Page 78 of On the Chase
The gun rose, the barrel almost level, and Hugh braced himself for the shot he knew was coming. Hell, he’d been shot before and survived. He could do it again. Maybe it would give Agent Swanson time to take Noah out before he could hurt Grace any more than he already had.
Before Noah could fire, Grace’s leg shot up, and her booted foot caught Noah square in the crotch. Noah’s expression changed, his eyes going wide and his mouth rounding in a surprised—and pained—grimace. The gun tumbled from his grip as both hands clutched his groin. Grace rolled out of the way just before Noah, letting out an agonized groan, swayed and fell to his knees.
Hugh tackled him, taking Noah the rest of the way to the floor. The gun went flying, skidding across the tile until it disappeared under a stall. Hugh punched Noah in the face twice, fast and hard, holding the image of Grace’s precious, bloody features in his mind. Noah went limp under him. Staring down at the man who’d terrorized Grace—hisGrace—Hugh fought the temptation to slam his fist into Noah’s slack face over and over.
“Hugh.” Grace’s voice was shaky but strong, and he turned his head to look at her. She was sitting up, and blood streaked the lower part of her face. It looked like it had come from her nose, and a fresh surge of rage jolted through him. Hugh was starting to turn back to Noah with the intention of destroying the man when Grace spoke again. “Did you see that? I totally nailed him in the junk.”
Hugh’s head snapped around so he could stare at her. Even bleeding and rumpled and scared, she was smiling at him. He forgot about planning Noah’s bloody, violent death. All he wanted to do was hold Grace. Scrambling to his feet, he moved to crouch in front of her. Peripherally, he was aware of Agent Swanson rolling Noah over so she could cuff his hands behind his back, but Hugh’s attention was fixed on Grace.
He cupped her face as gently as if he were holding a baby bird. It looked like the blood had stopped flowing from her nose, but he still frowned. “Never thought I’d wish that I were the kind of tool who carried around a handkerchief.”
Her laugh was short and strangled, but it was still a beautiful sound. Reaching up, she circled her fingers around his wrist. “Never wish that. Snot rags are gross.”
It was his turn to bark out a laugh. Unable to restrain himself anymore, he gathered her against him, not caring how awkward it was with his casted arm. He needed her close. With their bodies pressed together, he could feel the quick strum of her heart, and he wondered if his was beating as quickly. Judging by his post-adrenaline jitters, he would guess that it was.
The bathroom was filling up with agents and mall security. Shankle gave them a swift, narrow-eyed look, as if checking for bullet holes, and then moved to help Swanson with Noah. Despite his resentment that Shankle’s orders had kept him away from Grace when she needed him, Hugh grudgingly appreciated that the FBI agent was giving the two of them time. After seeing her limp form on the floor, Hugh needed to hold Grace, to touch her, to find the reassurance he needed that she was okay.
Her arms wrapped around him, and she clung to him as tightly as he was holding her. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry.” Guilt roared to life inside him. Why hadn’t he fought to stay closer? Why had he listened to Shankle’s order to stay in the van? “I had to pick the lock.”
She pulled back just far enough to look at him. “You’re kidding. You actually used your talent for breaking into women’s bathrooms for good, rather than evil?”
His scowl was mostly put on. “I never use my talent for evil. I’m, like, a poster good guy.”
Instead of laughing, she stroked his cheek. “Yeah, you are. You’re thebestgood guy.”
“And you’re a junk-kicking badass.” His words were thick with satisfaction. “You were so still and limp. I thought…” He had to stop and swallow hard to clear the obstruction in his throat.
Grace gave him a proud grin. “I was totally faking it.”
“I’m impressed.” He was. “Impressed, and proud, and grateful, and so happy you’re okay.” Frowning, he gently swiped at a streak of blood on her chin. “Mostly okay. Did he hit you?”
“Yeah. I ducked the first one, but he got me with the next one.” She looked so disgruntled that it made Hugh want to laugh—and swear and hit Noah a few extra times. “I pretended to be unconscious, and he started dragging me toward the closet, and that’s when you showed up.” Her bravado faltered, and she looked incredibly vulnerable as she met his gaze. “I think he was going to shoot me once I was in there. He muttered something about not getting blood everywhere.”
Rage filled Hugh. Why hadn’t he killed that bastard when he’d had the chance? He saw Grace’s eyes get glossy with tears, and he shoved back his anger, tucking her more closely against his chest. “Bet he regrets it now.”
He was rewarded by a watery chuckle muffled in his shoulder. “Yeah, he does.”
The feel of her filled him with relief and gratitude. “You know I love you, right?” The words spilled out in a rush. He’d almost waited too long to say them. If things had gone wrong, it would’ve been too late. He needed her to know how he felt, because the last few weeks had given him reminder after reminder that life was incredibly fragile.
She went still for a moment, and Hugh held his breath as she raised her head to meet his gaze. “You’d better.”
His laugh was more of a choke. “That’s all I get?”
“Fine.” Her smile shook around the edges, but it was still beautiful. “I love you, too. Even when you’re being annoying.”
He made a scoffing sound, trying to hide the obstruction in his throat. “Please. I’m never annoying.”
Special Agent Shankle laughed. When Grace raised her eyebrows at Hugh in wordless triumph, he frowned.
“He wasn’t laughing at that.”
“Yes. I was,” Shankle corrected him, making Grace smother a giggle.
“Don’t you have something else to do besides eavesdrop?” Hugh grumbled, although he couldn’t work up any true annoyance. After all, Grace loved him. How could he be anything except happy?
Chapter 21
