“On your stomach and you might not get shot again.” He must realize I’m not joking. I see the moment it dawns on him what’s happened, what he’s done, the resignation hitting him.
Once he moves onto his stomach on the hardwood floor, grumbling and moaning about his damn arm that’s a fucking papercut compared to what it could’ve been, I slide the safety back on my weapon and holster it before reaching into my other pocket for what I often keep handy.
As I zip tie his wrists together—none too gently, I might add, because he sure as shit doesn’t deserve any mercy from me. I don’t want—can’t bear to—imagine whatever the hell he’d planned on doing to Noelle with that gun.
“You’re a fucking dick!” Brad complains loudly as I plant a heavy foot in the middle of his back.
“Since you’re the asshole who’s calling me that, I’m cool with it.”
“Fos?” Noelle’s voice is tentative. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. Just tying up the trash.” Huh. That was actually pretty witty if I do say so myself.
“They said the deputies should be here soon so—”
The sound of heavy footfalls makes my head jerk up and I see two of Ty’s coworkers with their guns drawn standing just outside the now battered rear sliding glass door of the house where Brad broke in, making his entry.
“Gentlemen,” I speak calmly, slowly raising my hands, keeping my fingers spread to show that I don’t have weapons in my hands. “I have a concealed carry permit and my identification is in my wallet. My gun has the safety on in the holster at my side.”
“Foster Kavanaugh.” One of the deputies steps forward, closer, and I recognize him. Dave and I used to run cross country in high school. I recall him being a good guy—a little on the quiet side—who moved away for college and then a job. I hadn’t realized he was back in town. “You still up to no good these days, man?”
With a smirk, I toss back, “Always. Can’t let you guys spend all your time eating donuts and drinking coffee. Just wouldn’t be right.”
“Hilarious as ever.” He shakes his head with a tight smile, surveying the damage Brad’s stray bullet did to the wall and blood seeping from the man’s arm. His eyes turn serious, scanning me for injuries and finding none, thanks to Brad being a crap shot. Reaching for me, he watches me. “I’m going to have to take this for now.” He takes my gun with care.
“Ms. Davis?” I hear a man greet from the front door. “Deputy Michaels. Are you safe?” I’m grateful they sent a few guys over here as, hopefully that will mean we can expedite everything pertaining to the necessary reports they have to complete.
“Want to tell us what went down tonight?” Dave glances around. “And where’s the young woman who made the call?”
“Right here with me.” Noelle tentatively steps out from the hallway with Deputy Michaels by her side, carefully making her way to us.
“Wait.” My tone stops her. “There’s shards of dry wall all over the place and you’re barefoot.”
She appears distressed, her lips parting to speak and then clamping together, her eyes darting to the two men nearby me before landing on Deputy Michaels. “May I … go to him? Please?” The last word sounds strangled, like she’s barely holding it together.
Deputy Michaels exchanges a look with the others and apparently they conclude that it’s safe and not a threat to have us together. As soon as he gives the okay, she rushes to me on her tiptoes, trying to sidestep pieces of dry wall before practically throwing herself into my arms.
It’s only then I realize I haven’t breathed easy since this entire altercation began. There’s only one reason I feel relief right now.
And that reason is right here in my arms.
Chapter Forty-Two
Noelle
The trembling doesn’t stop, and I’m pretty sure there’s a chance I’ve punctured one—or both—of Foster’s lungs with how tight I’m holding on to him. Or grasping at him—that might be more accurate at this point. Then he wraps his arms around me more securely and presses his lips to my hair.
“You’re safe now.”
His reassurance makes my trembling ease a fraction. Dropping a quick kiss to my temple, he runs a soothing hand up and down my back.
“I’m so sorry, Foster,” I murmur into his shirt, my face pressed against his chest.
“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Running his palm over my hair, he leans away slightly, waiting for me to meet his gaze. “I’m glad I was here for you.”
“Me, too,” I whisper. The moment he dips his head and tenderly kisses my forehead, my eyes fall closed.
Hearing noise from near the front door, we turn and see the paramedics have arrived.
“We’re going to need information and …” I zone out the moment the deputies begin talking about everything. I’m pretty sure I’m going into shock of some sort, feeling dazed. Suddenly, my vision begins to get hazy, and I feel off-balance.
“Noelle?” Foster’s calling my name, but it sounds so far away, like he’s in a tunnel.
Then everything goes black.
*