“Does that include croissant withdrawals?”
“Clara—”
“Yes. I’ll call you at the first sign of trouble.” She lifted to her toes. “I love you.”
“You have no idea.” He kissed her, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and holding her body tighter against his. He growled. “Deb can wait.”
She playfully whacked his chest. “She cannot wait. She’ll be late for work.”
“I don’t care.” He began lowering his head again, but Clara put a finger against his lips.
“I do. And so will Amber Ridge Hospital.”
She was right. Dammit. “Fine.”
Quickly, he threw on some clothes. When he reached his truck, he sent a quick text to Jesse.
Holden: Is Malcolm awake yet?
When Jesse didn’t respond, he headed toward Deb’s house. She lived about ten minutes away, a bit farther out than most of his clients. But it should take himlessthan ten minutes to fix her door.
When he reached Deb’s house, he grabbed his tools from the back and crossed to the door. Thank God he kept his tools in his truck and didn’t need to make a stop at his place first.
He knocked. When a few seconds passed and she didn’t answer, he tried again. Same thing.
Frowning, he tried her door. It wasn’t locked, but then, of course it wasn’t. That was the entire reason he was here.
He stepped into her hall. “Deb?”
Silence.
What the hell was going on?
He moved into her living area. “Deb? It’s Holden. Are you here?”
He turned toward her kitchen—only to stop at the sight of blood on the kitchen floor.
The fuck?
He sprinted into the kitchen and found Deb on the floor behind the island, a bullet wound in her chest.
Fuck.
He dropped beside her and touched her pulse. Faint but there. Quickly, he reached for the towel that hung from the oven and pressed it to the wound with one hand before pulling his cell from his pocket.
First, he called for an ambulance. Once they were on their way, he called Jesse, who picked up after a few rings.
“Holden—”
“Deborah Fuller’s been shot.”
“What?”
“She asked me to come fix the lock on her door, and I found her on the floor in the kitchen.”
“Shit. I’m on my way.” There was a small pause. “I was just going to call you…Malcolm had a setback last night.”
“What kind of setback?”
