The Heat Is On

11

BELLA MOVED TO THE front door of the shop, locked it, then looked over the freshly installed window. Remembering the reason for that had a shiver racking her as she flipped the Closed sign. She moved to the iPod dock in the closet and hit the power button, and in the sudden silence, another shiver, this one of dread, raced up her spine. She stepped out of the closet and looked around for the cause.

Everything looked normal.

Then Willow’s face appeared in the front door’s window, and Bella near fell back on her butt in surprise.

“Sorry,” Willow said when Bella had opened the door for her. “Forgot my key and my purse.” She frowned. “I don’t know where my head is.”

“I do. It’s on the shootings, and the fact that we had half our usual customers today.”

Willow sighed. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Her hair was spiked straight up and out today, like Cher in her seventies Oscar run. She was wearing retro derby gear complete with polyester shorts and a green-and-white rugby top. The only thing missing was a pair of skates and the pads. “You’re wearing your mom’s clothes again.”

“Yeah, I love her closet. I’m going to stay there again tonight. There’s an extra couch…”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Hands on hips, Willow’s eyes narrowed as she studied Bella. “You’re eating your short-crust pastry.”

Bella looked down at the pastry in her hands and sighed. “Had so much left over today. And it’s good.”

“It’s great,” Willow corrected. “It’s soft and flaky and perfect. But according to you, it also goes right to your hips.”

“You forgot your purse and keys due to stress. I’m eating due to stress. We’re quite the pair.” Bella sighed again and tossed the pastry into the trash.

“Well, Jesus, if you were going to throw it away…” Willow looked wistfully at the trash can.

“Don’t you dare.” They moved into the kitchen, where Bella gave her a new one from the leftovers bin, and Willow happily bit into it.

Bella shook her head. “I hate that you can eat like this and stay as skinny as a rail.”

Willow grinned and took another pastry. “Good genes.” She cocked her head and her smile faded. “There’s something else wrong. Aw, honey. Is it Sexy Cop?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” She shook it off. “It’s nothing. He was supposed to meet me for lunch and didn’t. No biggie.”

“He’s got an important job. He probably just got held up.”

“Yes. Maybe.” But maybe not. Maybe he’d decided their casual fun was over.

“He doesn’t seem like the sort of man to play with a woman’s feelings,” Willow said quietly. “And anyway, I’ve seen him look at you. He’d never play with you like that. Something came up. He’ll call.”

“Yeah.”

“You keep going down that path,” Willow said, grabbing her purse, “and you’re going to be insane by the end of the day. I’m going to the movies. Trevor’s driving. Come with us?”

“Not today, thanks.”

Willow gave her a fast hug. “You’re just afraid because you’re feeling more than you meant to, because you’re falling for him.”

Bella squeezed her eyes shut. “Maybe.”

“Don’t worry, Bell, I think he means to catch you.”

And then she was gone, out through the dining area and the front door, and with a sigh, Bella locked up. For the tenth time, she pulled out her cell phone.

No missed call.

Fine. He hadn’t called. That was fine.

You’re falling for him. Willow’s words echoed in her head. They were a scary truth. Her scary truth, because she was falling.

But was she the only one? Hard to tell. But if so, that was okay. He’d said casual. It wasn’t his fault that she hadn’t managed to keep it that way. She’d get herself together. She would.

She sagged a little, feeling the ache behind her ribs that showed her up as a big, fancy liar. With a shake of her head, she turned off the lights, grabbed her key and went to push open the back door, but it got stuck on something. She pushed a little harder, and when it moved enough for her to squeeze out, she nearly tripped over-

A body.

He was on his side facing away from her. Dark hair, buff arms, broad shoulders, blood pooling beneath him on the ground-

Oh, God.

This wasn’t just any body, this one was as familiar to her as her own.

With a groan, Jacob shifted, and she stepped over him and dropped to her knees with a shocked sob. “Jacob!” His shirt was light blue, so she could clearly see the hole in his shoulder, and the blood pumping from it. Panic clenched her hard in the gut, and she ripped off her T-shirt, wadding it up to press it to his wound as she whipped out her cell phone and pounded 911.

