The leads hit their mark, and a horrible clicking sound filled the air, followed by Scott’s guttural groans. He dropped the gun, went unnaturally wooden, and fell forward, crashing to the floor with a loud, sickening thud.
Everything moved so quickly after that.
Police arrived. I stood by and watched one of them put a knee in Scott’s back while he was cuffed and hauled to his feet. I stared at the stubby office carpet and tried to block out the fact he was crying.
I didn’t cry.
It wasn’t that I was incapable or that I didn’t have feelings. I had plenty. Perhaps too many, even. But crying never accomplished anything, and it was hard for me not to view it as a waste of my time. I didn’t like being sad, and I certainly didn’t like self-pity. I would much rather focus on solutions.
My first phone call after the ordeal was over was to my sister, Laurel. Thankfully, it wasn’t late in Munich when I phoned, but she freaked out to the point that I began to wonder who had just been threatened at gunpoint.
Given her history, plus her pregnancy hormones, I cut her all the slack.
The police took my statement together with Jim’s, and when the interview was over, he loosened his tie like it had been cutting off circulation.
“I never would have thought he’d be one to go like that,” he said. I could see he was still sweating through his dress shirt, and his grateful gaze found mine. “You’ve got a level head about you, Kara. Probably saved both of our lives.”
He gave me a look that said he owed me, and my reward was he refused to let me work the rest of the day.
I put up a fight, but he wouldn’t hear it. He meant well, but it was the last thing I wanted. Every second in New York where I wasn’t focused on work, I was bombarded with reminders of him, the ex-husband. Paul already knew what had happened in the conference room. He’d been evacuated with everyone else while the police had secured the building.
I zipped the pouch on my laptop bag when the phone intercom beeped in the spare office, lighting up the screen with the words “Front Desk.”
“Ms. Hayward?” the receptionist said. “I’ve got your brother here to see you.”
Brother?If I had one, that was news to me.
I popped my head out of the office and peered down the long hallway.
“Shit,” I groaned. I rarely swore at work, but there was no helping it, because Shawn Dunn stood at the front desk, leaning down to chat with the woman seated there. Or perhaps, flirt. That seemed all he was capable of doing.
I yanked myself back into the office and out of view before he noticed me.
What the hell was he doing here—not just in New York, but in my building? I didn’t want to deal with him, wasn’t prepared in the slightest. My heart skipped faster as I paced restlessly in the small, open area in front of my desk.
The irony wasn’t lost on me that I was more nervous to see Shawn than I’d been when a gun was thrust in my face.
God, pull yourself together.
I sucked in a deep breath. I would not fall apart at the sight of him, and I jammed my feet back into my killer heels. I was going to need every inch of them while dealing with Laurel’s annoying brother-in-law.
He’d been sending me almost daily text messages for the last few months, which I viewed as partially my fault. Sometimes,when I was home in Maastricht and safely seven hours away from him, I engaged. I allowed his shameless flirting because I was lonely and it felt good to be desired.
One time, I’d had too much to drink and stayed awake half the night responding to his texts.
But nothing could happen between us.
He was persistent on a level I wouldn’t have believed possible. An elaborate and excessive flower arrangement had arrived on my birthday six weeks ago, and he’d sent another one every week since. My co-workers thought it was the most romantic thing ever.
Hardly.
Shawn made it crystal clear what he wanted from me every time I was in Munich visiting my sister.
I marched down the hall, trying to exude confidence I didn’t have, and kept my gaze pinned to him.
He must have sensed my approach, for he straightened to his full, impressive height. Still taller than I was in my heels. When he set his warm gaze on me, I clenched my teeth and bit out a polite smile.
His brown hair was so dark it was almost black and slightly tousled like he’d run a hand through it recently. He had on a raincoat that glinted with raindrops and an umbrella tucked under one arm. It had been overcast when the office had been evacuated, but I hadn’t realized it had started to rain.
