Page 95 of Deadly Secrets
A fresh shot rang out, echoing in the distance. “Gotcha,” Polly said, and then, “Target acquired, but we’re going to need an ambulance.”
Brooke fumbled for her phone to dial 911, but of course, Shane was already on it. His voice came over the comm. “Two ambulances en route. ETA ten minutes. Thomas, Ronni, and Mitch are five minutes out.”
Where was Roman? Why hadn’t he checked in? Had Clyffe and the troopers caught any of the other men? Was Weber still alive?
Sitting there in the dark was a nightmare. Roman was out there with his team and the others, and here she sat, a hundred yards away from the action, useless.
But she would not be one of those too-stupid-to-live heroines in some of the books she’d read. Even though she’d had a decent amount of self-defense training and gun range practice in the past few days, this entire situation was way out of her wheelhouse.
Everything about Roman from the moment he’d walked—or shot—his way into her life that night at the bar had turned her world upside down. She’d become as close to an actual agent as she ever would, had an affair with her boss—which she’d never do in the “real” world—and he just happened to be the sexiest man she’d ever met.
Talk about being out of my wheelhouse.
Her reluctance to get involved with him in the first place had been spot on. He had major secrets, and even though she’d played the part of the romance heroine to a T, pretending to be bold and carefree about sex, in the end, she just might be too stupid to live in her own life after all. She’d fallen for the hero, all right. Lock, stock, and boxing ring.
But she could never trust him with her heart. Just like Conrad Flynn inOperation Sheba, Roman thought he was invincible. That his reasons for doing what he did, no matter who got hurt, were for the greater good. Maybe they were, but lies and secrets had already caused her so much pain. Ruined her family. Possibly got people killed.
All she’d ever wanted was the truth.
Could Roman ever give her that?
A few feet away, a shadow moved. Her heart beat frantically. Was it a man? An animal? She fingered the gun, her hand sweaty. Could she do it? Kill someone?
I’ll aim for his knee.
She always wondered in cop shows when they were pursuing a subject on foot, running around with their guns drawn and the perp in shooting range, why didn’t they actually shoot the subject? If they didn’t want to kill him because they needed him to talk, why didn’t they simply incapacitate him? Shoot him in the arm, leg, or foot? It drove her nuts.
But fiction wasn’t real life. Cop shows had to be full of action and excitement, chases on foot, the bad guys getting the upper hand until the last climactic scene.
She had to admit that so far, real life had been pretty close to that. She’d been in two firefights now, a car chase, and was at this moment holding her breath in the dark, wondering if Roman was ever coming back to her.
The shadow didn’t reappear, but she kept the Glock ready. Her eyes scanned the front, sides, rear. An owl hooted.
And then she heard another scuffle off to the right.
“Roman!” Polly’s voice cut through the night. “Behind you!”
Brooke sat forward even more, scanning the area, gun raised.Where is he?
Shots echoed off to her right. She heard a man cry out.
“Roman!” she yelled, not caring if she was breaking some comm rule. “Are you okay?”
Her hand was on the door handle, her gun up and ready to fire, when his voice stopped her from jumping out of the vehicle and running blindly into the night.
“Suspect down and in custody.” His breathing was ragged. “How many does that make total?”
He sounded funny, his voice tight. Was he hurt?
Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She flung the door open and hopped out as Polly responded. “Six. The troopers and Clyffe caught three and so did we.”
Six.
Out of ten.
“And Weber?” Brooke asked, holding onto the doorframe. Every cell in her body cried out for her to move, to find Roman, but she had no idea where he was. “Did anyone get him?”
“No,” Polly said. “He and the others disappeared into the desert.”
