Page 75 of Annika's Aurora

“What are we waiting for?” The Nighthawks cheered at Logan’s answer.

Graham clapped Logan on the shoulder. “Right, let’s go. She’s at the duplex with Natalie and Maddie.”

Chapter 22

Grahampulledthetruckintothedrivewayjustasthewomenwerehugginggoodbyeontheporch.Climbingoutonthepassengerside,Loganmadehiswayaroundthefrontofthetruck,unabletotakehiseyesoffofAnnika.Shespottedhimandgiftedhimwithasmilethatmadehisheartskipabeat.Hisstepsfaltered,amazedatseeingnohesitancyinhersmile,andforthefirsttimeindays,hefeltlikehecouldfinallytakeadeepbreath.Unabletotakehiseyesoffthatsmile,hewatchedassherandownthestepsandthrewherselfintohisarms,buryingherfaceinhisneck.

“Hey, Sunfire,” he murmured into her hair.

“Hi.”

The orange scent in her hair surrounded him as he inhaled deeply. “I’m such an ass. I am so sorry.”

“I know. And I forgive you.”

“Fuck, I do not deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” she admonished as tears started to slide down her cheeks.

“Hey, no tears. We are done with that.”

“What if they are happy tears?”

“Those are acceptable, I guess, but I still hate seeing you cry.” She gifted him with another of her bright smiles, and his heart felt lighter.

He’d just cupped her cheeks to kiss her when something caught his eye on the right. A glint of metal, a movement of shadow. Acting purely on instinct, he quickly pushed Annika behind him, blocking her from the unseen threat. He heard a loud blast and felt a searing pain in his abdomen. Hearing Annika scream, his instincts told him to move, to get her to safety, but his body wouldn’t obey. Instead, he fell to the ground. He could hear Graham and David shoving the other women back inside the house. Annika though, was by his side, pushing down on his stomach.

Fuck, that hurt.

Another movement behind Annika had him trying to rise, to shield her again. But he couldn’t move.

Annika looked over her shoulder and gasped. She got to her feet and moved to stand in front of Logan, blocking him from the shooter’s view. She had her hands raised in front of her, elbows slightly bent, the glint of something dark and shiny covering her hands.

“Mr. Petersen!” she yelled. “Stop!”

“Annika! Get back,” Logan heard Graham call. She ignored him, her focus completely on the man with the gun.

“Mr. Petersen,” she tried again. “You don’t want to do this.” She was inching slowly forward, closer to the bastard who’d kidnapped her. Logan felt his heart in his throat as he watched the woman he loved face down a crazed gunman.

“Annika,” he moaned. He needed to protect her, but his body wouldn’t obey his commands. He tried to roll to his side to push himself up, agony erupted from his abdomen, making his vision blur at the edges. Gritting his teeth, he fought to stay conscious. There was danger, and he needed to stop it.

“Put down the gun, Mr. Petersen. You are not a killer.”

Fuck, Annika.Please stop. He wanted to get up. The need to whisk her away from yet another person holding a gun on her consumed him. He wanted to protect her from that and had vowed to himself to always keep her safe. But, once again, he hadn’t acted quickly enough. He should have charged the guy when he first saw the movement. For days he had felt that something was coming, that this thing with Petersen was not over. He was kicking himself for becoming sloppy since leaving the SEALs; he should have been more vigilant. He’d been careless and incompetent, and now it might be too late. He was going to lose Annika … again. And he was helpless to stop it.

“No!” Petersen cried. “This is the only way!” There were sirens in the distance, growing closer. Then he felt pain again as Graham pressed on his stomach. Hard. Something niggled at his brain, confused as to why he was in so much pain. He looked down at himself and saw the red of his blood staining his shirt.

Fuck.He’d been shot. He looked at Annika’s hands that were still raised and saw blood. He was having trouble thinking straight, pain overcrowding his senses. He wondered whose blood that was and worried she’d been shot too.

Think.Remember your training. How much blood had he lost already? How much time did he have left?Annika.He had to get to Annika. Protect her. He couldn’t lose her again. Not now. Not ever!

“No, Mr. Petersen. It’s not the only way.” She was arguing with him, trying to reason with a crazy man. He tried to get to his feet again, but Graham held him down.

“Stay down, Logan,” he insisted.

But Annika was in danger. She needed him. “Annika,” he croaked, trying to make Graham understand. He couldn’t just lay here. Annika had been shot, twice, and she still managed to talk her shooter down. Why couldn’t he move? Why was he having so much trouble breathing? If she could do all she did that day in that classroom, why couldn’t he? “Help Annika,” he pleaded with Graham. Why wouldn’t Graham help her? Why wasn’t he doing anything?

“Trust her,” Graham ordered. “Let her do her thing. She’s got this.”

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