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When I look out the back door to the pool, I freeze. Starla is standing, turned away from me, and a woman is holding her at gunpoint.
“Starla!”
The gun fires, the bullet hits Starla in the chest. She falls back, hits her head, and tumbles into the water.
“Freeze!”
“I don’t know if she’s dead,” the woman shouts, aiming the gun at the seemingly lifeless Starla. “I’ve been trying to end you for years! Why won’t you just die?”
“Throw your gun down!”
The woman moves to squeeze the trigger again, but I fire first, hitting her in the head, killing her instantly.
Blood pools around Starla in the pool, and I instantly jump in and turn her over so her face is out of the water.
“Baby.” I pull her to the edge, trying to feel for a pulse. “Come on, baby, stay with me. Don’t you dare die on me, Starla. Come on.”
“Seattle Police!”
“Back here!” I yell. “The perp is down, and I need an ambulance for the vic!”
“Jesus,” Anderson breathes when he sees me in the water with Starla. “The ambulance is here. Who’s that?”
“This is Starla. She has a heartbeat, but she’s unconscious. I don’t know who the perp is.”
“On it.”
Cops swarm the area, and before I know it, the medics arrive to help me pull Starla out of the water and onto a gurney.
“Heartbeat is strong,” one of them says. “Gunshot wound to the upper left chest. Contusion on the back of the head.”
“I’m coming with you,” I announce as they wheel her toward the ambulance. I glance back at Anderson. “I’ll call to give my report.”
“This is Rachel Samuels,” he calls after me. “Ring a bell?”
I shake my head, then pause. “She’s Starla’s assistant. Fuck me.”
“Looks like we found our stalker.”“Who knew a gunshot wound would hurt so bad?” Starla asks. It’s three hours later, after the worst hours of my life as they took Starla in for tests and then stitched her up. She’s on a good amount of morphine right now.
“You shouldn’t be in so much pain now, sweetheart.” I kiss her cheek. “They’ve got you drugged up.”
“When it happened,” she clarifies. “It really hurt.”
“I’m surprised you remember it.”
“Yeah.” Tears fill her beautiful blue eyes. “It was Rachel.”
“I know.” I kiss her again. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t understand. Why? I was always good to her.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“Jealous.” Her words are a little slurred. “She was jealous. Mad. Crazy. Loved her.”
“I know you did.”
“Trusted her, you know?” She turns her blurry eyes up to me. “Hard to trust.”
“No one’s going to hurt you like that ever again. I promise.”
“Love you.” Her eyes close. She’s been fighting sleep, wanting to be alert to what’s going on around her. She needs the rest. She needs to heal.
The bullet went clear through and miraculously missed any major organs or arteries. It was the fall, and the hit on the back of the head, that knocked her unconscious. And if I hadn’t pulled her out of that pool, she would have drowned.
But she didn’t. She’s here, and she’s whole, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life keeping her safe.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call.
“Crawford.”
“It’s Parker. We found our stalker.”
I frown. “I know. I should have called you, man. She shot Starla today, and I killed her.”
“Oh my God. I’m sorry, man. I hadn’t heard. Sounds like Belinda Lanigan was off her rocker.”
“Wait. Her name was Rachel.”
“No, the person sending all of the emails to Starla is Belinda Lanigan. Her permanent address is in San Francisco, but I found a short-term lease here in Seattle.”
“Jesus.” I scrub my hand down my face. “Rachel wasn’t the stalker.”
“Not the email one, no. So, we have a name and an address. Give me the word, and I’ll get an arrest warrant.”
“Do it.”
“On it.”
He hangs up, and I can only watch Starla sleep, my brain going a million miles a minute. There were two threats. One we had no way of knowing was even in the picture.
I lost about ten years from my life today. The horror of watching the love of my life get shot and not knowing if she was dead or alive was a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
It gives me all-new empathy for Jeremy Lubbock and what he walked into.
“Hey.”
I look up to see my mom standing in the doorway.
“Mom.”
I stand and pull her in for a hug. I know it sounds childish, but having her here is a balm to my hurting heart.
“How is she?”
“She’s going to be fine. The bullet went straight through. She has a concussion, and she’ll be sore for a while, but she’ll be good as new before too long.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Mom wipes a tear from her eye and leans in to kiss Starla’s forehead. She’s sleeping peacefully, but Mom whispers to her. “We all love you, sweet girl.”
