as small as he apparently thought she was. But the sound of footsteps, and Max’s head jerking toward the front of the store, had her squeezing into the impossibly small hole and pulling her legs in after her as tightly as she could. The sharp scrape of the metal shelf against her arm had her clenching her teeth. But she didn’t make a sound.
He leaned down, held a finger to his lips motioning for her to be quiet, and then he was gone.
She clutched the pistol in both hands, her pulse pounding so hard she felt light-headed. A tiny tapping sound started above her head. She twisted to see what was causing it and realized she was shaking so hard her shoulders were making the shelving above her rattle against its brackets. She drew several deep, slow breaths and concentrated on trying to calm down. The tapping stopped. Then she heard it, another sound—footsteps.
Coming toward her.
Her finger shook as she moved it to the trigger. Wait. It could be Max. She moved her finger back to the gun’s frame.
Oh, God. Please let it be Max coming back for her.
The tapping started again. She clamped her jaw and forced herself to hold still. The footsteps stopped. Was it one of the gunmen? Had he heard her?
Ever so carefully, she peeked through the gap above the boxes of pasta to her left but couldn’t see more than a few feet. Looking the other way yielded more of the same—boxes and jars blocking her view.
A squeak. Someone’s shoe against the floor?
Her hand started shaking violently, the pistol bobbing in her grip. A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of her face.
Another sound. Oh, God. Someone was behind her. She was surrounded. The person in her aisle shuffled forward, his shoes squeaking again.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Gunfire sounded from the front of the store. She sucked in a breath.
Bang!
Another shot rang out.
A new sound—scuffling feet not far from her hiding place. A muffled curse. A dull crack. More footsteps, hurrying toward her now.
This was it. He was coming for her.
She steadied the pistol, blew her breath out, tried to remember everything Max had taught her all those years ago. Exhale slowly, move your finger to the trigger, squeeze—
“Bex, it’s me. Don’t shoot.”
She blinked. Max? Wait, he wasn’t whispering.
She moved her finger away from the trigger just as he crouched down in front of her and peered into her hiding place.
“Max?” All of her questions and fears were in that one hoarsely uttered word.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s over.”
He gently took the pistol from her violently shaking hands, shoved it into his holster. And then he was scooping his arms beneath her, pulling her out of the maze of pasta and sauces and lifting her up against his chest.
The sight of a dark heap on the floor had her throwing her arms around Max’s neck and squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
“Is he...is he—”
“He’s alive. Don’t worry about him. I’ve got you, Bex. Everything’s going to be all right.”
She should have told him to put her down, that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own. But she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Her whole body seemed to have turned into a mass of shaking nerves. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and selfishly buried her face against Max’s chest while he carried her to the front of the store.
She sensed others around them now, heard someone ask Max something but didn’t catch his murmured reply. More sounds—voices, boots scuffling across the floor. Her traumatized mind grasped what was happening, that help had finally arrived, that the SWAT team must be clearing the store and securing the scene. But she couldn’t seem to force her eyes open or loosen her grip around Max’s neck as he carried her outside.
Max leaned against a Destiny PD patrol car in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot, in a circle with the five other officers who made up the SWAT team, all in full tactical gear except him. Since the danger was over, they were talking in detective mode, trying to figure out what had just happened.
There’d been no fatalities. The only people to get shot were two of the gunmen, courtesy of Max, and they were on their way to the hospital. The three other bad guys were on their way to the county lockup. But the grocery store and surrounding area were still bustling with firefighters and police officers and would be for quite a while as they sorted through the mess.
Chief Thornton, who’d been talking to the fire chief, shoved his way between team lead Dillon Gray and his best friend, second in command Chris Downing. The others—Donna Waters, Colby Vale and Randy Carter—widened the circle to make room.
Thornton looked at each of them, a ferocious frown on his brow. “Where’s the new guy?”
Max’s lips twitched at the shrugs and carefully blank looks on Dillon’s and Chris’s faces. The chief was having a heck of a time trying to force everyone to accept a new member onto their SWAT team and detective squad. Blake Sullivan was still learning the ropes of Destiny PD and no one was exactly rolling out a welcome mat for him.
The guy was former military and had been a detective in Knoxville before relocating here. He’d made it clear on his first day that he expected to step right into the action. It had been a bitter pill for him to realize he had to spend several months as a uniformed beat cop first—as they all had—to learn the station’s routine and his way around the county before becoming an active member of the team.
Thornton turned around, looking for his beleaguered new hire, then put his hands on his hips. He’d obviously spotted Blake, fifty yards away, looking bored as he leaned against the ambulance where Bex was being examined by an EMT.
“Why isn’t he wearing tactical gear like the rest of you?” Thornton demanded, directing his question at Dillon.
“When Max’s call came in, we had to hustle,” Dillon said. “Didn’t have time to coddle a newbie and bring him in on the assault.”
The chief narrowed his eyes. “This would have been a perfect opportunity to show him the ropes. Next time the team is activated, you had better include him. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir. I hear you.”
Max grinned. He wouldn’t bet a plug nickel that Blake would be included on their next callout. At this point, it was a matter of principle. Blake would have to show some humility before Dillon would back down. And judging by how distant and arrogant the new guy seemed most of the time, that moment of acceptance wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“Colby, go get Blake.” The chief jerked his head toward the ambulance.
Colby sighed and jogged across the parking lot.
“And
