“Ah!” he yelled, pulling back in shock as his hand went to his mouth. He backhanded her. “I’m bleeding, you bitch.”

Taking advantage of one free hand, Lindsey hit him in the face and twisted to try and get away. He pulled her by the hair and then slapped her again. This time harder. “Stop fighting and make this easy on yourself.”

Dragging her by her hair, he yanked her back to the bed. Lindsey cried out, feeling as if her hair was coming out by the roots. She kicked him, and he hit her again. Pain lashed through her cheek and eye, making her shake from head to foot. Or maybe it was from a combination of fear and adrenaline. Darkness threatened to take over as spots appeared in front of her eyes.

In her head, she yelled. No!

She wasn’t ready to die.

* * * * *

Standing in front of the courthouse, sticky with perspiration, Mark dialed Lindsey’s cell phone, trying to remain calm.

This was his third attempt with no answer. Pacing the sidewalk he felt tense, agitated, afraid. Where was she? Something was wrong, really wrong. He felt it in every inch of his body. Maggie had confirmed Lindsey had gone to Steve’s but Steve hadn’t seen her.

He dialed Steve again. “She’s not answering her phone, home or cell. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Steve cursed into the phone. “I’m going to head to her apartment since it’s only a few blocks from where I’m at. But then—”

“Just go, and I’ll meet you there. Just be careful. I’ll be about ten minutes behind you.”

Mark hung up and started to run down the street, feeling his pulse pounding in his temple. Wherever Lindsey was, she needed him, he could feel it. It felt like forever, though it was only minutes, before he arrived at her apartment. He took the stairs two at a time, not bothering with the elevator.

Standing in front of her door, he raised his hand to knock, but then dropped it. Instead, he tested the doorknob. When it turned, he knew it wasn’t good. He fought the urge to run through the door, and yell Lindsey’s name. Pushing the door open, he tried to see what he could hear.

Then Lindsey screamed.

Mark took off running, headed towards her voice, desperate to get to her. Red-hot rage exploded inside when he saw the man on top of her. Lunging forward, he reached for the man’s shirt, yanking him off of her body. “You son of a bitch!” he screamed as he flung him to the ground.

Mark’s breathing was erratic as he took in Lindsey’s bruised face, pain wrenching at his heart.

A low growl from the attacker drew his attention. Realization hit with a bitter sting. “Garth?”

The other man let out a burst of harsh laughter, pushing to his feet and lunging at Mark all in one move. His arms wrapped around Mark’s waist, as he sent him stumbling backwards. Mark managed to get his arms under the other man’s, and pry him off. Garth countered by throwing a punch, but Mark managed to block it.

* * * * *

Pure adrenaline powered Lindsey now. Her mind went back to her options. Gun. In purse by door. Had to get to her gun. She kept repeating her objective in her head, afraid the fog would take over. Stumbling, fighting dizziness, she managed to make it through the room and into the hall. She stumbled, falling to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Crawling the rest of the way, she found her purse and dumped it.

The front door burst open, and then Steve was there, squatting down beside her. “Oh, God,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, swallowing a sob as she grabbed his arm. “Help Mark. It’s Garth, Steve. It’s Garth.”

Steve frowned, but he acted without haste as his training dictated, pulling his gun and rounding the corner with stealth-like speed. Steve holstered his gun as he took in the two men going hand to hand. He might shoot Mark. He had no option but to do this the physical way.

He moved forward, yanking Garth from behind just as Mark jabbed him with a right hook to the face. Garth toppled over on Steve, knocking him to the ground. In a split second, Garth flipped around and yanked Steve’s gun from his holster.

Pointing the gun at Steve, he laughed, “Too slow,” he spat. “Get up.” Cutting a sideways glance at Mark, he added, “One wrong move and he’s dead.”

“Drop the gun, Garth,” Lindsey said from the doorway, her gun pointed at him.

She felt Mark’s eyes. “Lindsey—”

“I’m fine Mark.” But she wasn’t and she knew it.

Garth sneered at her. “No you’re not, darling. You’re bleeding. Why don’t you just hand over that gun and sit your pretty little ass down. Poppa will be right over to kiss it all better.”

Mark took a step towards Garth. “You son of—”

“Call off your dog, Lindsey,” Garth warned. “Or Steve’s a dead man.” He jabbed the gun to Steve’s temple.

Mark stopped dead in his tracks. “Garth,” Lindsey said stepping forward. “This little game is over. Drop the weapon.”

“Or what, darling?”

“I’ll shoot you.”

“I doubt that.”

“If you think for a minute I will hesitate, you’re dead wrong.”

He laughed again, the sound making Lindsey shiver. “Let’s find out. How about a little game of chicken?” He shoved Steve. “Get over there beside Mark.”

Lindsey kept her gun aimed at Garth. “I bet I can shoot one of them before you can manage to put me down.” He smiled. “You choose which one will live and which one will die.”

Garth waved the gun between Steve and Mark. Lindsey kept her gun aimed at Garth. She didn’t doubt he would shoot one of them. Maybe both. He was crazy. She should shoot him before he could shoot them. But . . . . she was foggy. It was hard to think. Should she?

“Game’s up, Lindsey,” Steve said quietly.

Lindsey heard his words, and absorbed their meaning. He was telling her what to do. She pulled the trigger, no hesitation. A second later, Garth crumpled to the floor.

Lindsey had shot him.

Steve’s words washed over Mark. He had reminded her of her training, of her only option. She had to shoot first. And Steve knew she wouldn’t wilt under pressure.

Mark’s eyes darted from Garth to Lindsey as he watched her lean against the wall and then slip down to the floor. Mark ran to her side, pulling her into his arms. The courage she had shown amazed him, but most of all it made him proud. She was amazing, such a combination of vulnerability and strength. She was the woman he loved and he was thankful she was alive. Losing her would have been a nightmare. Stroking her hair, he rocked her, whispering comforting words.

“He’s dead,” Steve said.

It was over.

* * * * *

Finally, after hours at the hospital, Mark carried Lindsey through his front door, her head resting on his shoulder. He had taken her to the emergency room as soon as Steve’s back-up arrived. She had a concussion and a lot of bumps and scrapes. More than anything, she had the trauma of the experience.

Lindsey had turned over her weapon to the authorities, and would now be subjected to an internal investigation. Standard procedure, even though she was on leave. Still, he hated it. He didn’t want this to get dragged out any longer than it had to. She deserved to put this behind her.

Ever so carefully he set her on the bed. Lindsey’s eyes fluttering open. “Where are we?” she asked.

“We’re home, baby,” he said as he bent down and kissed her forehead.

She blinked and looked at him through swollen eyes. “I hurt all over.”

“I know. You’re due some more pain medicine,” he told her. “Let me get you something to drink to take it with and then we’ll get you undressed.”

She nodded. He started to turn. “Mark?” He gave her a questioning look. “You saved my life.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “And you returned the favor, if I remember correctly.”

Her lips trembled. “I should have listened to you.”

He kissed her hand, afraid of hurting her if he kissed her anywhere else. “It’s done and over. I’m just glad I didn’t lose you.” Emotion lodged in his throat. “Rest. I’ll get your pain medicine.”