HOSTAGE SITUATION

When armed robbers strike her bank, hostage negotiator Skyler Brennan’s life is on the line. Rescue comes from the last person she thought she could count on—the ex-boyfriend who chose his job over their relationship. FBI agent Logan Hunter knows how much is resting on this case. The promotion of his dreams…and the safety of the woman he’s never been able to forget. But when an unexpected twist in the case pulls Logan in two separate directions, he’ll have to make an impossible choice. Will he manage to have it all by Christmas—a career and love—or will he lose them both?

First Responders: Brave men and women alert and ready for danger and love.

Logan searched ahead for an escape and spotted an alley on the left.

He quickly changed lanes. The car slid wildly on the wet pavement for a moment. He saw Skyler put her hand on the dash to brace herself for another impact. Wouldn’t happen. Not if he had anything to say about it. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her again.

“Hold on tighter,” he warned. “We’re turning left into an alley ahead.”

“At this speed? In front of all this traffic?” Anxiety lifted her voice higher.

“I can do it. You could, too. We’re both trained for this very thing, but Clyde isn’t. He’ll never make the turn.” Logan squeezed her hand. “You trust me?”

“I trust you to keep me safe.”

He heard the hesitation in her tone. Likely because she didn’t trust him in any other area of life, not because she didn’t believe he could handle this maneuver. Not something he could focus on now and safely evade the Jeep on their tail.

He let go of her hand and gripped the wheel. “Here we go.”

SUSAN SLEEMAN

grew up in a small Wisconsin town, where she spent her summers reading Nancy Drew and developing a love of mystery and suspense books. Today she channels this enthusiasm into hosting the popular internet website www.thesuspensezone.com and writing romantic suspense and mystery novels.

Much to her husband’s chagrin, Susan loves to look at everyday situations and turn them into murder-and-mayhem scenarios for future novels. If you’ve met Susan, she has probably figured out a plausible way to kill you and get away with it.

Susan currently lives in Oregon, but has had the pleasure of living in nine states. Her husband is a church music director and they have two beautiful daughters, a very special son-in-law and an adorable grandson. To learn more about Susan, please visit www.susansleeman.com.

Silent Night Standoff

Susan Sleeman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.

I do not give to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

—John 14:27

For my family who is always there for me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The gun came out of nowhere.

A hard kick of adrenaline stole Skyler’s breath. She raised her hands and backed away, the urge to reach for her own weapon nearly overpowering her good sense.

“Everyone on the floor now!” the bank robber screamed.

Skinny with spiked hair, his eyes were glassy, his body jittery. Fidgety. He was coming down from some drug. Not a good thing. Drugs and money were the top causes of violence, and he had both of them spurring him on. Making him unpredictable.

Add a loaded weapon and Skyler had a dangerous combination staring her down.

She needed to tread lightly. Forget about the gun in her purse for now. Do as he commanded.

She pulled in a few cleansing breaths and helped a pregnant woman settle on the cold tile floor of the Portland Community Bank, then took a seat with the other terrified customers.

She’d messed up. Big-time. Missed seeing the team dubbed by the media as a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, but she hadn’t been paying attention.

She wasn’t on duty. She’d just stopped in to cash a check for her upcoming Christmas party for homeless families. A worthy cause, for sure, but she was a deputy sheriff and a hostage negotiator on the county’s First Response Squad, for crying out loud. She was trained to read people, and she’d failed Cop 101.

Her training officer’s voice rang in her head. Always know your surroundings. Always be alert and ready for anything. Serve and protect the innocent.

Protect, Skyler! How can you protect if you don’t know what’s going on?

Focus. Now. Before it’s too late and someone gets hurt.

She watched Bonnie, a thin woman with dead eyes, calmly herd three customers from the teller windows to sit nearby. She shot across the room to retrieve the balding bank manager. That left three tellers standing behind the counter, all gaping at Clyde, his gun trained on them.

“My baby.” The pregnant woman cradled her swollen belly as her terrified gaze flitted around the space. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“It’s okay,” Skyler whispered. “You and your baby will be fine. Just fine.”

“You don’t know that.” Panic took her voice high.

Hoping to redirect the woman’s thoughts before one of the robbers singled them out, Skyler asked, “What’s your name?”

“Faith.”

“Well, Faith, I do know we all have a much better chance of avoiding injury if we keep calm and do everything we’re told.”

“No talking!” Clyde spun on them and locked gazes with Skyler.

For the first time since they’d drawn their weapons, Skyler doubted her abilities. Doubted she’d be able to end this situation without anyone getting hurt. Not without her team. On duty, she’d have a sniper at the ready. Medical support waiting. A trained supervisor calling the shots as he did for all crisis situations in the county.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” Faith struggled to stand. Skyler stilled her as Bonnie shot across the room toward them.

Bonnie bent low, her scraggly blond hair falling over her face. She jabbed her gun at Faith’s chest. “Are you deaf, lady? He said no talking.”

“Easy,” Skyler said, the word slipping out before she thought better of it.

Bonnie pawed her hair from her eyes and glared in reply. Skyler should be afraid, but her anger fired hotter, blotting out her fear. Faith didn’t deserve to be frightened like this. The terror would live with her—with everyone in the room—for the rest of their lives.

Skyler needed to do everything she could to minimize their trauma. That meant holding her anger in check so she was ready to act if she could do so safely.

“Man the door, Bonnie,” Clyde said, his focus returning to the tellers.

Bonnie kept narrowed eyes fixed on Faith until she reached the door and turned her back.

Perfect. Just the distraction Skyler needed.

She shifted her body for privacy, opened the message screen on her phone and typed, 211 bank 23rd & Glisan. Bonnie and Clyde. 2 Glock 9mm. She sent the message to squad leader, Jake Marsh, then dialed his number and lowered her in-call volume to zero to keep the robbers from hearing Jake answer.

When she saw that the call had connected and knew he was on the line, she switched to speaker so he could listen in. She palmed her phone—microphone facing out—and turned back to wait for her team to arrive.

“Put all of your cash in the bag.” Clyde unfolded a worn duffel bag and tossed it onto the counter in front of the first teller.

“Move it along, Clyde,” Bonnie yelled from her post at the front door. “All we need is for a customer to show up and call the cops.”

Clyde slid over to the next teller. “Your turn. Make it quick.”

Skyler sat quietly, praying her squad arrived soon to set up their command center and get everyone out before the situation turned ugly.

Time ticked by.

Slowly. Painfully. A minute feeling like an hour.

The soothing strains of “Silent Night” played from the speakers, but nothing was calm or bright in this room. Just the opposite.

Skyler was aware of every breath she took. Of the perspiration sliding down her back. Of her purse lying against her leg, the gun inside. The change in Faith’s breathing and the face of an elderly man wearing a tattered suit reddening like a ripe tomato.

Why did they have to have a heat wave in December of all times? The seventy-plus afternoon temps made it seem more like an Oregon summer. Mix that with the fear pulsing around them and the space felt like a muggy, breath-stealing jungle. A situation that could cause panic.

“People are hot and looking like they might pass out,” Skyler said to Clyde. “Would it be okay if they took off their coats or sweaters?”

“Not happening.” He didn’t even bother to look at the group.

“I’m really worried about them.” Skyler grabbed a brochure from a rack and fanned Faith. “Especially Faith here. Her pregnancy makes her much hotter than the rest of us.”

