Page 17 of Destroyed With You

That got through to the man. Bartlett’s eyes widened, then cut sideways as if he was trying to look to the bathroom.

“Quiet,” Winston repeated as he loosened his hand over the other man’s mouth. “I’m here to help. I’ll take care of the woman. Then I’ll get you and the laptop somewhere safe.”

“Safe?”

“Where you’ll be protected until you can testify. I’m working with the SOC. Seagrave sent me.”

The man visibly paled. “Oh, God.”

“I know. We need to get you where Hawthorne and his people can’t find you. Just do as I say and I’ll make sure this goes smoothly.”

Bartlett nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

Cautiously, Winston loosened his hand. At the same time, he heard the click of the bathroom door. Winston pushed Bartlett all the way into the closet, then shoved past him into the room as he drew his weapon.

“There wasn’t a robe,” Linda called as an electronic beep sounded from inside the closet. There was a teasing lilt to her voice as she added, “So I just borrowed a towel.”

Winston silently cursed Bartlett for getting into the safe before he had Linda contained, but he couldn’t deal with the man right then. Not now that Linda had come into sight.

He saw her mouth open in shock, then felt the hard bash of metal crashing against the back of his skull. He fell forward as the hotel iron dropped to the carpet next to him. He rolled to his side, swinging his arm wide so as to knock Bartlett’s legs out from under him even while Winston brought the gun around to lock onto Linda.

She froze, her mouth open, her eyes as wide as if she’d just seen a ghost.

At the same time, Bartlett’s laptop went flying, landing hard on the thick carpet as Bartlett managed to keep his balance. Winston cursed, but kept the gun on Linda.

“Why the fuck did you bean me?” he snapped at the accountant. “I’m here to help you.”

He expected Bartlett to snatch up the laptop, then go cower in a corner. Instead, the accountant bolted for the door, terror coming off him like waves.

What the hell?

Winston clambered to his feet and followed, keeping the gun trained on Linda even as he paused in the doorway, weighing his options as Bartlett plowed through the stairwell door. They were only on the third floor, which meant he’d be at the lobby before Winston could call down for security to apprehend him. If he followed, Linda would bolt.

Plus, the laptop was still in the room. Two birds in the hand and one on the fly.

Not perfect—not by a long shot—but he was staying. And it had taken him maybe half a second to run through his various options.

Now decided, he shut the door and held the gun steady, aimed directly at her heart.

“Winston.” Her voice was steady. Flat. Without a hint of remorse. Hell, without a hint of anything. “Would it be cliché if I said that this is quite the surprise?”

He shook his head slowly, wishing he could unhear her flat, cold words. “You think I won’t pull the trigger? You think I wouldn’t gladly destroy you? You ruined my life, damn you. You killed the woman I loved.”

One brow rose, and she released her hold on the towel. It fell to her feet, leaving her naked in front of him, and just as beautiful as he remembered. “Maybe I did,” she said, taking a single step forward. “And if it’s payback you want, now’s the time.”

Chapter Six

Almost six years before…

The single towel is barely enough to cover me, but I hold the edges together with one hand between my breasts as I meet his eyes. Not two seconds ago I’d stepped out of my bathroom, still damp from the shower, because I’d left my new deodorant and toothbrush in the grocery bag on the coffee table. What I found instead was Sheriff Winston Starr.

I keep my chin up, determined not to be flustered even though my heart is beating like a butterfly’s wings, and not just because he’s so damn good-looking with that muscular body, rugged face, and kind eyes that crinkle when he smiles.

No, the bigger reason for my nerves is that I have secrets. And if this small town sheriff has found them out … well, my bosses aren’t going to like that.

I clear my throat, realizing that neither one of us has spoken. “Do you want to tell me what you’re doing in my apartment?”

He takes off his hat as he glances down at the floor. When he lifts his head, the apology is right there in his eyes. “Linda, I’m sorry.” He gestures behind him. “I knocked. The door swung open.”