She nodded again, a bit of color returning to her face.
He pressed a firm kiss to her temple before moving to the other end of the counter.
The vase shattered, and Helen popped out from behind a doorway, taking aim near the broken porcelain.
Holden fired, hitting her gloved hand.
The woman screamed and dropped the gun.
Holden ran forward but just as he reached her, Helen grabbed the nearest pot with her uninjured hand and swung. He dodged the makeshift weapon and grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back and forcing her to the floor.
Helen bucked her hips, trying to dislodge him. “Get off me! I don’t deserve this! All I wanted was some fucking recognition.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but whatever it was, it didn’t justify having a hand in everything that had happened. “Any second now, this room will be swarming with the sheriff’s department. You’re not going anywhere.”
Right on cue, the door to the florist opened and Jesse burst in, closely followed by three of his deputies. He ran straight to Clara and wrapped her in his arms while the deputies took Helen.
The second Jesse released Clara, Holden pulled her against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not hurt.”
Didn’t answer his question. He inched back and studied her eyes, but her stare returned to Briar’s body on the floor.
He had a million questions. He wanted to know everything that had taken place after he’d left this morning. But now wasn’t the time. Right now, he needed to get Clara the hell out of this shop.
He slipped an arm around her waist. “Let’s go.”
She leaned into him and let him guide her out, and after almost losing her, the feel of her against him was everything.
Clara’s throattightened as she watched Helen get wheeled out of the shop on a stretcher. Jesse walked beside her. The wrist of her uninjured hand was cuffed to the gurney.
This entire time, she was involved. Not just involved—the instigator.
Clara barely felt the paramedic cleaning the wound on her head. She sat in the back of the ambulance after telling Jesse everything. And each word had felt more surreal than the last. Like she was talking about some movie she’d watched, not her life.
“I can’t believe it was her,” Clara whispered, still shocked. “She shot Briar. She tried to kill Malcolm…and she put all those ideas in Briar’s head.”
A deep shudder coursed down her spine.
Holden inched closer, curling an arm around her waist. “She hid her involvement well.”
“They both did,” she whispered. “And they both had such different motives. I never would have thought either of them could be involved. Well, Briar maybe. She always seemed to have a chip on her shoulder.”
“She was angry, and she let that anger dictate her actions.”
Clara shook her head. “So many people have been hurt or killed.”
“I know.”
“I never liked Scarlett, but she died trying to discover the truth to let people know. Even if her methods were a bit unethical. And how could they have hurt someone like Deb?Everyonelikes Deb.”
“People like them will do anything to protect themselves. They don’t care who gets hurt.”
She nodded absently, hating that it was true. That some people—the awful kind—had such a low moral compass that they didn’t care what happened to anyone else.
The paramedic stepped back. “Okay. All done. Try not to get it wet for twenty-four hours, and go into the hospital if you feel dizzy or if the wound looks like it’s getting infected. And get some rest.”
“She will,” Holden answered for her.