Bonnie spun. “Another word out of you, and I’m coming over there to shut you up,” she shouted, her face tightening in anger.

Skyler could see Bonnie was starting to lose it, so Skyler clamped her mouth shut while continuing to fan Faith. When a police siren sounded nearby, Skyler held her breath, fearing that her worst nightmare was coming true. It was protocol not to run the siren and take cover out of view when responding to a robbery. The procedure kept robbers from panicking and causing a deadly hostage situation.

Please let it be a simple traffic stop. Not a rookie flying high with adrenaline and failing to follow procedures.

The whoop, whoop, whoop of the siren wound closer, an eerie warning of problems to come. The wail stopped just outside.

No. The officer was responding to the robbery.

“Cops!” Panic flooded Bonnie’s face as she ran across the room and tugged on Clyde’s arm. “We need to get out of here now.”

Clyde jerked his arm free and jumped onto the counter. He shoved the gun into the nearest teller’s forehead. Without a siren, Bonnie and Clyde would’ve left the bank, giving waiting officers the chance to arrest them. Now, combine their panic with drugs that were known to cause paranoid psychosis, and Skyler faced a full-blown crisis.

Clyde got in the teller’s face. “You press the panic button?”

“No.” Her terrified voice cut to Skyler’s core.

“Then who did?” He stepped along the counter, his sloppy tennis shoes slapping on the Formica as he pointed his gun at the male teller. “You?”

He shook his head, his eyes cutting around the space as if searching for a way out.

“How about you?” Clyde waved his gun at the last teller.

“N-no.”

“One of you had to or the cops wouldn’t be here this fast. I’m going to start shooting you one by one until you tell me who sounded the alarm.”

“No, Clyde,” Bonnie begged. “Let’s get out of here while we can.”

“The cops have to get organized, and this won’t take long.” Clyde lowered his finger to the trigger guard and sneered down at the tellers. “Who’s first?”

The female tellers started sobbing. The male’s face paled. Skyler couldn’t let them pay for her actions.

“Stop!” She came to her feet.

Clyde whipped around. He pointed his weapon at Skyler’s heart, but she didn’t back away.

“It was me. I texted a cop friend of mine,” she said, purposely not mentioning she, too, was a deputy. She held her breath as she waited for him to fire.

He jumped from the counter and marched across the room. She was hyperaware of every second passing while he advanced on her. His baggy jeans whispering. The thump, thump, thump of his shoes. His body odor and foul breath.

Inches away, he pressed the gun into her mouth and held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

She resisted gagging on the cold steel and handed over her phone. The acrid smell of burned carbon filled her nostrils. He’d fired this gun before. Maybe it was the same gun used to kill two hostages in California.

Please, God, don’t let his finger slip.

He turned his attention to the phone and woke up the screen. She knew once he discovered her ongoing call to Jake, he’d squeeze the trigger, ending her life. In all her negotiations, she’d never been this close to death. Sweat rolled down her back and beaded above her lip.

“Clyde, c’mon,” Bonnie said. “We stay here any longer and the place will be swarming with cops.”

Yes, Clyde, run. Now. Fast. Down the street and into the arms of my team.

He stared at Skyler’s phone and didn’t respond.

Please, God, don’t let this be the end.

A sick smile spread across Clyde’s thin lips, revealing teeth rotted from a meth addiction and confirming her suspicions of drug use. She braced herself for his finger curling on the metal. The report of gunfire. The weapon jerking in her mouth. Death taking hold.

“Jake, huh,” he said, his sneer widening. “You didn’t just text him—you called him, too.” He lifted the phone to his mouth. “Well, Jake.” He jiggled the gun, and Skyler’s heart threatened to stop beating. “Sorry you hurried on over here. You cost this pretty little lady her life.”

His finger slid to the trigger. “Say buh-bye to Jake, missy. It’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”

* * *

Adrenaline spurring him on, FBI Agent Logan Hunter approached the police barricade outside the bank robbery in progress. He’d caught the perfect break. He’d just gotten into town, when the call came in about Bonnie and Clyde. His team was en route to the standoff, but as the case agent tasked with bringing in the robbers, Logan was in the right place at a critical moment. True, he still had to convince the local authorities to let him in on the action, but that was a piece of cake.

He paused to take in the scene and plan his approach. He’d been briefed on the unique First Response Squad—a division of the county sheriff’s department—on the way over. He spotted the man who was clearly their commander, Lieutenant Jake Marsh, standing outside their large white command truck. He was talking to the team’s sniper, who was unzipping a rifle case. Both were dressed in the team uniform of black tactical pants and polo shirts, but the sniper added a tactical vest and loaded it with extra ammo.

Marsh, feet planted wide, stood calmly, his focus intense. The sniper was jumpy, his foot tapping on the concrete. As Logan climbed over the barricade, the sniper took off across the street to get into position for a kill shot should it become necessary. Marsh stepped to another team member settling a small orange case on a small robot. Likely a negotiator—an additional negotiator, since Logan had heard that another one was already in the building. The man didn’t rush, but moved with purpose and double-checked each step. Obviously not his first hostage standoff.

The case held a phone connected by a long cable to the command truck and would provide direct communications to the robbers. If the team could get them to take the phone. That was a big if as they wouldn’t need a throw phone if the robbers had answered the bank phone or kept in touch on the inside negotiator’s cell.

As Logan approached, he searched for the bomb expert and the EMT who rounded out the team of six. He found neither and assumed they were in the truck. He headed straight for Marsh.

Marsh looked up, his eyes narrowing.

Logan flashed his badge. “I hear you have a team member inside.”

Marsh’s brows shot toward his thick black hair. “This is your concern, why?”

“Bank robbery.” Logan knew his response was lame, but the bureau’s jurisdiction over bank robberies was his only way into the action. He hoped Marsh played nice and let him participate in the negotiations.

“The investigation is all yours.” Marsh made strong eye contact. “After my team resolves the standoff. Until then, you stand down.”

The lieutenant’s rebuff should have angered Logan. Instead, he respected the guy for standing up to an agent. But Logan had no intention of sitting back. Of letting the locals do their thing when his future promotion at the FBI depended on him arresting Bonnie and Clyde. A promotion that should win him the first hint of respect in his demanding father’s eyes.

“I’m not asking to take charge of the standoff,” Logan said. “But our agency has been tailing this pair for months now. My information could be invaluable in your efforts here.”

“Fine,” Marsh said. “Speak only when asked and you can stay.”

Right. Real team player.

Schooling himself not to get mad, Logan followed Marsh to the mobile command center. The negotiator climbed the stairs after Marsh and Logan trailed them onboard the state-of-the-art truck.

“Everybody,” March called out as he stepped to a communications suite holding three monitors, “the suit is Special Agent Hunter. He’s heading up the bureau’s investigation into Bonnie and Clyde.”

Marsh snapped on a headset, then clamped a hand on the shoulder of a scrawny young man who sat behind a computer watching a live feed of the bank’s exterior from the truck’s rooftop camera.

“Where’re we at, Darryl?” Marsh asked.

Darryl didn’t look up from his keyboard. “Should be tapped into the bank security feed in a few seconds.”

