Khaki made it to her cruiser just as her magazine ran out. She didn’t bother reloading. Instead, she holstered her gun so she could slip her other hand under the woman, then heaved her into the front seat. It was a tight fit with the steering wheel, radio rack, and computer console, but Khaki didn’t have time to be gentle. She maneuvered the woman until she got her in the passenger seat, then climbed in herself.
She was just putting the car in gear when gunfire erupted from beside the Dumpster. The side and front windows of the cruiser shattered as a hail of bullets smashed into the glass. The car rocked as both tires on the driver’s side blew out and the engine died. Pain lanced through her left thigh, but she ignored it as she yanked out her Glock and quickly reloaded. Opening the door, she rolled out of the car onto the ground, and returned fire at the two men trying to kill her.
Time slowed. All Khaki remembered was thinking that the woman in her cruiser would be dead if the men got through her. She vaguely remembered changing out another magazine, and then everything went still.
The two men who’d been shooting at Khaki lay unmoving by the Dumpster. Khaki twisted around, checking every shadow for another shooter, but didn’t see anyone else. Heart pounding, she holstered her weapon and grabbed the door handle to pull herself up, intent on checking the woman in the car. So many shots had been fired, she was sure the woman had been hit.
As she crawled to her feet, Khaki realized she was the one who’d been hit. In the thigh and maybe her shoulder again—it was hard to tell. She’d thought getting shot would hurt a lot worse, but she barely felt it. Did that mean she’d been hit bad and was going into shock?
Khaki found the woman curled up tightly against the passenger door, staring at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. Miraculously, the woman hadn’t been shot at all.
Khaki eased herself into the driver’s seat and reached over to grab one of the woman’s hands in hers. Pain shot up her arm. She’d been hit in the right shoulder for sure. But she didn’t let that stop her from squeezing the woman’s hand.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said.
The woman slowly nodded, then started crying. Khaki pulled the woman against her injured shoulder, keeping an eye out as the sounds of sirens approached from a distance.Abouttime.
As the sirens got louder, Khaki wondered again why she wasn’t in more pain. And why the hell had it taken backup so long to get here?
Chapter 1
Three Months Later
Xander Riggs shifted in his chair, wondering why the hell his boss had asked him to come to this meeting. Gage Dixon knew Xander hated rubbing elbows with the brass down at police headquarters. Other than Deputy Chief Mason, everyone else at headquarters was a waste of space. It had been so long since some of them had carried a weapon, Xander wasn’t sure how they could still call themselves cops.
“What’s this meeting about anyway?” Xander asked the commander of the Dallas SWAT team. They’d been left stewing in this small conference room for fifteen minutes, and Xander couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Gage shrugged, which was his way of saying he didn’t know, but Xander didn’t buy it for a second. His boss never did anything without a plan.
Xander was tempted to pull out his phone and check his email while they waited, but he resisted the urge.
“I noticed Mac was moving a little slow yesterday at the compound,” Xander said instead. “Is her knee still bothering her?”
Gage’s jaw tightened. Even though Gage had killed Walter Hardy, the man who’d kidnapped and come close to killing his fiancée, reporter Mackenzie Stone, he still held himself responsible for the fact that she’d hurt herself while trying to get away from the bastard in the first place.
“Only when she goes running,” Gage muttered. “Every time she does, her knee swells up; then it’s sore as hell the next day. Her doctor told her to stay off it for a while and take a break from running, but Mackenzie refuses to listen.”
“That sounds like her—stubborn to a fault. Maybe you should hide her running shoes.”
Gage snorted. “Trust me, I thought about that. But then she’d go running in her bare feet and her knee would probably be even worse. I need a better plan.”
Xander lazily swiveled back and forth in the fancy leather chair. “Talk her into taking a week off with you and refuse to let her get out of bed. That should do the trick.”
“I thought about that too,” Gage said. “But I’m saving up vacation days for the honeymoon.”
Seriously?Xander couldn’t remember the last time his boss took leave. Not unless you counted the few days he’d taken off after they’d all almost gotten blown up in that meth lab, courtesy of Walter Hardy.
“Gage, you haven’t taken a vacation in what, five years? You have plenty of leave. Take a week off and spend it with Mac.”
If Xander was ever lucky enough to stumble over that one-in-a-billion woman who was perfect for him, he sure as hell wouldn’t think twice about taking off to be with her.
Gage opened his mouth—probably to say he was too busy—but then he grinned. “You know, that might actually work. She’s been after me to take some time off since we got engaged so we can go house hunting.”
“House hunting, huh?” Xander grinned. “What’s next, a minivan?”
“Now that you mention it, I have had my eye on one of those.”
Xander did a double take. “Seriously?”
