Targeted Risk (R.I.S.C. #7) - Anna Blakely Page 0,14

those nights he’d spent dreaming about her and wondering where she’d ended up, and she’d been three fucking hours away.

So he’d driven here, to the address Derek had given him. And then, like a coward, he’d sat in his car and waited.

For hours, he contemplated whether or not he should even walk up the townhome’s steps. He went back and forth between what he should say and how he should say it. Played scenario after scenario of what she’d say and how she might react to seeing him again.

Before Mike knew it, the sky was turning dark, and he’d wasted the entire day sitting outside her house trying to get up the nerve to go talk to her. So he’d sucked it up and gotten out of his car. He’d barely made it across the street when he heard the first gunshot.

If he’d waited any longer...if he’d been ten seconds later...

“Get him...off of...me.”

Her voice brought him back to the present.

“Juliet?”

When he got to her, she was struggling to push herself free. Filling his fists with the back of the asshole’s shirt, Mike lifted the man’s dead weight—literally— off of her and tossed him to the side.

With blood splattered and smeared all down her front, Juliet looked up at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

“Are you hurt?” he blurted as he held his hand out for her to take. “Did he hurt you?”

Rather than accept the help he was offering, Juliet slowly began to push herself to her feet. The wariness in her eyes seemed to seep down through the rest of her body.

“Baby, you’re scaring me. Say something. Please.”

“J-Jay?”

Shit. When he’d first gotten here, he had full intentions of telling her the truth. All of it. But seeing as how she’d been seconds away from being murdered in cold blood, Mike didn’t think now was the time to drop that particular bomb.

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

One second, she was staring back at him as if he were a stranger. The next, she was flying into his arms.

“Oh, my God!” She squeezed him tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

He couldn’t believe he was, either.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, now. You’re okay.”

They stood like that for a full minute, holding onto one another as if neither ever wanted to let go. God, it felt good to have her in his arms again, even if it was under such fucked up circumstances.

“He was g-going to k-kill me.” Her entire body shook against his.

“I know, baby. But he didn’t.”

Because I killed the motherfucker before he had the chance.

Still trembling, Juliet pulled away just enough to look up at him. “Wh-what are you...why are you—”

“Houston PD!” someone shouted from behind him. “Slowly step away from each other and put your hands in the air!”

Juliet’s eyes shot up to his.

Mike let out a low curse. “Do as they say, honey.”

“What?” She stepped out of his reach and around him in order to speak to the cop. “Wait, I’m the one who—”

“Get your hands in the air!”

Jumping at the man’s fierce order, Juliet threw her hands high in the air. “M-my name is Juliet Farrow,” she told the officer quickly. “This is my home. I called you because that man”—she pointed to the asshole bleeding all over her veranda—"broke in here and tried to kill me.”

“You, in the leather jacket. Turn around slowly. And don’t make any sudden moves.”

Well, this is going to be fun.

Since getting shot wasn’t on his list of things to do today, Mike followed the man’s orders. Before him stood two uniformed officers, both pointing their guns in Mike and Juliet’s direction.

“Officers, I understand why you drew your weapons, but I’m not the bad guy here. That would be him.” Mike motioned to the dead guy lying a few feet away. “You know, the one wearing the ski mask and gloves.”

“It’s true.” Juliet jumped to his defense. Pointing toward the intruder, she said, “H-he broke in here. He’s the one who tried to kill me. I-I shot him in self-defense, but he was still alive. If Jay hadn’t showed up when he did...”

“I take it you’re Jay?” The officer in charge looked at him expectantly.

Damn it. “That’s me.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Dorrell”—he spoke to the other officer—“pat them both down, and then take Miss...”

“Farrow,” Mike and Juliet offered in unison.

“Right. Then take Miss Farrow into the other room and get her statement.”

“Separate them.” Officer Dorrell nodded. “Good idea.”

A very, very good idea.

He didn’t need Juliet overhearing that particular conversation. It