As Marsh stared over Darryl’s shoulder, Logan quickly assessed the team. The negotiator had stopped next to a control station for deploying robots, where a muscle-bound guy sat tapping his foot. The bombs guy, Logan suspected. A woman he assumed was the EMT checked supplies in the medical bay that formed the back of the truck. Everyone was somber and intense.

“Okay, people.” Marsh turned to the group as he glanced at his watch. “We’re hitting the ten-minute mark since the call came in. Every second brings us closer to the outcome we’re hoping to avoid. Based on the robbers’ prior behavior, there’s a good chance of casualties here. Brady’s in place and ready to take the shot if necessary.”

The sense of fear for their team member in the hands of two unpredictable and armed robbers hung in the air, and the mood darkened even more.

“We’re in,” Darryl announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “Let me dial in on the action.” He clicked a few keys. Suddenly the screens lit with live footage from the bank’s interior.

Logan focused on the monitor. Clyde flashed onto the screen, holding the negotiator at gunpoint. Logan’s mouth went dry, and his pulse skipped a beat.

“Skyler? The negotiator inside is Skyler Brennan?” His strangled cry brought all eyes toward him.

“You know Skyler?”

Know her? He’d dated her for a year and had nearly let himself forget his goals and fall in love with her.

“You’re her suit?” the EMT asked. “The one who dumped her?”

Logan didn’t know how to answer, so he said nothing.

“Darcie?” Marsh asked.

“He dated Skyler before she joined the squad. Chose his career over her and moved away for the job. Guess he’s back now.” Darcie’s acerbic tone conveyed what she thought of him.

She kept watching him, so he turned his attention back to the screen. As he focused on Skyler’s brave face, his pulse beat triple time. She looked the same. Short, curvy with red hair. She had a sweet girl-next-door face devoid of any makeup. Her hair was currently secured in two small pigtails that gave her a pixie look.

Vulnerable. The word shot into his brain as a chill iced him over. She’d been training for a position like this when he’d met her, but as a woman in a largely male field, and with only three years as a detective under her belt, he never really thought she’d get the job. Or maybe the real issue was he’d avoided thinking about the danger a negotiator’s job involved to keep his fears at bay.

She didn’t act afraid. She appeared calm and in control, her attention fixed on Clyde, who had his gun sighted on her.

It seemed as if the room collectively drew in, then held a breath, waiting for their sniper to take Clyde out. No response. No crack of a rifle disturbing the peace.

“Can’t you people do something?” Logan asked, surprised that his voice was as panicked as a scared little girl. “Clyde’s not averse to killing.”

Marsh eyed him. “Skyler knows to give us a signal if she’s in danger.”

Or not. “She’s not a negotiator now. She’s a hostage just like the others. She might have sound training, but the stress she’s under means she’s not 100 percent in there.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Marsh said calmly. “If I think lives are in danger, I won’t wait for Skyler’s signal. I’ll give the go-ahead for Brady to fire.”

Logan appreciated Marsh’s calm approach and his willingness to step in if Skyler faltered, but it did nothing to relieve Logan’s helpless feeling. He wanted to control the team. Make them act when seeing one of their own in danger didn’t seem to faze them.

The atmosphere was tense, the space closing in on him, the air disappearing, and they just stood. Calmly. Watching it happen. A necessary trait for a squad called to respond to all sorts of emergencies, but Logan wouldn’t—couldn’t—do the same thing.

Not now. Not when Skyler’s life was on the line.

TWO

Skyler ignored Clyde’s bruising grip on her arm as he dragged her across the space and out of view of the others. He released her arm, and she sagged to the floor.

“Are you sure about this?” Bonnie yelled from the other side of the room where she continued to guard hostages.

“Positive.” Clyde glared at Skyler. “We’re better off with her alive. For now, anyway. She’s friends with the cops. We can use her connections to get out of here.” He grabbed her purse and started pawing through it.

Praising God for the reprieve, Skyler gulped in deep breaths, but the sun’s warm rays beating through the window ratcheted up the tension already sizzling through the room, making it hard to breathe. To think. To act. For her and the robbers. Especially Bonnie. She was losing it, barking orders at the other hostages, her voice high and shrill. With every second that passed, she behaved more erratically and was clearly heading for a meltdown.

“Oh, yeah! Better than I thought.” Clyde pulled his hand out and held up her deputy’s shield and gun for Bonnie to see. “She’s one of them. Her name’s Skyler Brennan. Dep-u-tee Skyler Brennan.”

Bonnie shot across the room, her gaze darting about, her expression that of a trapped animal. She stopped next to Clyde where they could keep an eye on Skyler and the other hostages at the same time.

“I don’t like this, Marty,” Bonnie whispered loudly enough for Skyler to hear.

Marty? His name’s Marty?

“Relax, Nicole,” Marty whispered back, though he danced on the balls of the feet, proving he wasn’t the least bit relaxed himself.

Good. They didn’t think Skyler could hear them. Now she knew both of their names. Not that she’d use them now. It would spook them more. But if they somehow managed to evade capture and Skyler got out of there alive, detectives would have a solid lead to go on.

“Brennan’s our ticket out of here,” Marty continued, louder now. “They’ll never try to hurt us with her as our hostage.”

Ha! Shows what they know. If Skyler gave FRS sniper Brady Owens the signal, he would fire. Didn’t matter if she was threatened. Didn’t matter if she might die in the process. He was trained to shoot the moment she tugged on her earlobe. Jake was the only person who could override the signal.

“So let’s get on with it, then.” Nicole turned to go back to her post.

Skyler couldn’t let Nicole walk away and miss this opportunity to encourage their surrender. “There’s another solution,” Skyler offered calmly.

Nicole snorted. “Like we’d listen to you.”

Skyler infused her tone with sincerity. “Despite what you think, I care about your safety and don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“We won’t,” Nicole fired back. “Not with you as our shield.”

“See, there’s where you’re wrong. I can’t protect both of you from all sides. You’ve always gotta worry about a bullet from some rogue cop trying to make a name for himself by bringing in Bonnie and Clyde. Or even a panicked rookie. Surrendering right now is the only way to guarantee you won’t get hurt.”

Nicole clapped her hands over her ears. “Shut up. Just shut up already.” She scrunched her eyes closed for a long moment, then opened them and lowered her hands. “C’mon, Clyde. We gotta move before the cops get better organized.”

“Start Brennan heading to the back door. I’ll get the bag.” He jogged to the counter.

Nicole raised her weapon and stepped forward. “Over there, Brennan. Next to preggers.”

Skyler didn’t think Nicole really planned to shoot her, but as time passed, she’d become shaky and sweaty. Likely her drugs were wearing off. With the bank surrounded by law enforcement, she was desperate. Unstable. Skyler had best do as asked.

“It’s not too late to surrender,” Skyler suggested as she started to rise. “I’ll make sure you get a fair hearing.”

“Ha!” Nicole’s eyes flashed in anger. “I’m not going to jail. Not when we have you. We’ll head out the back just like L.A.”

Skyler remembered hearing about L.A., where the hostages were killed in a shoot-out with the police. “That didn’t end so well.”

“We came out just fine. Didn’t we, Bonnie?” Marty winked at Nicole.

She nodded. “And we will again. It’s better than waiting here for your buddies to storm the bank.”

“Okay.” Marty hefted the bag onto his shoulder. “Let’s do it.”

