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“Dr. Dil? What are you doing on my floor? Is it time for my follow-up already?” Griffin asked, oblivious to the chaos.

Nick dove for the doctor, who, despite the knife through his right hand and the portrait around his neck like a collar, was crawling for the exit.

Glass shattered all over the house, and Nick heard a loudwhumpthat sounded a lot like the front door falling off its hinges. “Police! Nobody move!” someone shouted as eight cops, armed to the teeth, stormed into the room.

“You couldn’t have come in, like, a minute earlier?” Nick complained to Weber as he wrestled the surgeon’s hands behind his back.

Weber, in full tactical gear, slapped the cuffs on Byron. “We lost sight of him when he went around the side of the house. We thought we’d have him in the backyard, but the son of a bitch shimmied up a drainpipe to the second floor, and your wire kept cutting out.”

“Parkour,” Byron groaned into the carpet.

“I can’t believe you missed my whodunit PowerPoint,” Nick said, sitting back on his haunches and looking for Riley.

He spotted her in Gentry’s kitchen, dumping ice into a food storage bag. She had his gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans, the bandage still on her forehead, and drywall dust mixed with sweat in her hair. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. His heart kicked up another notch as he headed for her.

“Thorn.”

She looked up at him, her pretty brown eyes relieved and maybe even a little amused. “Santiago.”

He had so much he wanted to say to her, but all the words just got tangled up in his throat. “What’s the ice for?”

“Your hand.”

He looked down at his already bruising knuckles, then back at Ingram, who was still unconscious on the floor.

“Thanks,” he said as she wrapped the bag in a dish towel with Griffin’s face on it. “We need to talk.”

“If this is about the damage to your parents’ plumbing, I already called your cousin,” Riley said.

He shook his head. “Not about plumbing.”

“Santiago,” Weber called.

“In a minute,” Nick said without looking away from Riley.

“Everybody freeze! Santiago Investigations is taking over this crime scene,” Mrs. Penny bellowed through her bullhorn as she tromped into the room with Gabe and Bella behind her.

“I thought you hid that from her?” Riley said as Nick hooked a finger through her belt loop and tugged her closer.

“I’ll get a better hiding place. Pay attention to me.”

“Oh no! Griffy! Why is that man wearing your portrait?” Bella crooned behind them.

“Marry me,” Nick said to Riley.

The bag of ice fell to the floor. She looked up at him with wide-eyed shock. “I’m sorry. My ears are ringing from all the gunfire and screaming. Could you repeat that?”

“Marry me,” he repeated earnestly.

“Did you get hit in the head when I shot up the ceiling?”

“I don’t have head trauma, and I’m not overreacting to yet another criminal fiasco. I want you as my wife. My partner. You’re it for me. And I know I should have found a better way to do this, like with champagne and flowers and maybe a fucking violin. But this is us. Messy. Complicated. Slightly injured. Standing in the middle of yet another crime scene together after saving the day. So say yes. Marry me.”

She stood motionless, barely breathing, and Nick started to sweat.

Then he remembered the deal-sealer. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the ring. Riley gaped at him as if he’d just produced a mackerel from his jeans. But instead of a live fish, it was a sparkly-as-fuck cushion-cut diamond surrounded by other smaller but equally shiny diamonds.

She blew out a breath and put a hand to her heart. “That’s an engagement ring, and we’re broke.”