out and tumbled the nearest pile of crates to the ground, creating a domino effect that forced Tyler to jump out of the way before he continued the chase. There was the sound of a door slamming shut. When he got to it and swung it open he discovered it was raining outside. He checked each side of an arch of security lighting and took a step forwards...
The impact knocked him backwards a second before he heard the shot and felt a searing heat blaze through his shoulder. There was another shot in quick succession—he felt a second burn in his upper arm—and then there was a hail of gunfire and a body slumped onto the ground. As he staggered backwards Tyler knew he hadn’t fired his weapon. The ESU guys had done what he couldn’t.
Sickly warmth soaked his shirt as his back hit the wall beside the door and his knees gave out.
He stared at the body as his partner appeared and swore succinctly while prying the gun from his hand. ‘This is Detective Ramirez, we have an officer down—I repeat, officer down. I need a bus at—’
As he rhymed off the address—presumably over the phone—Tyler felt a sense of peace wash over him. When it came down to the wire he didn’t have it in him to murder a man in cold blood. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he’d thought. Maybe Miranda had pulled him back from the edge. He tried to focus past the pain while the warmth drained from his body. Getting shot hurt like a bitch. And he’d left Miranda handcuffed to her bed.
A rumble of laughter made him groan.
‘You want to share the joke?’ his partner asked as he took a look at the damage.
‘The one time I don’t wear a vest...’ he mumbled back.
‘Murphy’s Law...you’re Irish...work it out.’
Tyler swore when he added pressure to the wound on his shoulder. ‘Don’t think that’ll help,’ he gritted through clenched teeth as his vision blurred. ‘I think that one went through.’
‘Here’s hoping. If it’s gone through they won’t have to dig it out. What about your arm?’
‘That one they’ll have to dig out.’
‘Just as well you’re right-handed, isn’t it?’
Tyler frowned. A few feet back, to the side of the ESU’s tactical guys as they checked the body lying on the ground, a silent figure stood in the pouring rain. Her face wasn’t covered in blood any more and she was smiling at him. How could she be happy he’d failed her—wasn’t the whole point of haunting him to keep him focused on avenging her death? ‘I’m sorry.’ It was the first time he’d told her that. ‘I screwed up.’
‘You’ve got nothing to apologize for,’ his partner replied, obviously under the impression Tyler was talking to him. ‘Can happen to the best of us.’
When he blinked the raindrops off his lashes Candice was replaced by another woman with long dark hair and while she was smiling, too, she was also shaking her head. Why was he seeing Jo? She wasn’t dead. He blinked again, the movement taking more effort than it had before.
‘Stay with me,’ his partner’s voice said.
A woman with tumbling tresses of flame-red hair appeared in Jo’s place and even in the rain Tyler could see she was crying. His heart twisted. She should never have to cry because of him, even if part of it was alcohol related. He wanted to make her happy, hear her laugh every day and see the fire in her eyes when they argued. He didn’t have to keep his foot on the brake any more. The obstacles standing in their way weren’t insurmountable. If they were then he wouldn’t feel the way he did.
Not that he had any control over it.
‘Stay with me.’
She’d said that, too, and he’d never wanted anything more. If they’d been born in an earlier time he’d happily keep her barefoot and pregnant and protect what was his, keeping them safe from marauders. He’d have been good at that. All the touchy-feely modern-day stuff that said a guy was supposed to embrace his feminine side and emote, not so damn much. Tyler didn’t have a feminine side. Karl Jung could take his theories on human psychology and—
‘Ty, snap out of it.’ A hand smacked his cheek a few times. ‘You gotta stay awake.’
Damn, it was cold. He should have worn a jacket. Screw the jacket, he should have worn his damn vest and then he wouldn’t be ruining a perfectly good sweater.
‘Anyone