Skyler needed to try one more time to stop them. “Don’t do this. Listen to me. If you surrender now, I can guarantee you won’t be shot, but in the alley I—”

“Shut up!” Nicole screamed, her eyes wide as she charged at Skyler. “We know what we’re doing. I’ve had about enough of your double-talk. We don’t need your help. Just.” She raised her gun and poked the barrel into Skyler’s forehead, and she could almost smell Nicole’s desperation. “Shut.” She moved closer. “Up.”

She’d lost control. Skyler shot a quick look at Marty, hoping for his help in calming Nicole.

A gunshot split the quiet. The window shattered. Glass exploded through the air.

The gun jerked from Skyler’s head. She turned her gaze back to Nicole, but heard a loud thump even before she saw Nicole lying on the floor, a fatal gunshot wound to her head. Brady.

“No!” Marty screamed. “Nicole!” He dropped the bag and raced to Nicole. He checked her pulse though there was no way she could’ve survived.

Jake must’ve thought Nicole planned to kill her and given Brady the order to take the shot. It was an order he rarely gave, and one that haunted him every time.

“This is your fault.” Marty glared at Skyler. “You did this. You killed her. If you hadn’t made that call...” His eyes were wild now. Crazy and panicked. Breathing hard, his gaze darted around the space. He jumped to his feet, grabbed Skyler’s hair and dragged them both out of sniper range.

At the teller window, he released her and snatched her phone from the counter. “Let’s see what your buddy Jake thinks about this.”

As he fumbled with her phone, Skyler checked on the hostages. Red and perspiring, Faith fanned her face. The others seemed too stunned to move. At least they were spared seeing Nicole’s body.

“Big mistake. Big, big mistake,” Marty yelled into the phone. “You have three minutes to clear the alley of cops. You got it? Or I start killing the hostages one by one.”

Sharp gasps and sobs came from the group.

“C’mon, Marty—talk to me,” Jake said calmly over the phone’s speaker. “We can work this out.”

“It’s too late for working anything out. In three—no, make that two minutes and forty-five seconds—I’m heading out the back door with your girl, Brennan. I want all barricades removed. If I see an officer or even smell one of you anywhere near the alley, she will die instantly. You got that? Instantly.” He hung up before Jake could pass the phone to Archer to begin negotiations as protocol dictated.

Marty looked at Faith. “Get the bag.”

“I c-can’t. Please. My baby.”

“Now!” he screamed.

“You can do it, Faith,” Skyler encouraged.

Sobbing, Faith struggled to her feet and picked up the bag. Skyler wanted to offer to take it, but Marty had clearly reached the end of his rope. Any word from her might set him off. If they were in sniper range and she was in a position to signal Brady, she’d be tugging her ear, but Marty knew to stay back. He took the bag from Faith and harnessed it across his chest.

“You first,” he said to Faith. “Get in front of me.”

Faith complied, and Marty stepped behind Skyler. He shoved her toward Faith, but Skyler held her ground. If Marty got them outside, she feared they could be killed just like the hostages in the L.A. standoff.

“Fine, stand there.” He jabbed the gun in the back of her head. “It’s no skin off my nose. I have plenty of other hostages to choose from. I’m more than happy to make you pay for Nicole’s death right here, right now. Or you can make yourself useful and buy a few hours before I pull the trigger. Your choice, but either way, Dep-u-tee, you’re going to die today.”

* * *

In the alley behind the bank, Logan could still hear the crack of the gunshot. Feel his stomach cramping as the blast reverberated through the air. He wanted to charge toward the threat to see if Skyler was okay. Instead, he’d moved into the shadows in case Bonnie or Clyde came out the back door as they’d done in L.A.

Clearly, the officers stationed at the mouth of the alley didn’t possess this bit of intel. If they did, they’d insist on joining Logan. He wouldn’t volunteer it, either. Not when one of them might be the rookie who’d escalated the standoff. Logan couldn’t risk Skyler’s life. He was better off handling the takedown alone. If the robbers exited with Skyler or another hostage, Logan could save the hostage and arrest Bonnie and Clyde, thus securing his promotion. A win-win for everyone.

The cops suddenly sprang into action, putting Logan on full alert. They shot a quick look down the alley then disappeared from view. It was odd that they’d taken off, but maybe the gunshot meant the standoff was over. Or they were moving to a more strategic location. Logan wasn’t going anywhere until he was certain Bonnie and Clyde weren’t walking out this door.

He waited, gun at the ready, listening for any sound. With the usual traffic for this area cordoned off, it was eerily quiet. Time slowed to a trickle, the only sound the beat of Logan’s heart thrumming in his ears. As he was ready to step out and reevaluate, a wailing alarm sounded from the back door’s emergency exit bar.

He expected legions of cops to race down the alley, but the only movement he saw was the door slowly swinging open. A pregnant woman stepped out, a hairy arm snug around her neck, a handgun to her head.

Clyde? Had the sniper missed? What happened to Skyler?

Holding his breath, Logan sighted his weapon.

Hunched over, his head buried behind the pregnant woman for protection, Clyde exited next. A woman’s arms were wrapped around his waist from the back.

Bonnie?

The trio continued in an awkward dance until Logan could finally identify Skyler as the woman in the rear. Where is Bonnie? Would she be following them in a moment, flanked by other hostages, or had she been taken out by the sniper?

Near the middle of the alley, the pregnant woman wobbled before dropping to her knees, keeling over in a faint. Clyde immediately pulled Skyler in front of him and put his back to the wall.

Logan needed to unsettle him again before he could lift his gun against Skyler. “FBI! Freeze!”

Clyde spun, dropped his arm from Skyler’s waist and aimed his weapon at Logan.

“Drop it or I’ll shoot!” Logan shouted.

“Logan?” Skyler cried out in surprise.

Clyde cocked his weapon. Logan fired. Skyler karate-chopped Marty’s arm. His gun flew from his hand and skittered across the asphalt. His gasp of pain hunched him over, but he recovered quickly and grabbed Skyler’s arm. He pulled her to his chest, using her as a shield and blocking Logan from getting off another shot. As Logan started closing in on his position, Clyde clearly knew his time was running out.

“Don’t think this is over, Brennan,” he screamed at her. “You will pay for Bonnie’s death.” He shoved her hard and took off.

Skyler’s arms flailed out, trying to regain her balance, as Clyde ran toward the other end of the alley. Logan set off in pursuit, but came to a halt when Skyler slammed into a Dumpster and ricocheted off, plummeting to the ground. Her head connected with a concrete barrier, and she landed by the pregnant woman.

“Skyler,” he said, rushing to her side. She looked up at him for a long moment, her eyes going wide, then closing, and his heart refused to beat.

THREE

Blinding pain sliced through the back of Skyler’s skull, blocking out all clear thought. She felt strong arms lift her from the ground and place her on a gurney. The movement increased her pain, and it was all she could do to hold back a cry of distress.

“Will she be okay?” Logan asked, his deep rumbling voice echoing down the alley.

Why is he here?

He’d left town two years ago after breaking up with her, and she hadn’t seen him since. Maybe this was all a bad dream and she’d wake up soon. She still dreamed of him sometimes. Pleasant dreams of working on the shelter’s Christmas party together. Something they’d done at this time of year. Would still be doing if he hadn’t left her. Holding hands. Smiling. Then she’d wake up, remember and feel betrayed all over again.

