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  Marla’s gaze hardened, her face turning ugly with hatred. “And by the time they get here, you two will be what I believe are referred to as ‘charred remains.’ I’ll be sure to frantically make another emergency call once you’re both in there with the door locked.” She smirked. “I’ll let them know how I saw Frank Singleton speeding up the road. And, oh yes, I’ll be terribly upset when I tell them how I couldn’t get the door open because the heat was too intense.” She motioned with the gun, smile gone. “Go, into the boathouse. With little Miss Perfect here gone and no heirs, I’ll be able to buy this property for pennies. I’m expecting to make a very tidy profit.”

  When neither of them moved, she pointed the gun at Emma, tightened her trigger finger, and fired. Emma jerked, she could have sworn she felt the air roil from the bullet as it whizzed past her head.

  “I’m a good shot so let’s say that was a warning. Into the boathouse.”

  Emma felt Brad shift, then tense as he looked over Marla’s shoulder. He called out sharply, “Warren, back off, she’s armed.”

  Marla swung around but realized the trick too late. With a lightning-fast move, Brad leapt forward, his left hand reaching out to grab the gun in her outstretched hand. Emma stood frozen in place. Brad’s momentum took both him and Marla to the ground. The sound of another gunshot exploded into the air, and galvanized, Emma jumped forward. Brad gripped Marla’s hand still fisted around the gun, slamming it into the dirt. Emma saw her chance and stomped on Marla’s wrist. The woman screamed in pain or rage, Emma wasn’t sure which, but Marla’s grip loosened and Brad took the gun. He quickly set the safety and tucked it into his belt at the small of his back. His movements looked awkward.

  “Emma, unsnap the pouch on my belt and get the handcuffs for me.”

  With her weight still on Marla’s wrist, Emma turned. Her stomach took a sickening roll. A patch of deep red spread slowly down Brad’s side.

  “Brad, you’ve been shot.”

  “I’m fine. Get the cuffs.” Tension made his voice terse, and he seemed to be making an effort to enunciate each word.

  She located the cuffs and bent down to tighten the metal band around the wrist she’d stepped on. Brad had his knee pressed into Marla’s back and brought around the other wrist to be cuffed. Throughout the process the mayor laid face turned to the side in the dirt, motionless, eyes staring blankly ahead. The fight seemed to have simply seeped out of her. Brad rose to his feet and let out a stifled groan, jaw clenched.

  “Brad, sit down, we need to get the bleeding stopped.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and urged him toward a shady spot against a tree trunk. She glanced at Marla and decided the woman wasn’t going anywhere.

  “She pulled the trigger when I took her down and the damn bullet ricocheted.” His voice sounded strained. “I’ll be fine.”

  But Emma wasn’t so sure. He leaned on her more heavily, and when they got to the tree, he slowly eased himself down. With shaking hands, Emma grabbed the radio from his belt and relayed the need for emergency aid. Blood soaked Brad’s left side down to his belt and his face looked pale. Dread formed a balled fist in her throat, her mind scrambling frantically for the best way to help him.

  “Sit back, Brad. I need to stop the bleeding.” He leaned against the tree, and Emma pulled his shirt free from his belt and unbuttoned it with fingers that trembled, careful to keep from jarring him.

  “Your hands are so nice. I like them on me.”

  She looked at him sharply and was surprised to find him smiling crookedly. She pulled open his shirt. The bullet had struck the right side of his chest under his shoulder. She pulled off her own shirt, glad she had worn a tank top underneath it. She folded the soft cotton into a bandage and pressed it firmly to the wound. Shifting to look behind his shoulder, she could see no exit wound. She glanced at his face, alarmed at the glassy look in his eyes.

  “Brad, I think I’ve slowed the bleeding. The ambulance will be here soon and we’ll get you to the hospital.”

  “Sweetheart.” His voice lacked its usual strong, assured tone. “Give me a kiss.”

  She stared at him, then shook her head. “Blood loss has made you loopy.” Her ears strained to hear sirens, to know help was coming.

