He needed to jump up and return gunfire. But that would mean leaving Tanya unprotected. And he couldn’t do that. Again. He covered her body with his, pressing her into the hardwood floor.
Since the shooter on the street wouldn’t be able to hear them, he leaned his face close to her ear and whispered, “Are you okay?”
She shivered, trembling beneath him. But she didn’t speak. Maybe she was worried that the shooter could hear them.
But the gunfire had stopped. Maybe the assailant was just reloading. Or maybe he had gone.
“Tanya, are you okay?” he asked again.
Her breath shuddered out in a ragged sigh. She must have been holding it, and she murmured, “I think so...”
But he heard the doubt in her voice and eased up so she could roll over and face him. “Were you hit?” he asked. He ran his hands down her sides, checking for wounds. Just for wounds...
But he found soft curves and lean muscles instead. Heat tingled in his hands and in other parts of his body. A few minutes ago, he’d thought she was going to kiss him. Their mouths had been only a breath apart, but maybe that was because he’d leaned down—because he’d wanted to kiss her so badly his gut had clenched.
The woman got to him as no one else ever had. And that made her dangerous—almost as dangerous as the shooter.
She squirmed beneath him. Apparently she was still as ticklish as when they’d been kids. He used to tickle her then—just as an excuse to touch her.
But he’d had a reason to touch her this time. “Are you hurt?” he asked again.
When his hand skimmed over her rib cage, she sucked in a breath. “Just sore,” she murmured, “from my fall.”
She’d fallen twice. Once in the church when her sister had attacked her and again when the car had nearly run her down. Actually, three times since he’d shoved her to the floor—which was unyielding hardwood.
He wasn’t doing the greatest job protecting her. Maybe Logan had been right and he wasn’t ready yet for a field job. But he couldn’t imagine anyone else protecting her. Or marrying her.
She lifted her hand and skimmed her fingers over his throat, making his pulse leap even more wildly. And her eyes widened with shock and horror. “You’re bleeding! You’ve been hit! We need to call an ambulance!”
He brushed away the trickle of blood. “It’s just a scratch from the flying glass.”
He brushed some of those glass fragments from her silky blond hair and his fingertips tingled. He didn’t even notice the bite of the glass. All he noticed was the fresh flowery scent of her and the soft feel of her. She was so close. He only needed to lean down a few inches to close the distance between them and press his lips to hers.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. But he wasn’t. He was tempted to kiss his best friend’s bride while the man was missing. But hell, Cooper was the one who was going to marry her. Tomorrow. He drew in a deep breath to steady his racing pulse. “We should call the police.”
“He’s gone?” she asked hopefully.
He wasn’t certain about that...even though he had heard the squeal of tires as a car sped away.
“We still need to call to report the shooting.” There could be shell casings recovered. Witnesses questioned that might be able to identify the shooter. He reached for his cell phone.
And then he heard the footsteps, the stairs creaking beneath the weight of the person stealthily climbing up to Tanya’s apartment. Maybe the shooter hadn’t sped off in the car with the squealing tires. Maybe he had come upstairs to make sure he’d killed his intended victim.
Cooper drew his weapon from the holster on his belt. He pointed the barrel at the door as he scrambled to his feet and helped up Tanya. He shoved her toward the only other room in the studio apartment. The bathroom.
“Get in the tub,” he ordered her in an urgent whisper. Where he’d been, grenades were routinely tossed in houses. Or machine-gun fire that cut through walls like scissors through paper. “And stay down.”
He didn’t know if she did as he told her because she closed that door. And another opened, slowly, the old hinges creaking in protest. His finger twitched on the trigger as he prepared to pull it, especially as the first thing that entered the apartment was the barrel of a gun.
He waited to get a target before he took his shot. But just as he was about to squeeze the trigger, the intruder stepped from the shadows and revealed himself.
“Damn it, Logan!” he cursed his brother. “I almost shot you!”
Logan holstered his gun and gestured toward the broken window. “Looks like you got a little trigger-happy already.”
Cooper begrudgingly admitted, “I didn’t fire my weapon.” Then he pointed toward the holes in the drywall ceiling. “The shooter was down on the street.”
Which had probably saved Tanya’s life and his, because the trajectory of the bullets had sent them tunneling into the ceiling instead of into their bodies.
Sirens blared and blue and red lights flashed, refracting off all the broken glass. “And now the police are down there,” Logan pointed out with a slight sigh of relief.
Either the landlord or a neighbor must have called them. Cooper hadn’t had the chance to dial yet. He’d been too distracted. Tanya had distracted him.
“Why are you here?” he asked his older brother, who was also now his boss. “You checking up on me?” He couldn’t blame him if he was. His first assignment with Payne Protection and he was already blowing it. First, he’d lost Stephen, and he’d nearly lost Tanya more than once.
“You said you were going to get some information for me,” Logan reminded him. “Tanya’s list of difficult cases and exes.”
“What? Were you waiting in the car for it?” Cooper asked—almost hopefully. Because if his brother had been just outside, he would have seen something.
Logan shook his head. “No. I went back to the church to check on Mom and she ordered me back here.”
“She ordered you?” Cooper teased. “I thought you were the boss.”
Logan chuckled. “Doesn’t matter who’s listed as CEO, Mom will always be the boss.”
“She sent you back for the list?” Maybe their mother was running Payne Protection, too.
“She sent me back for Tanya.”
More footsteps sounded on the staircase. “That’s probably the police.”
“Once you two give your report, I need to take Tanya with me,” Logan said.
“So Mom doesn’t trust me to protect her?” He flinched at the pang of regret. She had always had more faith in her oldest son than her youngest.
Logan chuckled again. “No. It’s all about tradition or superstition...”
“What is?” Cooper asked as his head began to pound with confusion and exhaustion. He’d endured tours of duty that had been less dangerous and stressful than this night. “What are you talking about?”
“Mom doesn’t want you to spend the night before your wedding with your bride.”
* * *
USUALLY TANYA SANK into her claw-foot tub with a sigh of relief as the hot water eased the tension from her body. Her tub would never again relieve her stress because she had never been as scared as she was crouched down beneath the rim.
Someone was obviously determined that Tanya wouldn’t