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She closed her eyes, straining to hear. Would Mason be all right? She knew she shouldn’t worry, the man was scarily competent, but sometimes bad things happened.
As if to underline that point, a shot rang out. Jane bit down on a whimper. Randall ducked his head. Paige flinched slightly, then cocked her head, clearly listening to her comlink.
“Roger that,” she said finally, and grinned hard. “Mason got her. It’s all good.”
“Did he kill her?” Randall fired the question. “Is she dead?”
Jane’s legs gave out. She sank to the floor.
Weapon pointed straight at Randall’s chest, Paige closed in on him, hovering just out of reach. “If you have any other accomplices, you better tell me now.”
Randall shrank back, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “She’s not my accomplice. She’s crazy. She wanted me to… wanted us to….” He sent Jane a pleading look. “You can’t blame me for—”
Paige held up her free hand like a stop sign, cutting him off. “Say another word and I’ll shoot you.”
Randall snorted. “You’re not going to kill me.”
“Who said anything about killing?” She winked at Jane, then, eyes on Randall, she reached into her backpack, extracting a shocking yellow handgun. “I’ve been dying to try out this beauty. It packs three times the voltage of a Taser. I’m not convinced, though. Give me a reason to test it.”
Randall clenched his jaw until a muscle leapt beneath his uninjured cheek.
Jane shivered. How had she ever thought him handsome? Or harmless? The man before her looked mean and desperate, willing to do anything to save himself.
Even if that meant turning on his partner. Or killing two innocent men—and her—to get what he wanted.
And she’d been blind to his motives the entire time.
She closed her eyes, praying for relief from the chilling fear, and the grace to find forgiveness.
A fist pounded on the door, sending her heart rate skyrocketing.
“Jane? Are you okay?” Bridger’s deep voice penetrated the wood.
Jane leapt to her feet, almost tripping in her haste to reach the door.
The door slammed open. Bridger filled the doorframe, hands planted above his head, fingers digging into the wood. “Are you okay?” he repeated, eyes wide with concern.
Jane could only nod. She stepped back to allow him to enter. Except for the two small scratches on one cheek, he looked…great.
She backed into the living room, legs barely working. All this fear and stress must be cumulative. She couldn’t seem to get her brain in gear.
Weapon still trained on Randall, Paige grinned. “Way to make an entrance, boss.”
Bridger ignored her, his attention on Jane. He reached for her, pulling her into a hug. He was warm and strong. The only hint that he was anything but calm came from the rapid beat of his heart against her cheek.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, glorying in the hard feel of him. The safety.
He’d never be hers. Never fit into her calm, quiet world.
But for this moment, she could pretend.
37
An hour later,after the EMTs had bandaged Dressler’s cut and the two sheriff’s deputies had cuffed him and Vangie Myles, Bridger’s heart rate was just beginning to come down.
Two squad cars idled in front of Jane’s house next to the ambulance. Sheriff Hammond had just arrived on scene. He wasn’t happy that Bridger hadn’t called in immediately, but he seemed to understand Bridger’s reasoning. At the moment, he was outside getting details from Fenn and Tai and Kate—they had caught a ride back to Jane’s with the first deputy on scene at the church.
Paige was tucked into a corner of the couch, the only area in the front of the house that wasn’t covered in glass and blood. He and Mason wielded brooms while Jane vacuumed up the tiniest shards of glass. Once they had the kitchen and dining room cleared of debris, he’d mop up.