  “Not loopy. Give me a kiss, make me feel better.” Emma’s heart melted at his lopsided grin.

  Leaning forward, she pressed her mouth to his, alarmed at the chill of his lips against hers. “I’d give you a million kisses if they would really make you feel better.” She could hear them now, the faint wailing of emergency vehicles rushing up the highway. She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, willing him to stay strong.

  “See? I feel better already. When are you marrying me?” Her heart stumbled, and Emma looked on in alarm as his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness. His radio buzzed and she grabbed it, speaking urgently to guide the emergency personnel to their location. The pad she’d made from her shirt had nearly soaked through by the time the crew arrived in a flurry of activity. After her assurances that she wasn’t hurt, the paramedics eased her aside and exchanged her soaked shirt for clean bandages. She stood back, eyes on Brad’s face while they worked on him. Firefighters in heavy gear swarmed past, pulling thick hoses toward the boathouse.

  “Emma.” She jerked as if touched by a live wire. Warren stood a few feet away with Monica, his expression grim. Each of them gripped an arm of the disheveled mayor. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  Even though the sun shone hotly, Emma shivered in the light breeze. The paramedics prepared to move Brad onto a gurney and she sent Warren a distressed look.

  “Marla was trying to force us into the boathouse. She had a gun. Brad has it. She wanted us, or more precisely me, dead so she could get my property.”

  The fact that Brad had nearly died, that he could still die, because of Marla was not lost on Emma. Marla glared at Emma who felt no compassion for the handcuffed woman. Marla had put her ego, her pride, and her vanity into building herself up into a power broker in the region. But her greed and quest for control had fed a hubris that had led to her downfall, and she hadn’t been bothered if others went down with her. Now she would have to adjust to the new reality that she was a criminal and was likely facing a long stretch in prison.

  One of the medics came forward to hand Marla’s pistol to Monica. She produced an evidence bag and he dropped the gun into it.

  “Can I ride to the hospital with him?” Emma asked the medic.

  “No, ma’am. We’re taking him to the hospital in Bishop if you want to follow us there.” He rushed back to help push the gurney into the ambulance.

  Warren tugged on Marla’s arm. “I’ll get this one locked up and meet you there.” He eyed her critically. “Are you all right? Is all that blood on you from Brad, or are you hurt?”

  Emma looked down. Smears of blood colored her hands and forearms and splotches stained her white tank. She shook her head numbly. “It’s Brad’s.”

  Monica said, “C’mon, Emma, let’s go back to your cabin and you can get cleaned up, and I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  Emma took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to pull herself together, then nodded her agreement.

  ***

  Emma sat anxiously in a chair next to the bed where Brad slept. Events of the hours since the ambulance had raced away, sirens screaming, formed a tumultuous jumble in her head. Washing the blood from her hands and arms and watching the swirls of red disappear down the drain. The ride to the hospital with Monica in a police cruiser. Then the agonizingly long wait until the young doctor with tired eyes had come out to tell them they’d removed the bullet. It had not struck any organs or bones but the doctor had talked about “blast effect,” the damage caused to the surrounding tissue. He expected Brad to recover fully but for the coming week the police chief could expect to be in considerable pain.

  Hospital smells of antiseptic and strong cleaners brought back stark memories. Most vivid were those last few d
ays before Emma’s mother died, sitting by her bed, eating out of vending machines. And then the growing realization that her mother would never again come home with her. Here she was again, keeping vigil by the hospital bed of someone she loved. But this time it had been because of her that he had nearly died. Marla Banks had wanted Emma gone, had wanted her property, and had wanted Brad. Brad’s need to protect her had made him a target.

  Emma gazed at his unmoving face. Beneath the shadow of his beard she thought he had more color. The hospital gown looked bulky around his left shoulder, the stark white bandages contrasting with the tanned skin where they had been wrapped up to his neck. He was always so vibrant, so alive; his stillness seemed unnatural. She picked up his right hand in both of hers, stroked his knuckles, and wished she could will some of her energy into him. Anything would be better than this feeling of absolute uselessness. When the fingers in her hand tightened briefly, her gaze flew to his face. Dark-fringed eyes were open and, though she could see the effort it cost him, steady on hers.