She didn’t want to talk to him, but she couldn’t ignore him, either. She pried her eyes open and squinted into the sun. He came into view, standing tall above her. Dressed in a power suit, white shirt with gray tie, blue eyes ringed with black searching hers.

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” His lips lifted in a sweet smile.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at him. At this man from her past. From her dreams.

“Look at me, Skyler,” Darcie commanded from her other side.

Skyler turned her head, seeing her best friend’s expression tight with concern. “Glad to see you’re conscious again.”

Skyler’s head cleared and the afternoon’s terrifying events came flooding back.

Clyde. The gun in her mouth. Its bitter taste. The stench of fear in the bank. Brady’s shot. Leaving the building. Faith.

“Faith.” Skyler tried to sit up. “How’s Faith?”

“She’s fine.” Darcie gently pressed Skyler back down on the gurney. “On her way to the hospital just to be sure.”

Skyler sighed. “Good. What about Clyde? Did he... Oh, Logan.” She turned to look at him, surprised to find him still carefully watching her. “You were here. In the alley. Did Clyde...?”

“Get away?” He nodded. “Yeah. I got off one shot, but he’s in the wind.”

“There you are.” Jake’s angry voice came from the end of the gurney and suddenly Logan was jerked away. “What part of ‘stay out of our way’ didn’t you understand, Suit? You could’ve gotten Skyler killed with that foolish stunt.”

“Jake, wait,” Skyler shouted, the effort making her head throb harder. “He saved my life.”

“He could also have gotten you killed,” Jake said. “And putting you in that situation wasn’t his decision to make.”

“But it worked out for the best, and he did save my life. Clyde blames me for Bonnie’s death. If he’d kept me with him when he left, he would’ve killed me the minute he felt safe enough to do so.”

“What?” Jake glanced at her over his shoulder but didn’t release Logan.

“Clyde said if I hadn’t texted you, they could’ve safely gotten out of the bank. So he blames me for Bonnie.”

“That’s what he meant,” Logan muttered.

Jake glared at Logan. “Meant by what?”

“Before Clyde took off he said this wasn’t over and Skyler would pay.” Logan freed his jacket from Jake’s grip and pressed out the wrinkle. “Besides the obvious threat here, it’s also important to mention he called his partner Nicole. This is the first time we’ve heard her name, and he was under such duress we have to believe he wasn’t making it up.”

“His name is Marty,” Skyler added.

“Marty?” Logan moved closer to her.

“Most of the time, they called each other Bonnie and Clyde, but in a private conversation when they didn’t think I could hear, she called him Marty and he called her Nicole. He also screamed out her name when Brady took her out.”

“And you’re sure she called him Marty?”

“Positive.”

Jake stepped to the gurney. “We’re losing sight of the real issue here. Marty or Clyde or whatever you want to call him could be coming after Skyler.”

Logan nodded. “That’s a very real possibility.”

Jake locked gazes with Skyler. “I don’t want you going out on your own until this creep is brought in. Be on alert. In fact, you might want to stay home.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes and even that slight movement brought pain. “If everyone on the squad took precautions like that each time someone threatened one of us, we’d all be hermits.”

“Talk some sense into her, Darcie.”

“She has a point. Tempers flare at these standoffs, but the suspect usually calms down.” Darcie squeezed Skyler’s hand. “Besides, I’m less worried about Clyde and more worried that she may need stitches and has a concussion.” Darcie peered at her. “Loss of consciousness is a warning sign, honey. We should get you to the hospital.”

“No.” Skyler wished she could shake her head for emphasis without worsening her headache. “I’m fine.”

Jake got in her face. “You lost consciousness. County procedure dictates a trip to the hospital to be checked out.”

“Procedure, schmedure. I’m good to go.” She tried to push him out of her way and sit up, but the arm Marty had grabbed buckled and a wave of dizziness assaulted her.

“You’re fine?” Logan asked. “Explain why you can’t sit up then.”

She shot him a frustrated glare. “Okay. You all win. I’ll get checked out, but I won’t ride in the ambulance. My car’s in the lot. I’ll drive myself. It’s less than a mile away. I’ll be fine.”

“Ha!” Jake said. “Like I’d let that happen with a head injury.”

Darcie crossed her arms. “And if he did let you go, I’d stop you.”

“I can give you a ride to the E.R.,” Logan offered.

Skyler shot a look at him. He’d never voluntarily offer to leave his crime scene before inspecting it. Never put anything before work. Not even her. Next thing she knew pigs would fly overhead.

“I need to take your statement anyway,” he went on. “We can do it on the way and save time.”

Right, my statement. The job.

Skyler glared up at him, and tried to hide her disappointment, but she felt certain she hadn’t managed it.

Nothing had changed. She still took second place with him. Third, if you counted his father, who truly came first since his career focus was aimed at making his father proud. That wouldn’t change even if Logan was dating again. Making his father proud was Logan’s top priority. Had always been his top priority, but Skyler had let the blush of love distract her and hadn’t seen it. Until the day he’d walked out on her. That horrible, horrible day the week of Christmas, he’d proved he wouldn’t be distracted from his mission to excel at the FBI.

Ever. Not even for a chance at love and a life with her.

* * *

Logan’s phone chimed. Good. A distraction before Skyler’s frustrated glare brought back memories he didn’t want to think about. He’d suspected if he ever ran into her again, she’d be testy. But after two years, he didn’t expect to see her eyes as cold as the day he’d told her he was taking the job at the FBI’s Chicago office. Not one day since then had he found the weather in the Windy City to be colder than her expression that afternoon.

His fault. He shouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place. Not when he was committed to reaching every milestone his FBI father had achieved, but doing so at a younger age. A relationship simply distracted him, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Especially not now. If he was successful in bringing in Bonnie and Clyde by Christmas, he’d become one of the youngest agents in the bureau’s history ever promoted to assistant special agent in charge of a field office.

What father wouldn’t be proud of that accomplishment?

Logan couldn’t relax before then. Or even after. He’d still have to succeed at the job or risk losing the old man’s approval. That meant undivided focus on the work.

He glanced at his phone. His team had arrived and it was time to move this along. He turned his attention back to Skyler.

“If you won’t listen to my medical advice, Skyler,” Darcie said, “there are plenty of shell-shocked witnesses inside who will.” Though she sounded mad, Logan could see she really cared about Skyler before she marched off.

Logan waited for Marsh to follow, but he stood his ground, as if he felt a need to protect Skyler. Logan got that. Seeing both Marsh’s and Darcie’s protectiveness, he could tell the team had formed a close bond. Something Logan had no time for, and yet, when he saw this kind of camaraderie, his solitary lifestyle seemed kind of lame.

Focus, man.

He turned to Skyler. “I hate to do this, but you were in physical contact with Marty and could have contact DNA on your clothes. We’ll need to bag them before we leave.”

“You can change into Darcie’s extra scrubs in the rig,” Jake offered.

“Fine.” She looked at Logan as if she’d rather eat bugs than be this close to him. “It’ll only take me a minute to change.”

Logan ignored the way her coldness kept unsettling him and forced a cordial tone to his voice. “Take your time. My team has arrived, and I need to talk them for a minute, anyway. I’ll send a tech out with an evidence bag for your clothes.”

