She wrapped her arms around herself, but she nodded. “All right.”
Fuck, he wasn’t trying to scare her, but he also didn’t need anyone except him and the cops to know what he had planned—if they even agreed to let him try.
“I’ll be back.” One-Mile turned for the door.
Brea grabbed his arm, folding one hand in his. “Please be careful.”
Was she saying that because she actually cared or simply because she didn’t want his blood on her conscience?
“The gunman will never know I’m there until I put a bullet in his brain.”
She flinched but grabbed him tighter. “Will you keep me posted? I’ll text you my number.”
She really had no idea who she was dealing with. If she was never going to want him, maybe it was time to scare the hell out of her so she’d give him a wide berth. Because if he didn’t get distance between them, he didn’t know how much longer he could stop himself from tasting the sweet pink bow of her lips. And once he got his mouth on her…
Fuck.
One-Mile leaned into her personal space and braced himself against the doorjamb above her head, glaring down. “I already know it. I know everything about you because I made it my business. I’ll call when there’s something to say.”
She swallowed and glanced up at him nervously. “Thank you.”
He raised a brow. “You can thank me later.”
By staying the hell away.
He left his bedroom and the house, dragging his phone out of his pocket as he launched himself into his Jeep. Time to compartmentalize all this destructive touchy-feely shit and get down to business. Which of his three bosses would listen without losing his head and pave the way for him to get busy?
One-Mile finally settled on Hunter, dialing the former SEAL’s number as he turned down the main drag out of his neighborhood. Logan seemed to think he spoke the same language as his older brother. So far, he and the elder Edgington sibling had circled each other. Now he had to hope the younger Edgington hadn’t been blowing smoke up his ass.
“What do you want, Walker? It’s a Saturday. I’m spending it with my wife and son.”
“Unfortunately, unhinged gunmen with an ax to grind don’t work Monday through Friday. And your golden boy, Bryant, didn’t waste any time playing the hero and offering himself up as the sacrificial lamb.”
“What the…” Hunter sounded blazingly pissed as he swallowed a curse. “Kata, take the baby.” After some rustling, heavy footsteps clapped across the hardwood floors. “That goddamn son of a bitch. How long do we have?”
“Less than two hours before time’s up on the gunman’s demands.”
“And the shit hits the fan. Why the hell did the police clue you and not me?”
“They never said dick to me. Brea asked me to intervene.”
“Fuck.” A hundred questions hovered in his expletive, but to Hunter’s credit, he didn’t ask those now. He just cut to the chase. “You think there’s a kill shot to get?”
“I’m on my way to find out. Can you make a few calls, take care of some red tape for me?”
Hunter hesitated. “I could try, but I know who will succeed.”
One-Mile knew exactly who he meant. “Your dad.”
“Bingo. Everyone respects the hell out of the colonel.”
Since One-Mile was in that camp, too, he totally understood Hunter’s reasoning. “Good thought. I’m heading to the scene. Let me know.”
“I’ll have my dad get in touch with you after he’s reached out and touched the right people. Thank God he knows everyone in this damn town.”
And was at the top of the good ol’ boys’ food chain.
“Thanks.”
“I appreciate you intervening, especially when Brea’s request puts you in an awkward-as-fuck position.”
Did everyone fucking know he had a hard-on for her? “Your point?”
“Logan and I knew Cage in high school. I know you don’t like Cutter much, but…rough childhood. His mom and his brother are good people.”
And Cutter was also everyone’s favorite at EM. “I got it. I’ll take care of it.”
Then he hung up. What more was there to say? He’d been tasked with saving the hero before he slunk back to the dark corners of humanity because no one liked to admit that people like him were a necessary evil.
When he reached the scene, the police had cordoned off all entrances to the strip mall that housed the grocery store. Caleb Edgington had apparently worked fast, because the beat cops keeping the parking lot secure let him through right away.
He didn’t have to wander through the pandemonium to find the person in charge. A short, forty-something balding guy approached him, eyed him up and down, then stuck out his hand. “You must be Walker. I’m Major John Gaines, the precinct commander.”
One-Mile shook his hand. “Tell me what you know.”
“Sure. First, we’re glad you came. Our SWAT unit is very qualified but…”
None with his credentials. “I’m sure they are.”
“You’re a little bit of a celebrity among the ranks. A one-mile kill shot is… Well, I don’t need to tell you how rare that is.”
Fewer than fifteen people in the world had ever actually managed one, but he wasn’t here to discuss that. “Any further contact from Bryant or the gunman? Does he have a name?”
Gaines finally got the picture that he wasn’t up for a trip down memory lane. “No additional communication. The gunman is Richard Schading. He and his wife, Emily, have been married four years. She’s a checker here. Apparently, their relationship has been rocky, and she filed for divorce after he got fired from his last job. She’s pregnant, and Richard is convinced another guy knocked her up. I think he went into the store with a murder-suicide plan. Mr. Bryant talked him out of it.”
“Is the wife free now?” If he could talk to her, she could give him the scoop, especially her husband’s habits and what he might be planning next.
“Not yet, just the others. Schading swears that once we meet his demands, he’ll let her go.”
So he was intending to use
