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TEN
Gunshots.
Chase struggled against the icy slope and slid another few inches down the incline. Frigid water seeped through his jeans. The sleet had turned to a drizzle, but the damage was already done. The entire side of the hill was covered in ice. Faith’s warning scream had caused Chase to lose his footing. It’d also saved his life.
His foot lodged in a tree root, blessedly providing him traction. His right shoulder screamed in pain—dislocated?—and his hip ached. But he barely acknowledged the pain. The shooter, at the road’s edge, was aiming for Faith. Chase had to stop him.
He struggled to unholster his weapon, his fingers fumbling with the button holding the weapon securely in place. His dominant hand was utterly useless, putting him at a distinct disadvantage. The shooter was wearing black clothing and a ski mask. An engine fired up, and the vehicle Chase had collided with earlier sped off. Better. The last thing he needed was another civilian in the shooter’s sights. This criminal was intent on not leaving witnesses.
Another shot exploded, followed by the ping of metal as it collided with Chase’s truck. Terror for Faith lodged itself in Chase’s heart. He blocked it out. He was no good to her if his mind was muddled by emotion. He re-doubled his efforts to free his weapon. Using his right hand made him want to scream. Where was his backup? Why was it taking so long?
Please, God, I could use your help here.
Grass crunched as the man in black stepped off the asphalt and headed toward the damaged vehicle at the bottom of the incline. Toward Faith. Chase’s blood ran piping hot as his vision grew hazy with rage. There was no time to arm himself. “Police! Drop your weapon!”
The man whirled, gun raised. Bullets thudded into the tree. Chase expected the move—shouting at the criminal drew attention away from Faith—and rolled. Pain erupted through his entire chest as his hurt arm protested the movement. His gun flung free from the holster. It slid across an ice patch on the incline, landing a short distance away. Chase threw himself at it. He lifted the weapon awkwardly in his left hand, aimed, and fired.
The shot went wide. The gunman returned fire and Chase was forced to roll again. Dirt and ice water clung to his clothes. The pain from his arm was blinding. White-hot agony. Still, he clung to his weapon.
He skidded to a stop behind a large pine and used it as cover. Sucking in a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and pitched to an upright position. The gunman hadn’t moved any closer to the truck. Chase intended to keep it that way. He took aim and fired, but once again, the shot went wide.
The sound of wailing sirens echoed through the air. The police were closing in. The gunman must’ve heard them, too, because he bolted for his vehicle. A silver truck. Chase balanced against the tree and stood. He peered through the brush to glimpse the license plate, but it was no use. The truck’s engine roared as it peeled away.
There was no way to stop him. The approaching sirens were still too far away. Chase’s gaze shot to his own truck sitting at the bottom of the incline. His heart stuttered as the full realization of what’d transpired crashed down on him. The gunman had gotten off several rounds before Chase had intervened. Was Faith hit?
Had she been killed?
The thought sliced through the last shred of self-control he had. Abandoning any sense of reason, or the threat of sliding on more ice, Chase recklessly ran for his vehicle. “Faith!”
The passenger-side door flung open. Faith emerged. Her hair was bloody from the wound on her scalp. Mascara and tear tracks ran down her face. Her clothes were stained, wrinkled, and sparkling with broken glass.
Chase had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
Faith raced for him, her body colliding with his as she wrapped her arms around him. Pain from his arm ricocheted through his core, but he ignored it. Chase wrapped his good arm around her waist, hauling her against his body. Every inch of him was aware of her. He buried his face in her hair. The scent of her perfume, light and cinnamony, surrounded him. He released a shuddering breath.
She pulled back far enough to cup his face in between her chilled hands. Faith locked gazes with him, her gorgeous brown eyes filling with fresh tears. “I thought you were dead.”
Before he could say likewise, she pitched forward and kissed him.
The world stopped.
Chase had envisioned and daydreamed what it would be like to kiss Faith a thousand times. Nothing could prepare him for the real thing. Her lips were soft but carried passion unlike he’d ever experienced. His knees nearly buckled under the swell of emotion. Her fingers sank into the hair along the nape of his neck and Chase deepened the kiss, pulling Faith even closer. Her petite form fit in his arms as if they’d been made for each other. Kissing her…it was everything. He didn’t want it to end.
The wail of sirens cut through the haze of his passion. Faith pulled back, breathless. Their gazes locked and held. Something flickered in the depth of her eyes.
Regret.
Chase’s heart sank to his dirty boots as reality sent him crashing back to earth. Faith had initiated the kiss, and he was certain it meant something to her, but that didn’t change the circumstances. She was still in love with her late husband. Maybe she would always be.
A cold chill that had nothing to do with the drizzle or the pain from his arm rippled through his body. He was a fool heading straight into a heartbreak, and if Chase wasn’t careful, he was going to lose his best friend. Faith’s gaze skittered away from his and her cheeks flushed. Proof of her embarrassment. Chase released her just as a police car pulled up. He struggled to find something to say, anything to let her know things hadn’t changed between them, but the words wouldn’t come.
How could they? Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