He rolled to his back, face tight in a grimace as she gave the information to emergency dispatch.

“Goddamn,” he said through his teeth when she was done and pressed harder on the wound. “That hurts.”

She slid a hand beneath his head to move it to her lap, and her fingers came away bloody. “You must have hit your head.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He was staring up at her and blinking rapidly. “Explains why there’s four of you.” He closed his eyes. “Get inside and stay away from the windows.”

“What? I’m not leaving you!”

“Goddammit, Bella. The shooter could still be out here somewhere.”

She lifted her head and looked around, heart pumping so hard she could scarcely breathe. “No one’s out here.”

“Did it go through?”

“What?”

“The bullet. Did it go through?”

She let out a breath and looked him over. Hole in the front. Gently she leaned over him so she could see the back.

God.

God, there was so much blood. “Yes,” she said shakily. “It went straight through.”

“That’s good.” His eyes were a little glazed and fixed on what was right in front of his face-her chest. “Nice bra.”

She made a sound that was a half laugh, half sob, and applied more pressure.

“Oh, shit,” Jacob rasped through his teeth.

“I’m sorry. You’re bleeding so much.”

“Call Ethan. Have him tell Tom his lunch break’s over.”

Again she used her cell. Onlookers were starting to trickle into the parking lot, one of whom brought her a shawl to wrap around herself. Two of the adjacent shop owners were there, too, and several people that Bella didn’t know, all standing a respectful distance back.

She heard sirens. “They’re coming.”

He didn’t move or open his eyes and she gripped him tight. “Jacob!”

“Shh,” Jacob whispered. “He’s sleeping.”

“No. Stay with me,” she said fiercely, leaning down to put her face right in his. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“Bella,” he said softly, sounding pained. He squeezed her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay, then.”

He didn’t say anything more, but she could see his chest rising and falling. Breathing. Breathing was good.

The ambulance pulled into the lot and everything happened in super speed then. She was pulled free of Jacob, who was quickly assessed, his vitals taken and an IV started. She heard the EMT report to the hospital that they had a thirty-two-year-old male with a through-and-through GSW to the shoulder, vitals stable, possible slight concussion.

She never took her eyes off Jacob. He was clearly woozy, but he’d been able to give his name, age, the time and place. That had to be good, she told herself.

Then he was loaded up.

She tried to go with him, but another EMT detained her, gaze running over her gently as he assessed her to make sure the blood all over her wasn’t hers. By the time it was determined she was fine, the ambulance with Jacob had left.

Fine. She knew just where the hospital was, since on her first week in Santa Rey she’d cut her finger with her paring knife and had required three stitches. She needed a shirt anyway, and she had to lock up, and she had to-

“Bella.”

She turned and found a grim-looking Ethan, and nearly lost it at the familiar face.

Right. She had to talk to the police.

Yet again.

“Oh, Christ,” he said when he got a good look at her. “Were you hit?”

“No, it’s Jacob’s blood.”

He backed her into the kitchen, keeping a tight grip on her until she sat in a chair. Without a word, he went to the refrigerator and got her a bottle of water. “Drink,” he said, and went to the sink to wet a towel.

“Someone shot him,” she said softly.

“I know.” Gently he pulled the shawl off her, then ran the towel over her arms. He rinsed it out, then handed it back to her, presumably so that she could do her own torso. “What did you see?” he asked.

“Nothing. I saw nothing. I got a sort of hinky feeling, and I shrugged it off.” She shook her head. “Willow came back for her purse-”

“Willow was here?”

“Yes, briefly. After she left, I came to the back door here to leave, and nearly tripped over him. He was just lying there.” Her hand was shaking so badly she couldn’t drink. “And I’m shaking. I never shake.”

He shrugged out of his shirt and wrapped it around her. “Are you going to take me to the station again?” she asked him.

“I’m not a complete asshole. I’m going to wait for you to collect yourself, then I’m going to drive you to the hospital to see him.”

She lifted her head and met his gaze. “You’re worried about him, too.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Yeah.”

She stood up. “Consider me collected.”

He looked her over as if to make his own assessment, then he reached for her hand and took her to his car.