-being. “I’m fine but rattled. I could have stayed to fight them but they had guns and I—”
She stopped, refusing to lie, but she’d also left out the part about the handsome tomb raider who’d helped her escape, and Esther was glad of that for now. She’d have to tell Ted about that later, when her assistant wasn’t about to hyperventilate. Later, when she could think straight.
Of course, if Helen Reynolds had seen Cullen, the whole city would know about him soon enough.
She hung up, then stared at Cullen. “I have to go file a police report. I can’t hide this from them. This is my livelihood and I’ll have to file an insurance report.”
He did another scan of the area. “Okay. I get that. But we need to talk.”
“Yes, I’m all ears,” she retorted. “I think you have more on your travel itinerary than searching for diamonds, right?”
He didn’t even bother trying to look innocent. “Yes, and I’ll explain. But not here, okay? Is there someplace besides your shop where we can meet back up? Maybe somewhere I can hide out for a while?”
Esther
