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There was no second knock. A new crest of fear struck at the possibility that Tony had been annoyed and gone away. If so…she was dead.
Looking wild, Reistad rushed her again.
This time, she slammed her cast downward on the hand holding the knife, although she felt a sting across her belly. Using ugly words, he threw himself forward again as she dodged to the side.
They both heard an exclamation from the kitchen, then a roar of rage.
Reistad turned from her and ran for the front door. Beth didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the heavy statue and went after him.
* * *
TONY COULDN’T BELIEVE he’d almost fallen over Emily’s body, after his nearly silent entrance. God, he hoped she wasn’t dead.
Another enraged scream came from the front of the townhouse. Gun already in his hand, Tony ran forward, yelling, “Police!”
A black-clad figure and Beth seemed to be struggling by the front door. No—Beth was pounding him repeatedly with something. He was trying to get away, hunching against the blows.
As Tony snapped, “Freeze, you son of a bitch,” Beth bashed the guy in the head. He staggered, momentarily stunned, and Tony closed in. Seeing the knife in the scumbag’s hand, he wanted—like he’d never wanted before—to pull the trigger.
He shoved the barrel of his Glock to the creep’s neck. “Hands against the wall! Do it! Now!”
As he used his body to flatten Reistad, something whistled through the air and smacked his shoulder.
“Beth! I have him. Stop.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her back away, trembling. Some long, dark object dangled from her good hand. Blood soaked the front of her T-shirt.
Swearing, he twisted Reistad’s wrist until the knife fell, then slapped on plastic cuffs and shoved him to the floor. Knee in the middle of his back, Tony groped for his phone with his free hand. Reaching dispatch, he barked out orders. Ambulance. Backup.
Then he went to Beth. “Sweetheart. God. You’re bleeding.”
She let him pry the weapon from her hand—a statue of some kind, and damn, it weighed a lot more than it looked—and propel her to the sofa. She sank down with a muffled sob, then tried to spring right up.
“Emily!”
“Sit. You’re hurt.”
The eyes that met his were scarcely human. She’d gone to a desperate place he recognized. Her whole body shook. Blood now smeared the cast sling and her other hand, after she touched it to her stomach.
Keeping an eye on the man who lay unmoving, Tony lifted her shirt. Blood didn’t geyser out. With a sick feeling of relief, he tore his own shirt over his head and pressed it to the general area of her wound.
“You’re safe now,” he said. “You’re safe.”
She looked at him, but he didn’t know what she saw.
He went to the kitchen, determined that Emily was breathing, and returned to reassure Beth. Then he crouched next to her assailant, yanked down the hood, pulled the mask over the man’s head and stared at Keith Reistad.
“You are under arrest,” he began.
* * *
BETH STARED UP at the strips of fluorescent lighting on the ceiling of the emergency room cubicle. The local the doctor had injected before using a combination of sutures and butterfly bandages on her laceration seemed to be wearing off because she felt the burn again. The doctor had told her she was lucky because the cut wasn’t deep. Lucky? Right now her anxiety had ratcheted so high, she was this close to exploding out of the cubicle and running through the emergency department until she found Emily.
At the soft scuff of a footstep, she turned her head.
Tony came straight to her, his gaze raking over her. “You’re okay?”
He’d had to let the EMTs take her away earlier. Instead, he’d accompanied Reistad to the hospital, to be examined for a possible concussion. Vengefully, Beth wished she’d caved his head in. Why did Tony have to stop her?
When Tony got close enough, Beth grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Emily. Nobody will tell me anything!”
“She’s awake.” He gently closed his hand around hers. “I borrowed this shirt. Don’t ruin it.”
“Oh.” Flushing, she let go, but his hand stayed wrapped warmly around hers. “Where is she?”
