Taylor started to swing a broom handle at him, but froze with the end of it in midair, her arm dropping to her side. Her blue eyes were wide as she scanned him, likely for wounds. “Are you okay? What happened?”

He hooked his hand under her elbow and steered her into the kitchen. “Man who said he was looking for Vadim shot at me before racing off. Sandy-blond hair, medium build, maybe five-eleven. Driving a black SUV. Ring any bells?”

She bit her bottom lip as she moved with him, clutching the broom tightly in her hand. “Maybe. Gordon Simpson is the man I saw at the police station. He’s got blond hair, but it’s pretty light. And I don’t know how tall he is. Taller than me.”

He snorted. “Most people are probably taller than you.”

To his surprise, she laughed, the musical quality of it taking him off guard. “True.”

“Grab all your blood-stained clothes and anything you need to take with you. We’re not coming back here,” he informed her, gently pushing her toward the bedroom as he made his way to the foyer.

Vadim’s house was all glass, wood and high ceilings with exposed beams. Roman knew he had a special film over his windows that made it difficult to see inside. The foyer was one of the best vantage points because of the long, slim windows on the sides of the front door. So Roman surveyed the front yard, driveway, and all he saw was dust kicking up in the distance where the SUV had fled.

There was a risk leaving with Taylor, but it was calculated. Because if they stayed, they had a higher chance of being attacked. Roman knew there was a definite potential for an ambush as they left the property but he didn’t think it would happen. A single man had shown up, obviously not expecting Roman to be here and ready for him. No, the guy would be leaving and regrouping and possibly getting more backup. Roman didn’t want to stay here and find out. There were just too many unknowns at this point. He turned away front the window at the sound of Taylor approaching.

“I’ve got it all.” She lifted two plastic bags of her things.

He nodded. Normally he’d take a woman’s bags for her, but he wasn’t putting his weapon down. “We’re going to leave with you driving my truck and I’m going to follow you in the Pinto. Once we reach the end of Vadim’s driveway,”—which was a mile long—“we’re going to head east. There’s a gas station about three-quarters of a mile down the road. We’re going to leave the Pinto there and take my truck to the hospital.” His truck had bullet-resistant windows so he knew she’d be safe inside. And he was armed and had taken multiple defensive driving courses so he wasn’t worried about himself.

“Okay, but why are we leaving the Pinto?”

“Did you steal it?” She hadn’t said how she’d gotten here when she’d spoken to Vadim, but the woman had broken into the man’s house with impressive ease. Somehow he didn’t think stealing a car would be an issue for her. And a Pinto didn’t seem like her style.

Her cheeks flushed, the natural caramel of her skin tone darkening to a crimson. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he muttered, pulling his keys out of his pocket and handing them to her. “You okay to drive?”

She nodded as she clasped them in her palm. “Roman, I don’t know how I can ever thank you.” Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away. “You don’t even know me and I just…thank you.”

Any kind of praise made him as uncomfortable as crying women did, so he just nodded. “No problem,” he grunted and turned on his heel. He was going to reset Vadim’s alarm, then they were getting the hell out of here. And he was going to keep Taylor safe no matter what. He couldn’t explain what it was, but he felt the strangest pull toward her, his attraction for her sharpening each second that passed.

* * *

Taylor didn’t understand why she had to wear the stupid, itchy hospital gown when she knew she wouldn’t be staying. But the scary nurse had insisted and Roman had been no help whatsoever. Shifting against the bed, she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

“The gowns aren’t that bad,” Roman murmured, his eyes lit with amusement from his perch near the window.

Still no smile though. She wondered if he actually knew how. His arms were crossed over his massive chest, those different-colored eyes pinned on her. It was dark outside but the room lights glinted off his hair, highlighting the natural auburn throughout his darker brown hair. He was…ridiculously handsome. So much so that it left her feeling unbalanced. And he hadn’t left her side.

“You want to wear it then?”

His lips pulled together. “I’m not the one who got shot.”

Almost against her will she found her gaze drawn to his mouth. Damn it, what was wrong with her? Now that she was coming down from that insane adrenaline high, she should be ready to pass out again. Instead she found herself captivated by Roman… “Hey, what’s your last name?” she blurted, realizing she had no idea. And she really wanted to know.

She could barely remember the last guy she’d slept with, let alone been this attracted to. Okay, she didn’t think she’d ever been attracted to anyone as much as Roman. The timing was awful, making her feel even crappier. Her friend was dead and she was having annoying feelings for a stranger.

“MacNeil.” Now his gaze dropped to her mouth and his eyes heated with a surprising intensity.

So much so that she squirmed against the starchy sheets of the hospital bed. She opened her mouth, ready to say something—anything—when the door opened.

A huge, dark-haired man wearing black slacks, a light blue dress shirt with no tie and a police badge hooked to his belt stepped in. The man could have been a football player he was so big. He nodded once at Roman, who straightened and made a beeline for her bed.

The action surprised her, but Roman moved in like he was her personal bodyguard as he smoothly slid in place directly next to her head. She looked up at him and smiled gratefully. One corner of his mouth quirked up and she felt it all the way to her toes.

God, she was a hot mess. She shouldn’t be noticing anyone in a sexual way right now. Turning back to the man she guessed was here to see her, she forced a smile. “I assume you’re Detective Hurley?”

He nodded and grabbed a seat on the opposite side of her bed. “Yes, ma’am. Detective Cody Hurley but you can call me either. I answer to both.” He gave her a charming grin she was sure usually got the ladies ruffled. He probably used it when interrogating female suspects.

“Okay, Cody. You can call me Taylor.”

Cody pulled out a small, spiral notepad and a pen. She let out a nervous laugh, which sounded almost maniacal even to herself. Jeez, she needed to get a grip. When Roman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, she reached up and briefly put her hand over his without thinking. She rarely depended on anyone for anything and she wasn’t sure why she was leaning on him now other than it was simply instinctual. Which, yeah, she knew was crazy. But she didn’t care because if Vadim trusted him then that was good enough for her, and the man’s presence was comforting.

The detective raised his eyebrows. “Is something funny?”

“No. I sometimes have weird social responses when I get nervous. I didn’t think detectives actually used notepads. It seems like something off of television and it’s why I laughed.” Even though it wasn’t funny at all. Stop talking, she ordered herself. At least she wasn’t laughing like a crazy person anymore so that was good.

He gave a real smile. “Well, we do. So do patrolmen. It’s how we keep track of everything. So, I already talked to the nurse and she assures me you’ve been shot. We’re going to send your medical records over to Oceanside for documentation.”

A sharp sense of relief invaded Taylor as he continued.

“I’ve already talked to a friend on the force with Oceanside PD about your presence here. After what Roman told me about the shooter at Vadim’s place and about you being in shock and fleeing to Vegas, they know you’re not on the run.”