  “Hi,” she whispered softly. She brushed back the hair from his forehead.

  He tried to speak, but ended up coughing.

  She reached for the cup of melting ice chips. “Here. The nurse said you could have small sips when you woke.”

  She put the straw between his lips and he drank. His gaze traveled over her until it caught on the bandage at her elbow. “What happened? Are you hurt?” he rasped.

  Emma shook her head. “The nurses corralled a bunch of us to donate blood.” She felt so inadequate and she’d needed to do something, anything, to help. “Everybody has been here. Cops, county sheriff’s deputies, and firefighters. They all came. Your mom and sisters left a little while ago to get some dinner. They’ll be back soon. Your brother has called twice.”

  Trish had tried to get Emma to join them, but she’d declined. She wanted to stay with Brad, and wouldn’t be able to eat a thing with her stomach knotted in worry.

  He nodded and closed his eyes. She assumed he’d gone back to sleep until he raised his lids again. “What’s the damage?”

  She gave him a small smile. “They said you were lucky. They got the bullet out and it didn’t hit anything major. There is some tissue damage though.” Her smile faltered, and she swallowed hard against threatening tears. “They’ve got you on pain meds—you’ll need them for the next week.”

  He closed his eyes and nodded. His lips moved and Emma bent down to hear him whisper, “You need to pay up on those million kisses.”

  Emma squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips to his forehead. When she stood straight again, his breathing had deepened and he was asleep.

  ***

  Brad fought to push away the gauzy threads that wanted to pull him back into the void of drugged sleep. A soft hand pressed against his brow and knew it wasn’t Emmaline. He forced his eyes open to find his mother leaning over him. She smiled when she saw he was awake, but worry clouded her expression.

  “Hey there, handsome. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been shot.”

  With that, Trish Gallagher’s eyes flooded. Maddy appeared at their mom’s side and slid an arm around Trish’s waist.

  Brad struggled to think past the pain. “Mom, I’m sorry. I feel fine. Bad joke.” Trish shook her head. “No, it’s not that. Now I know you’ll be okay. Really, I held it together all evening and now I’m crying.”

  Brad tried to shift to sit up higher in the bed but it brought a stab of pain, so he decided lying still was a better idea. He glanced around the room. “Where’s Emma? What time is it?”

  “It’s nine in the evening,” Maddy told him. “Emma stepped out to use the bathroom and get a bowl of soup from the cafeteria. She should be back soon. Jenny left a few minutes ago. She needed to get home to nurse Brandon.”

  Trish dabbed her eyes with a tissue and said, “Logan was here earlier. He said he’ll come in tomorrow with a deck of cards to win back the shirt he lost to you in poker.”

  The energy it took to stay awake was fading but Brad struggled to remain conscious. He wanted to see Emmaline, he needed to see her, but he could feel his mind fading and couldn’t prevent himself from slipping under.

  The next time he opened his eyes his mother and sister were gone. The room was darkened and Emma sat curled in the chair close beside his bed, a small pillow under her head, and a hospital blanket pulled up to her chin as she slept. The pain in his shoulder let him know the meds were wearing off, but his mind felt clearer.

  He lay with his gaze on Emma, knowing the confrontation with Marla could have had a much more tragic ending. But he had survived and Emma was unhurt.

  Now he needed to get out of the hospital and back on his feet.

  Brad let his mind drift. The dull fire in his shoulder was uncomfortable, but he didn’t want more drugs that would make him groggy.

  Marla and Van Horn would both face prosecution. Marla was the ringleader and he would delve deeper to see if others were connected to the shady business. The development company could bear some scrutiny as well; he’d see if they had done or encouraged any of the illegal activities. His department would handle anything that came up, but he didn’t want to be out of the loop. And once the immediate concerns were settled, he and Emmaline would talk. The last few days had been chaotic but he couldn’t believe she might still think they didn’t belong together. She had to see how right they were. They had shared an amazing night, a night that had only confirmed for him that he and Emma were meant to spend the rest of their lives together.

