Page 15

Cover seemed like a good plan. No, a great plan. A garbage can partially blocked her view of the street. That can currently gave her some cover. Not good enough cover. Her arm throbbed. The pain became stronger, hotter.

“You stay with me, every step of the way, understand? I’m your shield.” If possible, his glare turned even fiercer. “You didn’t tell me that someone was actively trying to kill you.”

“Didn’t…” A quick inhale of desperately needed air. “Realize it.”

That was all she got to say. He yanked her up, kept his body curled around hers, and as absolute chaos reigned on the streets of New Orleans, he ran with her toward safety. They burst into the open doors of a nearby hotel as the doorman gaped at them.

“Call the cops!” Hunter ordered, voice cracking whip-hard. “She’s been shot!”

Blood dripped down her arm. It hit the gleaming marble of the luxury hotel’s lobby floor.

Hunter hauled her deeper into the hotel. “Who the hell is trying to kill you?”

She had no clue.

Missed. Dammit. How the hell had he missed?

She’d been in his scope. Maybe he’d looked at her face for too long. But he’d wanted to remember her. Shelby had always been special.

Then he’d taken aim. A shot straight to the heart. Not like he wanted to do a head shot. No sense ruining that pretty face in death. He’d pulled the trigger.

But missed.

Because she’d turned. Why? Why? One minute, she’d been staring toward the trolley. Waiting. Then…

Turned.

Even as blood had poured from her arm and he’d been swearing and repositioning and preparing for another shot, a big bastard in a white shirt and ragged jeans had appeared. He’d thrown his body at her. Covered her. Taken Shelby down behind a damn garbage can, and he hadn’t been able to see her.

People had started screaming and running and, in that madness, she’d run, too. Only the big bastard had shielded Shelby with his body as she’d fled inside the glass doors of a hotel.

I have to go. Need to get the hell out of here. The cops in this city moved fast. Fuck.

He grabbed his rifle and spun away from the rooftop. What a clusterfuck.

But…maybe she wouldn’t realize the shot had been specifically meant for her. This was New Orleans. Shootings happened all too often here. Just more violence.

She wouldn’t know it was him.

She wouldn’t know that, after all these years, he was going to finish the job.

She wouldn’t know…

“Did you forget to mention that someone was trying to kill you?” Rage pumped through Hunter’s blood. Rage, and, yep, what might just be some good, old-fashioned fear, too. He’d rushed out of his office, hurrying after Shelby because—because⁠—

Because I just couldn’t let her go yet.

Because he was obsessed. Because he’d wanted to talk to her a bit longer. Because—screw it. He’d gone after her. He’d called her name. She’d turned toward him.

And some freak had shot her. The instant Hunter had seen the blood pouring down her arm, he’d realized what had happened. Now she was in the swanky lobby of a hotel, he had a white cloth—one quickly turning red—pressed hard to her arm, and Hunter would quite enjoy killing someone.

His voice had been low and rasping when he asked his question, designed only for Shelby to hear, but she made no response. Jaw locking, teeth grinding together, he bit out, “Don’t you think that’s something important to tell your PI?”

She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was on the glass doors of the hotel. Staring beyond those doors at the street. The woman’s profile was really quite perfect.

Shit. Stop looking at her profile.

He held the cloth hard to her arm, applying pressure. One of the concierge members had come rushing up with the cloth. Probably because the man hadn’t wanted blood drops all over his marble-tiled lobby.