He draped her coat over her to keep her warm and pulled out his cell. “McBride, it’s Corbray. Yes, she’s safe but in shock with contusions on her right temple, her hands, and one knee. She’ll need an ambulance. We’re inside the building. Killeen is down. I think the shots came from the top of a parking garage to the north of our position. He’s probably using a flash suppressor.”

Through the walls of the station Javier could hear the wail of sirens, but it sounded as if the shooting had stopped. Oh, how he wished he were out there, rifle in hand. He would run that fucker down and catch him trying to make his getaway.

But Javier couldn’t leave Laura.

“We’ll stay put. Roger that.” He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket, then walked to a nearby sink, grabbed a paper towel, and wet it. “One of the deputies is taking care of Killeen. Ambulances are on their way.”

Laura was silent, her gaze focused on nothing as he knelt beside her.

He pressed the wet paper towel to her temple, gently wiping away the blood, something in his chest constricting when the light pressure made her flinch. “Sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to get a look.”

Her temple had a few deep abrasions, and it looked as if some debris had embedded itself in her skin, probably from ricocheting bits of concrete. Once it was cleaned out, it would heal fine. She was lucky it hadn’t struck her eyes.

“Look at me, bella. Talk to me.”

She met his gaze, her eyes still unfocused, pupils dilated, body trembling, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. But she said nothing.

And Javier understood.

She’d been forced to watch the footage of her abduction and had then stepped out the door into a hail of gunfire. Together, it was just too much.

He pressed his forehead to hers and looked straight into her eyes. “Laura, do you hear me? You’re safe. You’re here with me, and you’re safe.”

A voice came from the dressing room doorway. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Javier looked up—and found himself staring into a camera lens.

“Turn that fucking thing off!” He reached out, put his palm over the lens, got to his feet, and slowly pushed the cameraman out the door. “You got any shame, man? She’s one of yours. If she were lying there bleeding to death, would you film that, too? Yeah, you probably would. Ratings, right?”

Martin spluttered, glaring at him. “Do you know how expensive that piece of equipment is? You can’t—

“The hell I can’t.” Javier stepped back, slammed the dressing room door in the cameraman’s face, and locked it. He sat beside Laura and drew her trembling body into his arms. “It’s going to be all right.”

* * *

IT WAS THE reassuring sound of Javier’s voice that reached her.

“Javi?”

“I’m right here, bella. You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Head throbbing, Laura realized she was in the station’s dressing room. She’d done the broadcast. Gary had played the footage of her abduction. And . . .

Oh, God! Someone had tried to shoot her!

“Wh-what . . . Who . . . ?” Her heart pounded as if she’d been running, her stomach churning, her body shaking uncontrollably.

He looked into her eyes. “You don’t need to worry about that. McBride, the cops—they’ve got this locked down. It’s over. You’re safe.”

It was then she remembered, her heart giving a hard knock, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush. “Janet. Agent Killeen! She was shot!”

It was happening again. People were dying because of her.

“The ambulance is almost here. There are marshals with her now. She’s not alone, bella. Just take deep breaths.”

Laura closed her eyes, tried to do as he said, but the sound of gunshots and screams echoed in her mind, memories of another time, another place.

Cries. AK fire. So much death.

Cover her! Cover her!

No. No. No!

She clung to Javier, the strength of his embrace and the reassuring tone of his voice holding her together, horror from the past threatening to drag her under. She lost any sense of time, aware only of Javier and the thrum of her own pulse.

A knock.

“Paramedics!”

“They’re here, bella.” Javier pulled away from her, reached over, unlocked the door. “They’ve come to help.”

Two men in paramedic uniforms entered, both carrying red medical kits.

“She’s got some abrasions, and I think she’s in shock—acute stress reaction,” Javier said.

The paramedics knelt down beside her. “You’ve had a rough night, but we’re going to check you over and take good care of you, Ms. Nilsson.”

