His Wedding Date (The Second Chance Love Series, Book 2) (25 page)

"What?"

"He hadn't been himself lately. He'd been distracted."

"Really?"

Grant shifted ever so slightly to the side, and that's when Shelly felt it–what she feared was a gun in his pocket.

"I think it's Marion," she said, so scared she could hardly breathe. "I don't think she's doing well, and Charlie's been worried a lot. Maybe that's all it was that day he fell from the bridge. Just him distracted and worrying about Marion."

"Yeah," Grant said, latching on to her explanation. "I can see that."

"It only takes a minute up there, one slip... "

"Exactly," Grant said.

Shelly started sobbing all over again, clinging to him. Then she heard what she prayed was the door opening behind her.

Grant heard it, too.

He pushed her away, but she held on, taking her time about moving away from him. He couldn't shoot Brian if Shelly was clinging to him, could he?

"I'm sorry," Brian said tightly. "The door was open and I... "

Shelly watched as he looked from Grant to her, as a scowl came across his face at the sight.

It would have been funny—and immensely satisfying–under any other circumstances, him upset about finding her with another man. But Shelly was scared. What if Grant had a gun? She wanted Brian here, but she didn't want him hurt.

"I don't believe we've met." Brian extended a hand to the man standing warily beside her. "Brian Sandelle."

"Grant Edwards," he said, taking the hand offered to him, then backing away to where Shelly stood. Grant put his arm around her and hauled her up against his side. "Shelly and I are old friends."

"So I see." Brian's jaw was clenched so tightly she was surprised he could get the words out.

Shelly took a step back and to the side, needing to warn Brian, who was watching her every move.

Gun.
She mouthed the word. Then put her hand on the front right pocket of her jeans.

"You lying little bitch," Grant said.

He lunged for her and his weapon at the same time. Before she could do anything, he had her in a chokehold in front of him. His gun pointed at Bryan, who looked murderous.

"Back off," Grant barked.

Brian backed away, but he wasn't backing down. "You hurt her," he told Grant, "and I'll kill you myself."

Grant was breathing hard now, and Shelly was gasping for air against the pressure of his arm at her throat. She put her hands up to pull at his punishing arm, to claw at it. Grant only pulled his grip tighter, so tight she thought for a minute she was going to faint.

"You be still if you want to breathe," Grant told her, and she went still, at least for the moment.

"What do you want, Grant?" she demanded, once she wasn't gasping for air. "What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything," he said.

"What about Charlie?"

"What about him? I didn't hurt him."

"Did you help him off that bridge?" Brian asked.

"He fell," Grant insisted, becoming more and more agitated. "The paper—it said he fell."

"That's not what the sheriff thinks," Brian continued, never taking his eyes off Grant "He believes someone helped Charlie off that bridge, the same guy who bashed Charlie's head in with a rock before pushing him into the water."

"I didn't do that," Grant said, sweating now. "I didn't do any of that."

"The sheriff thinks you did," Brian said.

Shelly gasped as the gun swung away from her and toward the man she loved.

"Why would he think that?" Grant said. "Why would he know anything about me?"

"I told him," Shelly said, ignoring the warning look that Brian threw her. "I recognized your voice—on the phone. You tried to warn me away from here, didn't you, Grant?"

"What if I did? It doesn't mean that I... It doesn't mean anything," he insisted.

"The sheriff thinks it does," Brian said, drawing the man's wrath back to him.

Shelly couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand the gun pointed at Brian. She knew Grant. She didn't think he'd really hurt her, but she wasn't so sure about what he might do to Brian.

"You killed Charlie. I know you did." Shelly couldn't see the look on his face, but she felt his panic and kept talking. "How could you do that to him? He was a good man, and I know the two of you were friends. How could you murder a friend?"

"It wasn't like that," he said. "I never meant to hurt him. I just wanted to talk to him. I wanted to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"But you were there," Brian said. "You were with him that day on the bridge."

"What if I was?"

"You killed him," Shelly said, certain of it now. It made her feel sick inside. A man she knew, one she'd trusted, had killed Charlie.

"I'm telling you," he growled at her. "It wasn't like that."

"Why?" Brian asked. "Why did you do it? What are you after?"

"Look, I didn't mean to hurt anybody," he said, his movements becoming more abrupt, the gun swinging wildly "He just... he wouldn't listen to me."

"You bastard," Shelly said. He killed Charlie, and now he had a gun pointed at Brian.

She wasn't going to give Grant a chance to use it. Shelly did the only thing she could think of to distract the man long enough for Brian to catch him off guard. She pretended to faint.

It wasn't hard. Her legs were like jelly, anyway. She let herself fall, throwing all her weight against the arm hooked around her neck. As she went down, she elbowed Grant in the stomach as hard as she could.

He groaned.

"Get down," Brian yelled to her as he dove into Grant, knocking him backward.

They rolled together across the room, amid the debris still littering the floor. Brian got his arm free, then pounded his clenched fist into Grant's face, stunning him just long enough for Brian to get the gun.

