Page 121 of Wasted
The curator froze, staring at Cillian. “You stay away from me.” Panic twisted his tone.
But Cillian kept walking toward him.
“I mean it!” Glenn’s shout carried to Victoria and beyond. “You stay back!” His hand reached into his coat pocket as Cillian kept approaching.
She tensed. A museum curator wouldn’t be carrying a weapon, would he? She opened her mouth to call out a warning to Cillian.
Before she could, Cillian lunged at the curator, hitting him low on the hips.
The men disappeared between the parked vehicles.
She scrambled out of her car and ran to where they’d fallen out of view.
Grunts reached her on the wind as she stopped at the rear of the vehicles, her gaze landing on Cillian and Glenn.
Cillian was on top of the older man, but Glenn kept struggling.
They seemed to be battling for control of his hand.
And the gun he held there.
Victoria’s heart stopped.
Glenn grunted and strained against Cillian, managing to pull his arm down, angling the gun toward Cillian.
A shout of warning surged up Victoria’s throat. But she held it back. She could distract Cillian at the wrong moment.
Lord, please help him restrain Glenn. Don’t let him get shot.
Cillian abruptly sat up and launched a punch, landing the blow sidelong into Glenn’s face.
Glenn’s arm and body went limp, the gun dropping to the pavement.
Breath returned to Victoria’s lungs. She went to the men, her pulse still racing. “Is he unconscious?”
Cillian grabbed the gun and sat up, twisting his head to see her behind him. “Think so.” He breathed hard with the words, a cloud of air forming in front of his face. “You’re the expert, Doctor.”
A siren sounded.
She pivoted toward it.
Two police cars made their way to them on the road that led to the long-term parking lot. Where Cillian had proven himself a hero, once again.
He rose to his feet and came close to her. He put his arm around her waist, his warmth and strength seeping through her coat as they both watched Glenn, lying unmoving on the ground.
As if of its own accord, her head tilted to rest on Cillian’s chest.
Praise the Lord, it was over.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Mission accomplished. Cillian had ended two threats against Victoria. The threat of death posed by an unlikely murder suspect and the threat of arrest by a vindictive police detective would no longer haunt her.
Cillian sat on the sofa in Victoria’s living room, watching the woman of his dreams as she perched on the edge of the armchair’s cushion and texted her siblings.
The steady red light of her ankle monitor peeked out from beneath the hem of her pants. The cops should’ve taken that off right away when they’d arrested Glenn. But Detective McCully had claimed he couldn’t until the court order was reversed or ended.
