face Max again.
She tried to convince herself that it wasn’t cowardice that had her wanting to run—it was self-preservation. Because it had taken years to tape and glue the pieces of her broken heart back together. But shattering it again had only taken one angry look from Max Remington.
* * *
MAX SHUFFLED IMPATIENTLY in line behind Mable Humphries. It was the express lane, ten items or less. But she had thirty items. And the only other register that was open had three customers waiting with overflowing carts.
He blew out a frustrated breath, then forced a smile when the elderly woman looked at him.
“How are you today, Mrs. Humphries?” he asked.
“You sure are sweet to ask, Detective Remington. My joints have been aching something fierce today, and not just from the chill outside. I think we’re in for a storm soon. Don’t you?”
He gave her a noncommittal answer and she prattled on about her aches and pains. He wished he could just ignore her outright or tell her to hurry up. But the manners his mother and father had drilled into him couldn’t be ignored.
Except, apparently, where Bexley Kane was concerned.
A twinge of guilt shot through him over the way he’d treated her. Or, rather, ignored her.
Destiny was too small for him not to have heard the rumors. He knew she was back in town because of her mother’s recent passing. But he hadn’t been prepared for actually coming face-to-face with her after all these years. He’d just...reacted. All the lines he’d rehearsed in case he ever saw her again had disappeared in a fog of rage and hurt. So he’d done the only thing he could safely do. He’d kept his mouth shut.
As Mrs. Humphries droned on, Max nodded in the appropriate places but otherwise tuned her out.
Bex. It was hard to believe that she was really here. Was she staying? Permanently? Based on her comments to Mr. Dawson about him making her “trip” bearable, Max didn’t think so. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the gossip swirling around town about her instead of taking pains to avoid it every time her name came up. Then maybe he’d know what Bex’s plans were so he could take the necessary precautions to ensure that he didn’t run into her again.
He’d already done his duty by Bex’s mom, the sweet woman whom he and half the town had expected would become his mother-in-law one day. He’d gone to the memorial service her church had put together, a service without a casket or even an urn since her body had been shipped out of town to be interred somewhere else. As far as he knew, Bex hadn’t bothered to go to the church. For his part, he’d arrived early and left fast, just in case she did show.
His mourning was done in private, when he’d planted some white lilies in Mrs. Kane’s garden as a tribute to her. They’d always been her favorite, and he’d planted a new lily in her yard every Mother’s Day for the past ten years.
“It sure was nice running into you, Detective.” Mable’s gnarled hand gripped his with surprising strength. “Hope to see you at the town picnic next weekend. I’m making some of my famous sweet potato pie.”
“I wouldn’t miss it, ma’am.” He gently extricated his hand and returned her wave as she pushed her cart to the exit.
The young brunette at the cash register scanned Max’s sandwich and handed it back to him.
“You want to make that a meal deal with chips and a drink? I can have someone run to the deli and—”
“Just the sandwich, thanks.” He quickly paid and let out a breath of relief that he was finally about to get out of purgatory. He wasn’t even hungry anymore. All he wanted to do was return to the police station, immerse himself in work and try to forget all about Bexley Kane.
“Everybody do what we say and no one gets hurt!”
Max jerked his head toward the entrance. Five masked gunmen with assault rifles had just run in through the front door and were pointing their guns toward the handful of customers at the other register.
The cashier beside him started screaming. One of the gunmen swung his rifle her way. Max dived over the counter, pulling the girl to the floor seconds before the countertop above them exploded in a hail of gunfire.
Bex flattened herself against a cereal box endcap, pressing both of her hands against her mouth to keep from crying out.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Bam! Bam!
She dropped to the floor, her breaths coming out in short pants. What in the world was happening? Who would fire guns inside a Piggly Wiggly? The answer, of course, was obvious. Someone was holding up the place. But she still couldn’t believe it was happening. Not here. Not in the tiny town of Destiny.
Thank God Max had plenty of time to have left before the gunman or gunmen had shown up.
And wasn’t that a crazy thought, being glad the police officer was out of harm’s way when he was the one person who might have been able to help her and any others trapped inside?
A scream sounded from the front of the store. Someone else shouted. Footsteps pounded down an aisle not too far from where Bex lay on the floor. If someone was holding up the store, wouldn’t they have forced the manager to open the safe in the front office? They wouldn’t be running down aisles and still shooting minutes later, would they?
Bam! Bam!
That sounded like a pistol.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat.
Automatic gunfire.
She pressed a hand to her throat. Was that a gunfight? Whoever had the pistol was at a serious disadvantage.
Another shout sounded. More footsteps.
Bam!
“Where is she?” a man yelled. “She wasn’t with the ones who locked themselves in the cooler.”
“How the hell should I know? Reggie said she was ready to check out. She should have been up front when we got here.”
“Find her. And find that stupid cop. He’s screwing everything up and I’m gonna blow his brains out.”
Oh, no. Please, God, don’t be talking about Max.
But in her gut, she knew they were. He was the only policeman she’d seen in the store just a few minutes before the gunmen came in. No one else could have gotten here this fast. He either hadn’t left when she’d thought he had, or he’d run back into the store when he saw the gunmen go inside.
Footsteps sounded again, much closer this time. If they turned down the back aisle that ran the width of the store, they’d see her. She had to move, hide. Or better yet, find Max and get them both out of the store.
Right, like she was GI Jane or something. The only danger she faced on a typical day was whether she might get a splinter in her finger from one of the pieces of furniture that she
