Page 83 of Mistletoe and Malice
“Why do you need protecting from Pretty Boy Gentry?”
She chuckled. “He is rather nice-looking, isn’t he?”
“Not really my type.”
She laughed outright, and he couldn’t help smiling. “Nor mine. We went out once. Major bore. Talked nonstop about himself the entire evening. Not that I didn’t want to know about all his travels and his hobbies and whatever else. It was rather interesting … for about the first hour. Then I asked him what charitable organizations he was involved with, and he gaped at me as if I’d asked him to cut off his right arm. The only charitable giving he’d probably consider would be a building or something with his name on it.”
“Majorly rich, then.”
“Old money.”
“Like you.”
“Well … yeah. But we all work too. He does nothing other than spend his millions. And not on anything worthwhile. He thinks he lives this exciting, thrilling life. But it’s hollow. Meaningless.”
He stared down at her. “What do you want in your life? For your life?”
Her fingers did that thing with his lapel that made his neck tingle. “I want my life to mean something. I don’t want attention. I just want to do something with what I’ve been blessed with. I like to think I’d feel that way if I had to live from paycheck to paycheck. As long as you’re breathing, you can give something tosociety. A helping hand, a few hours of your time to serve meals to the homeless, or help build a house for someone who doesn’t have one. Even blood and bone marrow. There’s no limit to what people can do. You don’t have to have money. But I do. So I’m able to do more than the average citizen.”
“You give a lot more than money. Charity work is like a second full-time job for you.”
“Because I love it. It brings me joy.”
He smiled. “I can tell. It shows. You’re always happier when you’re doing something. Even in your career, you’re helping people who can’t help themselves.”
“As are you. I might give of my time and money, but I don’t think I could stand in the line of fire for somebody.”
He couldn’t pull his focus from her eyes. “I bet you would for somebody you truly cared for. Somebody you loved.”
Her expression sobered, and they barely moved with the music. When had the lights dimmed? It was as if they were all alone in the world.
He pulled her closer, their faces inches apart. Her lips parted?—
The unmistakable pop of a handgun made her flinch in his arms. He pushed her to the floor before the second pop sounded somewhere near the kitchen.
Pandemonium broke out. People tripped over them as they ran. He balanced his weight on his elbows so he didn’t crush Riley underneath him.
“Get down!” he yelled at people either running or frozen in panic around him. A woman stood beside them, so he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the ground as another round popped off, followed by a fourth.
Riley sobbed from beneath him. “Make it stop! Please, God, make it stop!”
When he heard no other shots over the din of screams and shouts, glass breaking, and feet running, he looked up and around. A body lay sprawled on the floor several feet from the kitchen door.
Paxton.
His gaze panned the still darkened room. Paul ran toward the kitchen with his gun unholstered. He glanced at Trevor but kept going. Gut-wrenching as it was to leave an injured or dying colleague, they’d been trained to secure the principal first. Paul must have seen Colton had Riley, so he was going for the SUV.
Riley’s sobs tore him open, but her prayer was now a mumbled one. “Please, God. Please, God.”
“Riley, you hit?”
“Please, please …”
“Riley.”
“I’m okay.”
With Paxton down, he was on his own. But he needed to get her somewhere safe, not in the middle of a dance floor being trampled by panicked people.
