High-Caliber Holiday. Susan Sleeman

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СКАЧАТЬ Brady, by the way, in case you didn’t catch that,” he said, lightening his tone to help ease her anxiety. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of this.” He made sure his apology carried his sincere regret. Not only for the situation, but for her injury, as well.

      “Thank you. I’m just glad it all worked out okay. If I hadn’t tripped Craig at the end to send the gun flying, things might have been far different.” She sighed and started toward the sidewalk.

      So that’s what had happened and why she’d fallen to the ground. Not that it eased Brady’s conscience.

      “We see vulnerable and disillusioned people all the time at PEA,” she continued. “Puts us at risk for one of them going off on us, so we regularly train on active shooter scenarios.” She looked up at him. “Have you seen the ‘Run. Hide. Fight.’ video made by Homeland Security?”

      He nodded. “Our agency uses it in training all the time. Especially at schools and with people who come in contact with the public. We also suggest people watch it on YouTube.” He smiled at her. “Sounds like it worked for you, reminding you to take action. If you hadn’t...”

      She frowned, and he decided it was best to move on to something other than tonight’s incident.

      “Are you from this part of town?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “I’ve only lived in the city for a few months. I’m a suburban girl. West Linn.”

      He knew all about the pricey suburb. “City living must be very different for you, then.”

      “Exactly,” she said vehemently.

      He suspected there was a story there, but his job was to walk her home, not learn all he could about her.

      He picked up his pace, escorting her past looky-loos who lingered at the edge of the crime scene, probably still hoping for a shootout or other action they could film for social media. Morgan didn’t seem to notice them. Brady supposed she was lost in her thoughts, likely replaying the night. Darcie had been right. Not that Brady would ever tell her that. Morgan needed someone to make sure she was okay. Whether he liked it or not, he was tasked with that duty.

      “This is me.” She stopped outside a historic redbrick apartment building and dug out her keys. She returned his jacket, then held out her hand. “Thanks for walking me home, Brady. It wasn’t necessary, but I really do appreciate it.”

      He considered shaking her hand and taking off, but he’d be in a heap of trouble if he ignored Darcie’s command to make sure Morgan got into her apartment all right. “I’ll see you inside before I go.”

      She crossed her arms and eyed him, but he wouldn’t let that deter him. He’d rather face her wrath than Darcie’s. He started up the steps before Morgan could argue, then stood to the side while she unlocked the street entrance. They stepped inside, and as he stomped his feet to clear the snow, he admired the small but ornate lobby. A tall Christmas tree sat in the corner covered with white twinkling lights and white balls. Simple and elegant, like the costly apartment building.

      Christmas, ha! The last thing he wanted to think about. Early December was way too soon to start. He’d actually prefer never to think about. Just brought back bad childhood memories. He’d only ever received one Christmas present the year his mother had managed to stay sober. Still, he couldn’t ignore the holiday the way he had before joining the FRS. Skyler had decorated their firehouse in November for her annual Christmas party for homeless families. She loved the season. He didn’t, but he wouldn’t go all Scrooge and ruin it for her or the others on the team.

      They boarded the old elevator car with wood paneling and brass furnishings.

      “How old is this building?” he asked when the silence in the small space turned uncomfortable.

      “It was built in 1910 and just recently restored.” Morgan’s eyes lit up, and he had to look away before he stared at the captivating sight she made. “I love that the renovations stayed true to the time period. I’d have hated it if they’d made the apartments sleek and modern like my parents’ home.”

      She’d just moved to the city from West Linn. Was it possible she’d lived with her family until she’d moved here? If so, it was totally in opposition to the independence she seemed to exude, piquing his curiosity even more.

      He leaned back against the wall, listening to the elevator’s ancient motor carry them to the top floor where the bell’s sharp ping cut through the quiet.

      “Penthouse,” he said jokingly.

      “Hardly.” She frowned.

      At her door, he reached for the keys. Their fingers touched and unexpected warmth spread through him. She hastily stepped back, nearly dropping the keys, but her eyes remained riveted to his. He could see she was interested in him.

      So he wasn’t the only one. Interesting.

      She took another step back from him.

      Even more interesting. She didn’t want to feel anything for him. Slumming it with a guy like him was probably the furthest thing from her mind. Or, for all he knew, she was involved with someone.

      She unlocked the door, pushed it open and he waited for her to enter. She turned to close the door on him.

      He took a step inside to fulfill his promise to Darcie. “Could I get a glass of water before I head out?”

      “Sure, of course.” She stiffened, belying her generous words. “I should have thought to offer you one.” She hung her coat on a hook and kicked off her shoes, visibly relaxing, and headed down a short hallway. She stopped to flick on a gas fireplace. “Have a seat, and I’ll get your water.”

      He stepped into the room, the heat from the fire already warming the small area. The space had hardwood floors, white bead board and chunky moldings reminiscent of the period. The walls were beige, the furniture traditional with red accents. A tiny artificial tree with equally tiny sparkling white stars sat on a small table in the corner.

      Perfection. Like from a magazine.

      Not a place where people like Brady actually kicked back and lived. Watched a ballgame and got snack crumbs all over the floor. After seeing Morgan’s designer clothing, he should have expected this. Just like Heather, his high school crush who had everything he didn’t. Big house. Fancy car. Nice clothes. All of it contrasted with his double-wide trailer and hand-me-down or thrift store clothes. Back then, he’d been fool enough to think Heather actually liked him, but she’d shut him down faster than a bullet from his rifle. So would Morgan if he was crazy enough to follow this attraction.

      Feeling like he could easily break the small sofa and chairs, he went to the window and stared onto the quiet street so in contrast with the shooting from earlier. His adrenaline had subsided and a headache was forming. He massaged his temples and tried to relax, but he felt jittery.

      If Morgan’s place wasn’t so unbelievably clean, he’d pull out his knife and the small hunk of wood that he always carried in his jacket pocket to whittle when he was left standing around.

      A scream pierced the air. Shattering glass followed.

       The kitchen. Morgan.

      Adrenaline СКАЧАТЬ