  She made a soft sound and shifted in the chair, and he saw her eyes flutter open. She lay quietly watching him. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Not long. You stayed with me.”

  She nodded, eyes shadowed in the dim light. “Yes.”

  He reached out a hand and Brad saw her hesitate, then reach for his. “Are you okay?” he asked. When she didn’t answer he rubbed a thumb across her knuckles, searching her face. “Emmaline.”

  “You almost died.”

  Her bleak expression worried him. “But I didn’t. Marla is in jail, and so is Van Horn. Except for a few loose ends, it’s over.”

  “Yeah. It’s over.” Her fingers tightened around his, then released them. She adjusted her pillow and closed her eyes. Brad lay on his side to watch her for several long moments, wondering what was going on in her head.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hours later, he woke to find the hospital room bright with early morning light and the chair where Emma had slept empty, the blanket folded neatly in her place. When he recalled how subdued she’d been the night before, he felt an urgent need to see her. The sense that something was wrong had him picking up the phone to make a call. Once he disconnected, he sat up to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Getting ready to bust out of this joint?”

  Logan leaned against the doorframe.

  “Got that right.” He pointed to a cabinet. “Be a pal and get me my clothes from in there.”

  Logan complied, then pushed aside the blanket to sit in the chair as Brad reached for his jeans. “Doc clear you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Right, so you’re checking yourself out. What’s your hurry?”

  Brad pulled off the hospital gown and picked up his shirt. “I need to talk with Emmaline. Something’s going on with her.”

  Logan studied his face, then nodded. “I get that.” He drummed his fingers on his knees restlessly.

  Brad eyed his friend, who rarely gave in to wasted motion. “What’s going on with you? You ready to make a bust?”

  Logan shook his head. “No. I need to leave town, but I’ll be back. The guys we’re looking at are into more than drug smuggling. I’ve got intel that they’re bringing in girls from south of the border.”

  “Human trafficking.”

  “Yeah, human trafficking.” He paused. “But like I said, I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. A month at the most. Have your
guys keep an eye out, but we’re putting it all together for a big takedown. I don’t have all the evidence I need yet.”

  “Got it.” Brad rose to his feet, glad to be fairly steady.

  “Need a lift?”

  “No, I called Maddy. She’s on her way.”

  Logan gave a short laugh. “Blondie’s okay with you checking yourself out of here? That doesn’t sound like her.”

  “Yeah, she’s not too excited about it. But I told her it was either her or you. Sorry, man, but she doesn’t trust you.”

  Logan looked out the window. “Yeah, I know. But she’s going to have to adjust her thinking because when I’m done with this investigation, she and I are going to have it out.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks, I’ll need it.”

  ***

  Emma sat on her porch, staring through the trees at the rippling surface of the lake. The past month had changed her life in ways she never would have imagined. When she’d first met Brad all she’d seen was the cop. While that was an integral part of who he was, now she could acknowledge to herself that when she looked at him, she saw the only man she would ever love. And he’d nearly lost his life because of her. Marla Banks had seen Emma as a threat, both personal and professional, and Brad, forever the white knight, had rushed into danger to protect Emma. His family, even the town, would be devastated if he died, and that had nearly happened. Intellectually she knew Marla was responsible for her own behavior, but Emma couldn’t help feeling he’d been nearly killed because of her. She wondered how often his need to protect had him stepping into danger.

  That instant when she’d first seen blood spreading down his shirt flashed across her mind. Oh God. She pushed to her feet and ran down the porch steps. She needed a distraction. She would go see the damage from the fire. The insurance settlement for the garage had only come recently and now she would have to start the entire process over again. The path to the boathouse led her to the sodden ruins. Kayaks had melted and fiberglass canoes burned; life jackets were a charred mess. The pungent odor of smoke stung her nostrils. She tried not to let her spirits dip further. This latest fiasco might push back her opening date by a couple of weeks, but she would still open for the summer season.