They both rose to their feet, breathing hard, watching each other warily.

"Get out of here, Shelly," Brian said, never taking his eyes off Grant. "Now! Go call the cops."

She should do that. She knew it. She was just having trouble convincing her legs to work. She'd been so scared.

"And you," Brian said to Grant. "You move a muscle, and I'll shoot."

Grant laughed, a dangerous, half-crazy sound. It sent a shiver up Shelly's spine.

"No, you won't," Grant said. He knocked Shelly down as he made his way to the front door and kept going.

Brian cursed and bolted through the doorway, extending his hands in front of him. He squeezed the trigger. Shelly braced herself for the sound of the weapon firing, but heard nothing except Brian cursing for all he was worth.

He worked furiously over the unfamiliar gun for an instant, then took aim again, too late. Grant had disappeared around the corner. Brian clicked a button on the back of the gun, then put it down on the table beside the door.

"What happened?" Shelly asked, feeling dizzy. Grant was no longer cutting off her air, but it felt like he was, like she just couldn't get enough air in her lungs.

"He's stupid, or he doesn't know his way around a gun or he never intended to shoot anyone, because he still had the safety on." Brian swore, softly this time.

He wasn't sure he could have hit the guy, anyway, but he would have taken the shot. He could have done it, because that man had held a gun to Shelly's head.

"Shel?" Brian said. Turning around, he saw her swaying on her feet.

He barely managed to catch her in time to keep her from hitting the floor.

Chapter 16

Shelly came to and found herself held tightly against Brian as he carried her down the hallway. In a moment, they were outside, heading for his car.

She lifted her head off his shoulder and pushed against him slightly. She wanted him to put her down, feeling foolish that he'd had to pick her up in the first place, but Brian would have nothing of that.

"Be still," he said, the tight control evident in his tone. "We're almost to the car."

Shelly found it hard to breathe again, just as she had when Grant's arm had tightened around her throat.

It was cool outside and almost pitch-black, with the shadowy images of Grant and the gun spinning through her mind. Or was it her head that was spinning? She was more shaken than she'd realized.

Grant had had a gun, yet he hadn't been prepared to use it. If he had, Brian would likely have shot him, and this whole mess might be over.

Grant had been like a man who'd snapped, a desperate, reckless, dangerous man. She had hardly recognized him.

She could still feel him crushing her throat. She could see him waving that gun all over the place, then aiming it directly at Brian's heart.

Even though she knew now that he'd never taken off the safety catch on the gun, she went cold all over again.

They got to the car. Brian set her on her feet, but didn't let go of her.

"Hang on," he said, pressing her against his side, between him and the car, while he found his keys and unlocked her door.

Shelly got in with his help, then let herself sink down into the seat. She let her head fall back against the headrest while she closed her eyes and tried not to think of what had happened.

She heard Brian get in beside her, punch a number on his car phone, and explain the situation to someone who must have been a police emergency dispatcher.

Even now, it was hard to take in. A man in her apartment with a gun, threatening them both, then fleeing into the night... A man who was wanted for questioning in the suspicious death of their boss.

Grant could be anywhere, she thought, turning her head to the side and trying to figure out whether she saw anything moving outside. He could be in the shadows beside the building, in the next block, in the next county before too long.

They didn't even know what he wanted. They didn't know anything and—

"The police are coming," Brian said, sounding almost angry as he hung up the phone.

"He killed Charlie," she said.

"I know he did. Are you all right?"

Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

Brian couldn't see her that well. It was too dark in the car. But he needed to see that she was all right. He flicked on the overhead light and looked down into her chalky-white face. She had dark circles under her eyes—lack of sleep, no doubt—and the bruise on her cheekbone was faint but still there.

She'd have new bruises tomorrow, from where that bastard had grabbed her around her neck.

Brian felt positively violent when he thought of the way she'd tried to protect him. She'd drawn the man's attention—and the gun—away from him and back to her.

He would have admired her for her courage and her quick thinking if he hadn't been so damned mad at her for putting so little value on her own safety.

Just thinking about it made Brian curl his hand into a fist. He was angrier than he'd ever been in his life. Frightened, frustrated, confused, impatient—it all simmered there inside him, just begging for an excuse to get out.

Grant Edwards had given him an excuse, and unwillingly given up his gun, as well.

Brian could have shot the man. He was that angry at him for putting Shelly in danger.

He slid his seat back as far as it would go and hauled Shelly across the console that separated them. Once he had her on his lap with her head tucked against his shoulder and his arms holding her tight, he felt better. He didn't question anymore the way she felt in his arms, the way she fit there as if she'd been made to be held close to him.

She was trembling badly, her breath coming out in shaky little puffs. She was cold to his touch.

Brian shifted her slightly in his arms, to press her more closely against him. He kissed her cheek, the corner of her eye, her forehead.

God, he needed this.

He didn't understand how a man's feelings for a woman could grow and change so much, so quickly. He didn't know how he was going to explain that to her, either. How could he possibly make her believe that what he felt for her now was real?