Santos struggled weakly, already succumbing to his injuries. Seconds later, Santos went unconscious. He dropped the criminal to the floor and limped toward the French doors.
“Hayley?” The balcony was empty. He leaned over the railing. “Hayley!”
The storm’s frenzy was gone. The rain fell softly now, and the velvet black of the sky peeked through the gray clouds. He looked everywhere, around the balcony, above him, at all angles of the roof, and finally, at the sandy ground three stories below. Tears pricked his eyes. “Hayley!”
“Logan.” His name was a mere whisper and came from the right. He leaned as far as he could over the railing and saw her hands grasping the rain gutter that ran under the balcony. “Hang on, baby! Just hang on!”
“I’m already doing that. Any other swell advice?”
He choked on the laughter. She sounded scared but strong. Yes, she was strong, his Hayley. He clambered over the railing, his feet sliding on the tiles. “Shit!”
“Be careful!”
“Yes, dear.” He crouched low, slowly stretching onto his belly. He knew the stomach wound wasn’t deep, but the injury on his thigh was another story. He ignored the pain and inched toward the gutter, sweating and cursing, until his hands grabbed hers. “Thank God. Are you okay?”
“Almost.”
He slid his arms down on hers, offering his strength until his hands reached her armpits, and he pulled her up. She grabbed onto his arms and struggled upward until her knees hit the roof. She slowly turned and sat, watching as he rolled over and did the same. His pale color told her he’d lost a lot of blood. Still, he’d fought for her like a lion.
“I’m okay,” he told her, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s just a flesh wound.” He grimaced when she applied pressure to his wound. “Hurts like shit, though.”
His heart nearly beat out of his chest. He’d almost lost her. Relief made him giddy. He fisted his hands in her hair and kissed her until they were breathless.
Ben burst into the house and took the three flights of stairs two at a time. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat when he barreled through the broken door, gun drawn.
Santos lay on the floor. His blood spread out from underneath his body.
“Hayley!” He quickly cleared the room. No sign of anybody else.
“Ben?”
His sister’s voice came from the balcony. He rushed through the opened French doors.
“Over here.”
Ben looked over the railing. Relieved, he watched Logan and Hayley crawl across the roof toward the balcony. He helped Hayley over first, and then Logan.
“Dude,” he said. “You look like shit.”
His pale color told Ben he’d lost a lot of blood.
“You fought for me like a lion, babe,” said Hayley. “You better sit down.”
“It’s just a flesh wound.” Logan grimaced as he sat down and moaned when she applied pressure to his injury. “Hurts like shit, though.”
“Is this asshole dead?” asked a female voice. They looked into the room to see Claire, her shoulder freshly bandaged, standing over Santos. She toed him with the tip of her black boot. “Yeah. He’s dead.”
“Keep pressure on Logan’s injury. I’ll call for help.” Ben withdrew his smartphone relieved that he finally had a signal. He immediately dialed the Coast Guard and then his boss at the FBI. Shit. He was going to be on the phone for a while.
“Did you hear that?” Hayley asked Logan. She kissed his sweaty forehead. “Ben’s getting help.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
“You better not, Logan Hunter Greyson. I still haven’t seen you in a dress.”
He laughed then he sucked in a breath. “You’re right. I do have the legs for it.”
His brown eyes seemed to darken in color as his expression serious. “You scared me tonight, Hayley. You put yourself in danger. I thought I would lose you.”
“I thought I’d lose you, too.”
Claire knelt on the other side of Logan, a first aid kit in her hand. “Let me treat him. Hayley hold his hand. Keep him distracted.” Claire smiled. “He can be a big baby at times.”
“Don’t worry. I can distract him.” She kissed Logan “I love you.” She kissed him again. “I’ve never stopped.”
“Coast Guard is on the way. The storm seems to be easing up as well,” Ben said as he walked back to them. “How are you guys doing?”
“I’m perfect,” Logan said as Clare expertly bandaged his thigh.
Hayley smiled. “Me too.”
Epilogue
Two Years Later The Maria Santos Recovery Center Hayley’s Island
Hayley watched a very pregnant Betty, her new sister-in-law, carry a stack of thick white towels into the hallway. “Wait a minute, little mommy,” she said, grabbing the stack. “No way are you going up those stairs.”
“I’m pregnant, not useless,” grumped the woman. “And you should talk, little mommy.”
“I’m nine weeks, not nine months. Where’s Claire?”
“Talking to the woman who checked in last night.”
“And Ben?”