He headed for the lobby before he did something stupid like try to apologize to Skyler in front of Marsh. Not that Logan didn’t owe her an apology. He did. He was still certain his decision to leave had been the right one, but he was genuinely sorry he’d hurt her in the process. For that, he’d apologize when the time was right.

Now he’d do his job and do it well.

He’d only seen the lobby on the truck’s monitors, so he made a quick sweep of the place before stepping inside. Fellow agent Vince Wagner and the FBI’s Evidence Recovery Team were already processing the scene, and a privacy screen had been erected to hide Nicole’s body. The witnesses were no longer cowering on the floor by the counter but were sitting in chairs, chugging water.

Wagner glanced up, his eyes instantly narrowing as he stared at Logan. He’d gotten the same look from most of the Portland agents. Logan understood their frustration. Totally understood it. They weren’t pleased that the FBI had brought him in from another office to head up their investigation.

As far as they knew, he was there to use expertise gained on a similar robbery spree in Chicago, but it was more than that. Much more. His promotion was on the line. If he didn’t succeed, he was on his way back to Chicago. So it was time to make nice with all the players and get this done.

He crossed the room to a forensic tech named Gary who looked like a thirtysomething version of Santa Claus.

Logan gave the guy instructions to gather Skyler’s clothes, then asked for another bag to collect Faith’s clothing at the hospital. “You’ll also find a small amount of the suspect’s blood in the alley to process. I’d like all the results rushed.”

Gary snorted. “You and every other agent in the bureau. You’ll need Inman’s approval for a rush, and, even then, it’ll likely take a week or so. Maybe more with the holidays.”

He was right. The FBI lab had a backlog just like other law enforcement labs. Even with the special agent in charge of the Portland office requesting a rush, it was unlikely that the lab would move a bank robbery above homicides. It would take days for the results.

Logan held out a business card. “Mind giving me a heads-up if you find anything? I hate to wait for a report to circulate through channels when the other suspect is still on the loose.”

“You got it.” Gary pocketed the card in pants that hung below his belly. “I’ll get those bags for you.”

Logan turned to Wagner, who was watching him with tired eyes. He’d tipped his head, catching the overhead light on his bald scalp, and his lips were pursed below a graying mustache.

“Something bothering you?” Logan asked, hoping they could get any resentment out in the open and deal with it.

Wagner shook his head, but he still seemed uncomfortable with Logan’s presence. For now, Logan would respect the guy’s wishes not to talk about it. “I’ve completed a preliminary interview with Deputy Brennan and learned Bonnie and Clyde used the names Marty and Nicole when they thought no one else could hear them. I suspect those are their real names. Let’s get this information to the rest of the team ASAP so they can get started on developing any additional leads.”

“Finally, real names.” Wagner sounded relieved. “Maybe people will stop calling them Bonnie and Clyde like they’re some sort of heroes.”

“I doubt the press will ever let it go. They thrive on the sensationalism the names garner,” Logan said, then changed gears. “I’d like you to handle the scene while I transport Deputy Brennan to the hospital to check for a concussion. I’ll finish my interview on the way.” Logan didn’t wait for Wagner’s agreement but glanced at the privacy screen. “Is anyone from the medical examiner’s office here yet?”

“No.”

“When they arrive, make sure the body’s printed and swabbed for DNA.”

“And hope she has a record so we finally have a last name?”

“Exactly,” Logan said, heading for the screen. “I’ll take a quick look—then I’m out of here.”

He stepped behind it and heard Wagner stop a few feet away. At the sight of the body, Logan swallowed hard. He didn’t often deal with death in his job. He spent far more time pushing paper than anything, but Nicole wasn’t the first shooting victim he’d seen. Sadly, she wouldn’t be the last.

He squatted next to her. Not wanting to contaminate the evidence, he resisted touching her, but he did notice an odd distortion to her face.

“Check this out.” He changed angles for a better view. “See the way her nose and chin have shifted?”

Wagner bent down. “Looks fake.”

“Probably a prosthetic. Like you’d see in movie special effects. Maybe Marty or Nicole was a makeup artist. Would explain how they changed their appearance and why no one’s been able to ID them.”

“That would make sense since the first robbery took place in L.A.”

“Make sure the ME takes great care when she removes the prosthetics so she doesn’t damage them. Then get someone in the L.A. office to show them around Hollywood to see if anyone recognizes their work. And see if we can find out where the makeup supplies came from.” Logan stood. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to check with hospitals and clinics for a male of Marty’s description with a gunshot wound.”

Wagner nodded. “But honestly, the amount of blood you described in the alley suggests a superficial wound at most, and he won’t likely need a doctor.”

Logan decided not to lecture Wagner about following every lead no matter how small. It would only send a bad message that Logan micromanaged his team. That was the last thing he needed when he was trying to gain their cooperation. “Okay, I’m out of here. You have my cell, right?”

“Yes,” Wagner said, appearing relieved Logan was leaving.

He headed for the door, stopping only to grab the evidence bag for Faith’s clothing. He hated leaving the crime scene, but he believed Skyler was the key to cracking this ongoing investigation. As a trained officer, she’d likely noticed things during the robbery she didn’t even know she’d seen. He would do his best to bring the memories to the surface before they had time to fade. Conducting the interview immediately was crucial.

He stepped outside and spotted Skyler sitting on the gurney, her face raised to the sun, the rich red highlights in her hair glinting in the warm rays. She’d replaced her frilly blouse with a faded scrub top, one pigtail stuck inside as if she’d dressed in a hurry. Despite a white bandage circling her head and baggy scrubs, she could still get his heart rate going.

As she lay on the gurney earlier, he’d noticed her wearing the same pair of jeans she’d loved when they were together. Except in the passing of time, she’d sewn colorful patches on them.

Just thinking about her free-spirited attire made him shake his head. The two of them were so different. He was a by-the-rules kind of guy, while she was easygoing, and yet they’d seemed almost perfect together.

Skyler suddenly looked at him. Her eyes communicated everything he knew she must be feeling—fear, anger, frustration.

A strong impulse to pull her into his arms, to shelter her from anything bad that might happen, had him taking a step back.

Don’t go there, man.

She scooted to the edge of the gurney and planted a hand on her hip, a saucy expression on her face as her gaze settled on him. “You gonna stand there and stare at me or give me a ride?”

Right, like even if he wanted to hold her, she’d let him. She didn’t accept help willingly. Outspoken and stubborn a good bit of the time, she stood on her own two feet. He hadn’t forgotten that part of her personality. Not with the earful she’d given him when he’d decided to take the Chicago transfer. That he would never forget.

But he couldn’t let it get in the way. Neither of them could. He needed her help to find the bank robber who would make Logan’s career. And if his suspicions were correct, she needed him to keep her safe when Marty chose to attack.

FOUR

Logan took ground-eating strides toward Skyler. She should look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He still infuriated her, but there was no denying he was something to look at—his chin wide and chiseled at hard angles, black hair thick and wavy. But it was those steely-blue eyes that had always gotten to her.

Intense. Dark. Maybe brooding at times.

So what? She couldn’t stop the attraction, but she could stop herself from reacting to it and doing something stupid.

She fisted her hands, letting her nails bite into the sensitive flesh.

“Ready to go?” His mouth turned up in a lazy smile that was in direct contrast to his sharp focus, sending her pulse beating faster.

