Chapter 8
EIGHT
“Gun!”
Instinctively, Piper’s body moved before her brain fully registered Jackson’s warning. She hit the floor in a heap as glass shattered behind her. A thud slammed into the back of her chair. She gasped, realizing the bullet would’ve hit her if she’d delayed moving. Shouting from inside the sheriff’s department was followed by more gunfire.
Training and self-preservation took over as Piper belly-crawled away from the shooter. Bullets slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the conference room. Like her, Jackson was on the floor. He held his firearm in one hand, but under a barrage of gunfire, there was no chance to use it. Nor was there any real protection. The tables were too heavy to tilt and the chairs were far too small to hide anyone effectively.
The barely leashed worry etched on Jackson’ s face squeezed her chest tight as they took cover in the corner of the room. He scanned her quickly. “You hit?”
“No.” She pulled her own firearm. “You?”
“No.”
Shouts came from outside but were too far away to make out the words clearly. “How many?”
“One shooter.” Jackson raised his head and then ducked back down. “Deputies have him surrounded. We just have to hang tight while they secure him.”
She gave a sharp nod. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, heightening her senses. Although her focus was on the shattered window and the threat outside on the sidewalk, she was all too aware of Jackson. Their bodies were pressed against one another, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Partners. Working together to help one another.
Footsteps whispered on the sidewalk beyond the large window. Piper’s pulse jumped. She adjusted the hold on her gun and held her breath.
“Piper? Jackson?”
Derek. She breathed out a sigh of relief. “We’re here.”
“It’s clear.” Derek stepped through the broken window, glass crunching under his boots. Concern furrowed his brow. “Either of you hit? Need an ambulance?”
“We’re okay.” Jackson rose from the floor and held out a hand for Piper.
She slid her palm into his. His grip was gentle, his skin warm. A lightning bolt of attraction shot through her, intensified by the near-death experience she’d just been through. Her pulse jumped yet again. It beat against her ribs so hard she feared Jackson could hear it.
Derek shouted orders to his deputies outside. Piper barely registered them. She was on her feet, knew she should release Jackson’s hand, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Their gazes met. Held. The sea-green of his eyes captivated her. It struck Piper in that moment just how much she’d missed him. His steady presence, his protection. His friendship.
Jackson cleared his throat and released her hand, stepping away. His gaze skittered from hers.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. What was she doing? Piper mentally berated herself for letting the moment get the best of her. At one time, Jackson might have loved her, but that was all over. She’d walked away from him. From them. Self-preservation demanded it, but she’d hurt him all the same.
There was no turning back, and Piper had no right to make their working relationship uncomfortable.
She turned toward the broken window. Deputies crowded the sidewalk. Piper strained to see through the press of bodies, but it was impossible. “What happened? Who is the shooter?”
“I didn’t recognize him.” Jackson bent and retrieved his cowboy hat from the floor. His jaw tightened. “But whoever he was, he aimed straight for you.”
Piper reared back. “Me?” She remembered the bullet hitting the back of the chair she’d been sitting in. Her gaze shot once again to the mass of deputies. The crowd parted, and the shooter came into view. She gasped. “That’s Marcus Reed.”
“You know him?”
She nodded. “He lives in my old neighborhood. Marcus suffers from some kind of mental illness and often self-medicates with illegal drug use.” Piper crossed the room and stepped over the window’s low threshold to join Derek on the sidewalk. Marcus had his hands cuffed behind his back and was alternating between muttering under his breath and shouting nonsense at the deputies. “How on earth did Marcus get a gun? No reputable dealer would sell to him with his past drug convictions.”
“I don’t know.” Derek’s expression was stony. “Marcus goes through the trash from time to time. He may have found it. Or someone gave it to him.”
It made sense. Criminals discarded their guns in dozens of ways, including simply throwing them in a dumpster.
Jackson joined them. “He fired directly at Piper.”
Derek frowned. “He did?”
“I doubt he realized what he was doing.” Piper jutted her chin toward Marcus, who was being hauled around the corner to the main doors of the building. His clothes were riddled with holes, and it didn’t look like he’d showered in a while. “Look at him. He’s high and clearly not in his right mind. Marcus has no specific reason to target me.”
Derek nodded. “I’ll interview him to be sure. Not that I think anything he says will make sense, but…” He shrugged. “I’ll try anyway. ”
Jackson’s worried expression didn’t ease. Piper tilted her head. “What are you thinking?”
He breathed out. “I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s weird that yesterday you interrupted a murder and then today you were nearly shot. I suppose it could be a coincidence… but it’s a strange one.”
It was one of the many reasons a relationship with Jackson would never work out. She couldn’t drag him into all of her problems. It wasn’t fair. She would do well to remember that next time sentimentality and raw emotion attempted to overtake her better judgment.
Derek was quiet, his gaze sweeping across the wrecked conference room and then lingered on the chair with the bullet lodged in the back of it. Piper knew that look well. Her boss was considering Jackson’s observation, taking it in and weighing it against the evidence. From the creased furrow of his brow, he was concerned. “I agree with Jackson. It’s a weird coincidence. There could be nothing to it, but I want y’all to use extra care when working the murder case.”
Piper eyed the two men. “Seriously? Marcus couldn’t have killed Elena. He doesn’t have the ability to plan such a well-executed murder.”
“I agree with that.” Jackson nodded.
“So what are you suggesting? That Elena’s killer gave a gun to Marcus and convinced him to shoot me? That’s… farfetched. Besides, what’s the point? I didn’t see anything on the night Elena was killed.”
His mouth flattened into a thin line. “The killer doesn’t know that.”