Explosive Attraction - By Lena Diaz Page 0,10
air, shaking it, making the tiny chain dance in the sunlight. “I’ve got it,” she cried. “I’ve got the key.”
He crouched in front of her, pressing the barrel of the gun against her belly. The sirens had stopped now, as if the police had reached their destination. The gunman’s eyes took on a feral look. His expression filled with pure hate, and something far more dangerous.
Desperation.
“Unlock the cuffs or I will shoot you.”
She reached out, grabbing one of the cuffs with one hand, holding the key in the other. Her hands were shaking so hard she almost dropped the key. She bit her lip, concentrating on holding her hands steady. He would shoot her once the cuffs were off. She was sure of it. And then he’d shoot Rafe, lying helpless in the mud.
Stall him. She had to do something to get him to turn the gun away from her. She fumbled with the key, this time on purpose. “I can’t...get it. You’re too close. I can’t get leverage.”
A shout sounded from the woods, but Darby couldn’t make out the words.
The gunman jerked the gun to the side, moving back a foot to give her room.
Darby weighed her options. How close were the police? If she waited, would they make it in time to save Rafe? To save her?
As if reading her mind, the gunman turned his gun toward Rafe again.
“Here!” She shoved the key in the lock, wiggling it until she heard a loud click. She unlocked the second cuff and it popped open. The gunman twisted the cuffs off his wrists and dropped them to the ground.
“Detective Morgan?” a voice called out from the woods nearby.
“Dr. Steele? Are you out here?” Another voice, followed by the sound of branches snapping and leaves rustling.
“Time to die.” The gunman pointed the gun back toward Darby.
Oh, God. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and waited.
A shot rang out, an explosion of sound that made Darby whimper and cover her ears. She waited for the pain, but it never came. The sound of grunts and cursing had her opening her eyes.
Rafe was on top of the gunman. The two men were locked in a struggle for the gun.
Darby scrambled back out of the way and yelled for the police. “Over here! Help us!”
Two officers crashed through the trees toward them.
The gunman twisted violently, smashing the gun into Rafe’s jaw. Rafe cursed and fell to the side. With the pistol in hand, the gunman lunged to his feet, snatched up the rifle and took off running toward the marsh.
Rafe tried to get up, but fell back down, holding his head.
Darby scrambled to him just as the policemen reached them.
“Are you Dr. Steele?” one of them asked. The other officer ran after the gunman.
“Yes. Please help us! Detective Morgan needs an ambulance.”
Rafe shook her off and staggered to his feet. “She’s the one who needs the ambulance. Give me your gun.”
“Detective, I’m not sure that’s a good—”
“Your gun. Now.”
The officer handed him his gun. Rafe took off in an unsteady line through the trees.
“What are you doing?” Darby cried out. She glared at the policeman above her. “Go on. Help him!”
“Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not leaving you alone out here. I’ll wait for backup.”
No amount of arguing would make the policeman leave her and go help Rafe. Darby stared in frustration at the gap in the trees where Rafe had disappeared.
A few minutes later the marsh was crawling with cops. One of them insisted on carrying Darby to the waiting ambulance. She’d wanted to wait for Rafe to come back, but the policeman wouldn’t listen. She felt silly being carried, especially since the officer should be out helping Rafe instead of worrying about her.
Where was Rafe? Was he okay? No one seemed to know the answer to that question, and soon she was in the back of the ambulance being rushed to Flagler Hospital a short distance away.
In spite of all the blood, her injuries weren’t life threatening. While the emergency room doctor stitched up her knee, a police officer took her statement and her description of the suspect.
“Have you heard anything about Detective Morgan?” she asked. “Is he okay? Did he catch the gunman?”
“I don’t know anything about that, Dr. Steele,” the officer replied.
She dug her fingers into the crinkly paper covering the examining room table.
“Worried about me, huh?”
Rafe! He stood in the doorway between two uniformed officers. He was shirtless and smeared with mud. Darby’s relief turned to concern when she saw