“And you do this stuff all thetime?” he asks.
We walk down the hall, now fullyclothed. As we approach the double doors that lead outside, I push them open,and we head outside, Darren and Debra tailing behind us. We head to the carMartin hired for the shoot. The cool California air feels about as chilly as itdid inside the warehouse. The sunlight shines brightly off a chain-link fenceon the other side of the road.
“You might have to deal with doingthis stuff more often,” I say, “now that everyone’s gonna get a view of thathot bod of yours.”
“Shut up.”
He seems more relaxed now thatwe’re out of the situation. And despite how irritated I’ve been with him thesepast few weeks, I have to admit that when we kissed on the shoot, I foundmyself being drawn to him once again.
The chemistry between us is as potentas it ever was.
Debra and Darren are both on callsbehind us. Debra’s working on a gig for another client while Darren books arestaurant for us to head to.
I nudge Bryce’s shoulder. “Comeon. I just want you to admit that you had a little bit of fun.”
“It was a little fun, but not somethingI need to ever relive.”
I smile, and he smiles back.
“Careful,” I say, “you don’t wantto find out you don’t hate me anymore.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.”
As we reach the street, we stop toallow a navy-blue car to pass. The window on the driver’s side is rolled down,and as it passes, I notice the two people in the car are wearing black ski masks.The driver sets a gloved hand on the windowsill. He’s holding a gun.
Time seems to stop as the horrifyingreality of the situation hits me like a brick.
The gun’s aimed at me, but Brycehurries between me and the bullet. I know what he’s thinking. That he’s goingto take it for me, but I can’t let him do that.
I didn’t think it would be thisfast. I thought I’d have some sort of fighting chance, but now that I’m facedwith this life-or-death situation, I realize just how limited my options havealways been. I wrap my arm around Bryce and step around him, turning my backfrom the car as I throw him to the ground.
I hear the gun fire behind me.
Bryce hooks his arm around me andforces me to the ground with him.
Two more rounds are fired.
Bryce retrieves a gun from theholster on his belt. As the car comes to a stop a few yards down the street, heleaps to his feet and aims his gun, firing a round, probably just to let thedouchebags know that if they try anything else, he’ll shoot to kill.
The car speeds up down the street.
I lie on my chest. Still. My bodyfeels numb, surely from shock.
Debra and Darren lay on the grounda few yards from me. Debra’s eyes are wide as she stares at the asphalt, herchest rising and falling rapidly. A thick red splotch covers the shoulder ofher light-blue blouse. It expands as Debra’s hand trembles against thesidewalk. Her phone lies on the ground beside her.
I start to my feet, pulling out myphone to call 911.
Bryce approaches and wraps hisarms around me. His eyes are wide as he looks to me, his expression filled withterror. He takes my phone from me, saying something that I can’t make sense of.
A sensation stirs in my shoulder,and I realize why he looks so concerned.
I’ve been shot, too.
I feel blood drain from my face asI look at him. My legs give out.
He catches me.
Thirty-One