One of them clipped something to the end of her finger and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her left arm, puffing it up until it was tight.

But Laura wasn’t the one who needed help. She tried to draw away. “Go to Janet—Agent Killeen. She’s been shot.”

Javier took her right hand and leaned in close where she could see him. “There’s already a team with her, Laura. These men are here to help you.”

They were here to help her? There was nothing wrong with her.

“I-I’m fine.”

None of them seemed to agree with her.

“Those contusions aren’t serious, but she’s definitely shocky. Pulse is ninety-eight. BP is seventy-five over forty.”

“We’ll get some fluids in her, give her some IV Ativan and some oxygen, and get her under transport.”

It took a moment for their words to hit her, but when they did, she shook her head.

“No. I’m not going to the hospital.”

“You’re in shock, bella. You need—”

“No! Take me home. I just want to go home.”

* * *

IT WAS ALMOST midnight by the time they reached The Ironworks and parked in the secured underground garage. Zach opened Laura’s door, Javier meeting her at the rear of the vehicle. Marc and Julian pulled into a visitor’s space near Laura’s car, which sat looking abandoned and forlorn, not having been driven in almost a week. Two other unmarked vehicles, each carrying two deputy marshals, slowly circled the garage, while the security detail that had her building under surveillance kept watch on the street.

She ought to feel safe, but she didn’t. Maybe it was recounting the details of what had happened for Alex for his news story. Or maybe it was just stress or exhaustion. Regardless, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that had crept over her. She felt hunted, the world closing in around her.

They walked to the elevator, Laura sandwiched between the men, their footfalls sharp against the concrete floor, the echo eerie. She pushed the elevator call button, and they waited.

Ding.

Laura gasped, jumped.

It was just the elevator car arriving.

Javier slipped an arm around her waist.

She let herself lean into him, needing him, needing his strength, his confidence. How could anyone live with this kind of violence as part of his job? She glanced up at the men around her, each of them willing to risk his life for hers, each of them ready and able to kill, each of them . . . so much taller than she was.

She let out a laugh, surprising herself as much as anyone else.

“What’s funny?” Javier asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been the shortest person in the room before.”

The men didn’t say a word, but Laura saw grins on their faces.

The elevator door opened, and they stepped out, crossing the small hallway to her door. Laura fished in her handbag and drew out her keys.

Zach held out his hand. “Hunter, you and I will clear the place. You two stay here with Laura.”

Laura gave him the keys and waited, Javier and Julian beside her. She heard the click of the dead bolt and looked up to see Kathleen Parker and her husband peering out of their front door.

“Yes, I’m still alive. I know you don’t want me here, but this is my home.”

The door shut hard, the bolt turning with a quiet click.

“What the hell was that about?” Julian asked.

Laura was about to explain, but Javier beat her to it. “The day after the car bomb, Ms. Nosy Yoga Pants there came over to tell Laura that she and her hubby and some other folks in the building would sleep better at night if Laura sold her flat and moved somewhere else.”

“I guess I can understand why they’re nervous, but seriously?” Julian rested a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Sorry you had to put up with that, Laura.”

Zach returned. “The place is clear.”

Laura walked inside—and stepped on something. She looked down to find a large manila envelope with her name on it lying on the floor. Pretty sure she knew what it was, she bent over and snatched it up, tucking it beneath her arm.

But Javier had seen. “What was that?”

“Oh, just some files I requested.” She hoped he would assume she was talking about her job. “You all feel free to make yourselves comfortable. Grab whatever you want from the kitchen. I’m going to take a shower and call my mother.”

She walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She set her purse aside and looked down at the envelope. There on the front, Agent Killeen had printed her name with black marker.

Poor Janet!

Laura sat on the edge of her bed, ran her fingers over the letters, and found herself blinking back tears. Janet had fought to stay on Laura’s protection detail and had ended up taking a bullet for it. Was she out of surgery yet? How badly had she been hurt?

What if Javier had been shot, too? What if he’d been killed?