Disgusted with her betraying emotions, she pushed off the gurney faster than she should have and nearly lost her balance. She grabbed the wall to remain upright. She waited for the wooziness to pass, and caught sight of small dark stains dotting the alley. Marty’s blood?

The feel and taste of his gun in her mouth came roaring back, and she swallowed hard, forcing down the ensuing panic. She wouldn’t lose it now. Not here. Not in front of other law enforcement officers and certainly not in front of Logan.

“You actually hit Marty?” she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and fear.

“Looks like I grazed him. My team is getting a bulletin out to local E.R.s and urgent care clinics in case he seeks medical attention.” His phone rang, drawing his attention. He frowned at the screen, his deep scowl letting her know something was wrong.

“Excuse me a minute.” He stepped out of earshot and paced. Back and forth. Over and over, quick steps across the alley and back, his hands plunged into his hair.

Seemed as if some things didn’t change. He was still so driven to succeed he rarely stood still. It had taken her a year to get him to let his guard down and fully relax around her. He’d obviously returned to his breakneck pace in Chicago. She was sure he’d burn out long before he aged out of the bureau.

He stowed his phone, that frown deepening even more as he rejoined her. “We can go now.”

She knew better than to ask about his call and marched toward the end of the alley. The hum of conversation from bystanders greeted her before she spotted them crowding behind wooden barriers. They pointed at her, and she heard cameras clicking. Looky-loos. She should’ve expected them, but she’d let her thoughts of Logan distract her. They were searching for anything sensational to grasp on to from the robbery. Maybe they’d tweet about it or post pictures on Facebook.

The last thing she needed today.

She slowly lowered her head and pushed forward to get out of the limelight as quickly as possible. Black wingtip shoes planted themselves in her path, forcing her to stop. She raised her head to find a male dressed in khakis, a white button-down shirt and a tie decorated with blindingly bright Christmas ornaments. He shoved a microphone into her face.

“Paul Parsons, News Channel Four. We heard that you were injured in the robbery, Deputy Brennan.”

“I’m fine.” Skyler tried to sidestep him, but he jumped in front of her.

“Are you working with the FBI to bring Clyde in?” Excitement lifted his tone.

Logan stepped forward. “Deputy Brennan’s assisting us, as are all of the witnesses. Now if you’ll excuse us, she needs to get to the E.R. to have her injury checked out.” Logan shouldered the reporter out of Skyler’s way and his hand came to rest on her back, urging her toward the crowd. This wasn’t the time to argue against his touch, so she allowed it and hurried ahead.

“You heard it on our station first,” Parsons said in his reporter’s tone. “Portland’s own Deputy Skyler Brennan will be working with the FBI on the Bonnie and Clyde investigation.”

“Like that’s newsworthy,” Skyler mumbled and gingerly climbed over the barrier.

“Deputy Brennan, wait, please.” Parsons’s voice came from behind her.

Skyler groaned. Even if she could dredge up the energy to bolt away from him, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t afford to antagonize the press when she was still seeking positive publicity for the shelter’s upcoming Christmas party. She turned slowly to keep the world from spinning.

Parsons rushed up to her again, the microphone now shoved in his pocket. “I’d really like to do an exclusive interview with you. People want feel-good stories this time of year, and we could combine your work for the shelter with the way you kept the hostages safe. You know, a local hero kind of thing.”

She was far from a hero, but the shelter could use as much publicity as possible to raise awareness. Still, connecting the shelter to a violent bank robbery wouldn’t be a good idea. “I really—”

“This isn’t the time for this discussion,” Logan barged in. “She needs to see a doctor.” Before Parsons could respond, Logan parted the crowd with one hand and urged her forward with the other.

She allowed him to direct her, but her irritation flared with each step. How dare he presume to know what she wanted? Sure, she didn’t want to do the interview, but he had no right to make choices for her. Not now. Not when he was out of her life.

After moving out of sight of the crowd, she shot him a testy look. “What was up with that? You have no right to speak for me. I let it go the first time Parsons asked because I didn’t want to be interviewed today, but interfering the second time says you’re planning to make a habit of it.”

“What?” he asked, clearly confused.

“When we were together, it might’ve been different. I’d at least try to understand if you spoke up on my behalf like that, but you gave up that right when you walked out.” She rushed ahead of him. The world whirled in front of her, and she instantly regretted it.

“Skyler, wait.” He hurried up beside her and steadied her. She could barely abide his touch, but it was either his hand or a face-plant on the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I wasn’t trying to talk for you—I just didn’t like the way he kept stopping you from getting to the hospital.”

She twisted to stare up at him, sending a breath-stealing jolt through her head. Or was it his nearness after all these years that took her breath away? Seeing his eyes up close. Smelling his expensive cologne. Remembering their time together, always remembering.

He didn’t pull away or say a word. His gaze locked on hers.

“Skyler,” he finally whispered as his hand lifted to her face. He brushed his fingers lightly over her cheekbone, his touch feeling like a branding iron. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Her heart leaped at the open regret in his voice, but his comment also reminded her of the lonely nights she’d spent at home after the Christmas holidays, longing to see him. She shook off his fingers and forced herself to move back. “As you said, now’s not the time for such things. I really need to see that doctor.”

He frowned and gestured down the street. “My car’s at the end of the block.”

His car. Here in Portland. Not in Chicago.

“When were you going to tell me you were back in town?” she blurted out before she thought better of continuing their personal discussion. “Or weren’t you planning to contact me?”

“I haven’t moved back here, Skyler.”

Disappointment she didn’t want to feel lodged in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Then why are you working the bank robbery?”

“I was successful in solving a similar robbery spree in Chicago, so the bureau assigned me to head up this investigation.”

Something in his tone led her to believe he wasn’t being completely forthright with her. Not a surprise. He’d kept the job opportunity in Chicago from her for a month before telling her he was leaving, and he had even less reason to be candid now. But it still hurt. Would continue to hurt. Which was why she needed to give her statement and be done with this investigation.

He clicked the remote and unlocked his rental car. She jerked open her car door before he could get it for her as he’d frequently done in the past. She’d always considered him the perfect gentleman. He may still be a gentleman, but she now knew he was far from perfect.

She slid onto the buttery soft leather seat as he settled behind the wheel. He soon merged the car onto Twenty-third Avenue, but she didn’t even notice the bustling traffic for the tension filling the car.

Thankfully, the hospital was nearby.

At a red light, he turned the knob on a portable police scanner. Right. His emotions weren’t tainting the air. Only hers. He didn’t feel the same distress. As usual, he was thinking about the job.

Good. His choice served as a reminder to be far more careful with her emotions around him.

He twisted his head around to check for cars, then switched lanes. “I’d forgotten about the crazy traffic in this neighborhood.”

Small talk. Had they really come to this? “I’m sure Chicago has a trendy area with shops and restaurants like this,” she replied.

“I don’t get out much, so I couldn’t say.”

Not surprising. He probably ate all his meals at work or his apartment. It took time to make friends. To do things with them. Precious time he’d devote to getting ahead at the FBI.

How had she ever thought the two of them made a good couple? That she and anyone made a good couple? Her parents, with all their bickering and unhappiness, proved that marriage wasn’t a good idea. With them as role models, how could she even think about finding lasting happiness in a relationship?

She stifled a sigh and stared out the window.

