Reflection Point - By Emily March Page 0,113

she sensed she was running out of time. She went into full striptease mode, shooting a hip, letting her thumbs play with the elastic, slowly … ever so slowly … pulling her panties down.

She suppressed the shudder of revulsion. She was a warrior woman, using the weapons at hand, and they were working. He was distracted. He wasn’t on guard. Why would he be? He’d known the old Savannah. The innocent, foolish, starry-eyed girl. He hadn’t known Zach Turner’s woman.

She slipped off the panties, but kept hold of them. She swung them around in a slow circle, once, twice. On the third time, she intended to throw them in his face and lunge at him. She’d knock him to the floor and rip the gun out of his hand and if she had to use it, then so be it. She was Savannah Sophia Moore and she could do this.

It might have worked, too, had everything not gone to hell.

Zach called for backup. He knew he might be overreacting, but he called for backup anyway. Gabi was on the north side of town. She would be only minutes behind him. Martin was in a department vehicle descending Sinner’s Prayer Pass. His other deputy was on the highway north of town. “I’ll get them there fast, Zach,” Ginger assured him.

Good. If this was a mistake, then he could call them off before they arrived.

Only he didn’t think this was a mistake. Every instinct in his body was screaming.

Savannah was in trouble.

He arrived at the house and shifted into hunter mode, breathing deeply to calm his breath even as he moved forward on silent feet.

He tested the lock on the kitchen door, and the knob turned easily. Crap. Savannah was one of the few people in Eternity Springs who kept her house locked even when she was inside.

Quietly he slipped inside. He listened hard. He heard something … water running? The bathtub?

She was taking a bath. He relaxed a little. Maybe she’d been thinking about make-up sex, too, and had simply forgotten to lock up.

Or maybe not. Something didn’t feel right. There was a tension in the house that wasn’t normal.

Aware of the sometimes squeaky hinges, he opened the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. That’s when he heard the voices.

The panties began their third rotation when the sound came from downstairs. TJ yelled, “Savannah? The credit card machine has quit working. Savannah?”

Kyle jerked his gaze away from her and turned toward the door. Time slowed to freeze-frames. Zach in the hall, his gun up. His eyes met hers. He can’t see Kyle’s gun.

“No!” she screamed, throwing herself at Kyle, at his gun, the gun pointed at Zach, just as his finger moved on the trigger.

The bullet ripped into her. Pain stabbed her. Savannah fell even as another shot exploded and gore and blood splattered against her skin. Kyle’s body toppled and Savannah knew he was dead, knew Zach had killed him. It’s over. It’s over.

“Peach!” He was there, kneeling over her, those gorgeous blue eyes of his fierce. Worried. “It’s okay. Help is on the way. It’ll be okay.”

He reached for her, and … then it wasn’t okay.

Freeze-frames again. His body jerks. His eyes widen.

Blood. Zach’s blood. Oh, dear God. He falls on top of her.

Over his shoulder, a wild-eyed devil stands holding a gun.

Not Celeste. Francine.

TWENTY-SIX

She awoke to the murmur of soft voices and the sight of an angel seated beside her bed. Not Francine. Celeste.

I’m either in heaven or a hospital. Where’s Zach? Then she remembered. Zach!

This could be hell.

Her mouth was dry and she tried to say his name, but it emerged as a croak. Celeste looked up from her magazine. A motorcycle magazine. “Savannah, you’re awake.”

Celeste reached for the white foam cup with a straw on the bedside table and put it up to Savannah’s mouth. She sipped and would have thought that the water felt and tasted wonderful had she not had but one thought in her mind. “Zach?”

“He’s alive. He’s in surgery.”

Alive. Thank you, God. Savannah drifted back to sleep.

The next time she awoke, Sage was sitting in the chair beside her bed, reading a novel. Savannah asked, “Zach?”

Sage smiled at her. “Hello, sleepyhead. Welcome back. Zach is in ICU, Savannah. It’s serious, but I will tell you that he survived surgery and we have every reason to hope.”

Savannah studied her friend’s face. Before she’d moved to Eternity Springs and become an artist, Sage had been a doctor. She

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