Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
SHAW
The doorbell rings, and Rita is in the kitchen cooking up some sort of breakfast feast, so I leave Monroe to answer it without making love to her again. Talk about hard as hell. Opening the door unprepared is even worse.
“You son of a…”
Bang!
A raging inferno blazes through my side, and I hit the ground with a loud thud. Stunned, I’m slow to react as the man steps over me and heads upstairs.
To Monroe.
“Shaw!” I hear Rita’s horrified gasp as she rushes over, phone in one hand, gun in the other.
I reach for the weapon while she talks on the phone but struggle to stand. Instead, I holler, “Monroe!” warning her, even though she must have heard the shot.
Home invasion wasn’t something I prepared her for.
“Don’t move,” Rita scolds.
“Help me up,” I demand, ignoring her. The asshole couldn’t aim a gun to save his fucking life. He hit my side, thankfully missing vital organs. But no matter where you’re shot, it’s always shocking. And painful as fucking hell.
“Monroe!” I yell her name again. Hearing no response could mean she’s hiding, or it could mean Alton has her. Either scenario will earn him a bullet.
“Rita!” I bark her name; she looks shell-shocked. “Go to my office. Lock the door. Don’t come out until I sound the all-clear.” She nods and scurries off.
“Alton, you son of a bitch.” I ignore the burning in my side; Monroe needs me. Yelling out should distract him and hopefully keep her safe.
“She’s mine!” the creep shouts back while I slowly walk up the stairs. His voice booms from the hallway leading to the guest bedroom where her things are. At the opposite end of where Monroe would be. A good sign.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I dart a quick look around the corner leading to our room and see Monroe’s head peek out.
Relief eases the constriction in my chest as I wave her back.
Her eyes are wide and terrified, filling with tears as she notices the blood I feel leaking from my side, but she nods and goes back into hiding.
I take a deep breath, knowing my girl is out of harm's way, and concentrate on Alton. Leading with my gun, I stealthily make my way down the hall to the guest room. Approaching the doorway, I can hear the bastard rifling through her belongings, muttering unintelligibly to himself.
“Alton, if you don’t drop your weapon, this only ends one way.” I barely finish speaking when more gunshots ring out, hitting the wall across the hall.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Monroe open the door a bit again. Shaking my head, I wave her back. She’s horrified, and all I want to do is reassure her, but that’s not possible until Alton is stopped, one way or another.
Crouching low, I realize this won’t end peacefully.
“Come on, Alton, drop the gun.” He fires again as expected.
I count to thirty before darting a quick look through the open doorway. He’s facing the bed where he’s scattered Monroe’s clothes.
Whistling to get his attention, I take aim and fire at his gun arm as he spins, not wanting to snuff out the man’s life unnecessarily. The mental ramifications afterward are never easy to deal with, so this is an alternate solution to corral him. Sirens drown out his pained howl as they get closer.
Standing, I grab the leotards lying on the bed and roll Alton to his belly as he bitches and moans. “You shot me!”
“You shot me first, asshole.” Hogtied, I leave him on the floor after grabbing his weapon and nearly get tackled by Monroe as she slams into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist. “Shit,” I hiss from the pain of my wound.
“Sorry,” she mumbles into my chest but doesn’t let go. Can’t say I mind too much. “I can’t believe he shot you.” Her words are tear-filled as the sheriff rushes through the open front door, followed by Draven and Nina.
“Damn, Shaw.” Draven shakes his head, coming up the stairs to help me down.
“He grazed me when I opened the door,” I mutter.
“Grazed, my ass.” He rolls his eyes.
“Will Shaw be alright?” Monroe worriedly asks, following us out to the ambulance I hadn’t realized was here.
Reaching out a hand for her after being helped onto the gurney, I pull her up with me, ignoring the medics’ protests and my own pain. “I’m fine, darlin’. Just a graze.” I narrow my eyes at Draven when he opens his mouth to dispute me.
As the medics inspect my wound, I watch the sheriff bring Alton out in cuffs and escort him to the back of his cruiser, likely waiting for another ambulance.
After the prick's secured, the sheriff strides over to Monroe and me. “A deputy will be along to the hospital in a little bit to take your statements.” I lift my hand slightly in response because I was given something for pain and can barely hold up my head.
Draven walks off with the sheriff, and I watch them until Monroe touches my face, turning me to look at her.
“I love you, Shaw Remington, but if you ever get shot for me again, I’m going to kick you.” Her threat is adorable, but all I can do is nod.