Page 96 of Under Fire

“I have to go,” Alisa asserted.

“Come over after your shift. We have unfinished business.”

She chewed her lip, unconvinced.

A group exited the hospital doors, pushing them aside. Warren knew he couldn’t linger. Then Katy’s giggling stopped, but he was too focused to think.

“Just come,” he said.

Alisa flashed her bright eyes at him, but he didn’t miss how they grew concerned. Deeply troubled. His spidey sense tingled, and he spun to see a man in a leather jacket who was stomping up the sidewalk.Dean.

“What the fuck is this?” Warren said. He planted himself firmly and squarely between the threat and the woman he would die for.

“Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easy?” Dean replied, reaching into his leather jacket. “She’s mine.”

He pulled out a gun.

Onlookers screamed, jumping aside. Suddenly, the situation felt like a duel, a standoff. Warren felt underprepared with no weapons but his fists.

“Cool it,” Warren said. He motioned for Dean to stop but the man inched forward.

“She’s not yours. I don’t care what the fuck I have to do—”

“Stop. I don’t want to have to kill you, but I will.”

“Who’s holding the gun?” Dean’s unhinged grin was telling, the bruising and swelling on his face almost disfiguring him. He pointed the gun right at Warren, his finger on the trigger.

Purely on instinct, Warren dove toward the man, wasting no time. The gun fired but Warren caught Dean in the torso fast enough, driving him to the ground. The distinct echo of a bullet hitting concrete reassured Warren. A short scuffle led Warren to gain the upper hand, seizing the gun, aiming it at Dean.

Warren moved to arrest the man but lost his grip on his jacket. In a flash, Dean bounced back, whipping out a long, ugly knife from the inside his jacket—the same type of knife that had given Warren his scar, the type of knife he’d never forget. He dove at Warren, the knife out.

Warren pulled the trigger. He had no choice.

He’d seen the life go from a man’s eyes many times but never had it been so personal.

As the blood pooled behind Dean’s head on the concrete, Warren took a step back, wishing he were alone. He felt the unmistakable touch of Alisa, running her hand up his back, the only warmth left in his body. A part of him wanted to ball up and just fucking cry. It did not feel good to kill. Never did…even to protect.

He stiffened his mouth and turned to Alisa, checking to confirm she was okay. She was okay.Everyonewas okay.

“Warren,” Alisa said, but stopped. She choked up, looking back and forth between the menace that had haunted her life lifeless on the concrete and Warren.

She didn’t say anything. There were no words left to say. He felt that.

Warren leaned down and kissed her, trying for a sweet, promising gesture. It was over as quick as it had started. Sirens in the background drew them apart once again. Staring into her eyes, he knew his decisions had been right. There was no turning back to his old life, but he wouldn’t want to anyway. She was the only reason he still felt anything at all.

“Come find me,” he said. “I need you.” He ran his hand down her cheek, brushing aside a tear.

Someone called out in the background. “Alisa…Alisa!”

She chewed her lip as people rushed to the scene. She took a step back, then another. To the calls of her name, her gaze turned downcast, and she shrank back to the hospital doors. The last glimmer he saw in her eyes told him more than she would.

He’d take that.

* * * *

Mission-focused, Warren marched up Brooke’s driveway, holding Katy against his chest. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen what had happened, and he didn’t have to stick around giving statements to cops for too long. It had been cut and dry. He wasn’t happy about what had happened, but he couldn’t deny a weight had been lifted, knowing that he’d neutralized the threat to Alisa for good.

All he had to focus on was the rest of his scrambled life. He had about seven hours to get ready for what he was going to say to Alisa. He had to apologize, and he had to make it good. That was, if she even showed up to his place. She wasn’t all that committed when he’d asked her. He didn’t blame her. It had been a fucked up twenty-four hours.

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