He glanced at her. “Tell me about the robbery.”

Thankful to have a safe topic, she recounted the details. “I have a feeling Bonnie and Clyde are both into drugs. Marty’s teeth screamed meth user. Both their eyes were glazed, and they seemed to be coming down off something.”

“The autopsy will confirm that.” He clicked on a blinker. “Did you notice anything odd about their physical appearance?”

“Odd?” She thought for a minute, wincing when visions of Marty’s angry eyes glaring at her over the gun barrel came roaring back. She took a deep breath and forced herself to replay the entire incident. “I remember thinking Nicole had a perfect complexion, which is odd for a drug user.”

“Makeup.”

“Excuse me?”

“She was wearing a prosthetic nose and heavy makeup to throw us off.”

“Really?” Skyler swiveled to look at him. “How interesting.”

“I’m guessing Marty wore theatrical makeup, too. But you didn’t notice it up close?”

“No.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. At least nothing else that I remember.”

“You must’ve noticed something.”

“Don’t be so sure. All cops like to think we’ll be cool and calm under pressure, but when your life is on the line...” She shrugged.

“Maybe it would help if you closed your eyes to visualize the scene.”

She never wanted to close her eyes again. Never wanted to replay the memories of Marty and relive that fear. But if doing so aided in bringing Marty to justice, she’d try it.

She rested her head on the seat back and forced her eyes to close. Her other senses shot to life. She felt the cool air-conditioning blowing over her face. Smelled Logan’s sandalwood cologne mingling with the car’s pine air freshener. Heard the bustling traffic. But her mind refused to go back to the bank.

Calm down, she told herself and pressed her fists against her knees.

Logan settled his hand over hers.

She jerked it free, her eyes flashing open.

“Relax,” he said. “You’re safe here.”

Ha! She wasn’t safe. At least not emotionally. Her reaction had nothing to do with the robbery and everything to do with him.

“Close your eyes again,” he continued soothingly. “Concentrate on Marty. His clothes. His smell. His accent.”

She closed her eyes but kept her hands out of Logan’s reach. She dredged up Marty’s voice as he talked to Nicole. “He didn’t have an accent. Not even regional.” Thinking about his smell, she flashed forward to the end when he’d forced her to put her arms around him. “He smelled like powder. Not baby powder, but like face powder. Maybe from the makeup.”

“What about his body? Did he have a tattoo or other identifying marks?”

“Not that I remember. Plus, if he was going through all the trouble of changing his appearance, I doubt he’d let something like that show.” She ran through the whole event, pausing at his latex gloves. “A ring. He wore a ring. It was large. Gold, no stone, but a raised top that had a symbol or words.” She mentally zoomed in on it. “He wore latex gloves, so I couldn’t make out the letters. Maybe it was a class ring.”

“From a college?” Logan asked.

“He didn’t seem like the collegiate type.” She looked at Logan. “I’d put him in his early thirties, so it’s doubtful he was still wearing a high school ring. College is a better guess, I suppose.”

“We’ll try to enhance the video to see if we can identify it, but if not, would you be willing to look at pictures of college class rings?”

“Sure, but without knowing anything about Marty or Nicole, how would you even know which colleges to begin looking at?”

“Though they’ve been quite successful, Marty and Nicole are amateur robbers, and amateurs often target banks close to home. Dumb, I know, but they do. So I’ll go back to their first robbery and pull colleges in the general area.”

“Maybe he’d recently moved there or he went to school out of state.”

“You could be right, but despite their amateur status we have very little to go on, so this is as good of a place as any to start.”

“You keep saying amateur, but their intrusion style behavior didn’t fit an amateur’s profile. Amateurs usually pass notes and don’t carry weapons, right?”

His eyes widened in surprise, likely over her knowledge of bank robbers. “That’s how they operated at first. But after the success of their first two holdups, they started showing up with guns.”

The mention of guns sent Skyler flashing back to the moment Nicole lost her life, falling to the ground with a sickening thud. “We’re only talking about Marty now.”

“Right. Just Marty.” Logan’s fingers tightened on the wheel, going white from the tight grip. He came to a stop at a red light and met her gaze. “There may only be one of them now, but don’t think that means you can let your guard down. Marty’s the one who pulled the trigger on the hostages in L.A. and now he has a grudge to settle with you. That not only makes him dangerous, but deadly, as well.”

* * *

For about the hundredth time, Logan paced past the large Christmas spruce scenting the E.R. lobby with fresh pine. It was amazing he even noticed the tree at all. Celebrating Christmas was the furthest thing from his mind right now. And he wasn’t even thinking about the job. Concern for Skyler kept his thoughts occupied. She’d been with the doctors for three hours.

Maybe something was seriously wrong with her. Maybe he should march up to the desk to demand an update from the nurse.

He hadn’t caught even a glimpse of Skyler since she’d rushed out of his car at the entrance, saying she’d find her own ride home. Of course, he didn’t listen to her. He couldn’t leave her alone here. So he’d parked and gone inside. After he’d collected Faith’s clothing, he’d started passing the time by making phone calls, starting with Wagner.

Not that it moved the investigation forward. Wagner didn’t find matching prints for Nicole in any of the databases. So she didn’t have a record.

Strike one.

Logan called SAC Frank Inman to fast-track Nicole’s lab work in the event she’d been a crime victim and her DNA was in a database. He’d agreed, but they both knew it was an extreme long shot.

Strike two.

Calls finished and still no Skyler, he tried to make a to-do list. He couldn’t concentrate, though, and his thoughts kept going back to her.

Not in a good way. Over and over, he replayed their last conversation the night he’d left for Chicago, two days before her annual shelter Christmas party. Leaving her to complete the final prep for the party without his help was lame, but he’d had to go that night, for his own peace of mind.

She held parties for the families on Valentine’s Day, Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. If he’d spent another wonderful holiday with her, he would never have been able to leave. That would’ve ended with him resenting her for keeping him from his goals. Neither of them would’ve benefited from that.

Now she was mad. Good and mad and she was his main witness. He doubted she’d relax enough around him to come up with those repressed memories if she had any.

Strike three. He was out.

Enough waiting.

Logan crossed to the harried nurse to ask for an update. He heard Skyler’s voice coming from behind a divider, grinding his feet to a halt. He listened as a doctor explained that rest, particularly resting her eyes, would let her brain heal faster from her concussion.

A concussion. Just like Darcie suspected.

Skyler’s voice as she thanked the doctor for the quality care and said goodbye cut through his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was spying on her so he took his seat again and pulled out his phone. She stopped at the nurse’s desk, but Logan couldn’t make out their intense conversation.

When he finally heard her footsteps crossing over to him, he resisted making eye contact. Instead, he continued to thumb through the screens on his phone.

“Logan,” she said, now standing over him. “I thought I made it clear that I’d find a ride home.”

He looked up, and, though her brows were knitted in irritation, his heart turned over. Seeing her today had unsettled him more than he would’ve thought possible.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He schooled himself to remain detached as he stood. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“No concussion or other damage?”

“I said I’m fine.” She turned away, her tension palpable.

She was unable to face him while dodging his question, which meant she was planning to hide the concussion from him. He opened his mouth to demand she tell him, but he had no right to know about it or anything else in her life. As she’d said, he’d given up that right when he’d walked out. But he wouldn’t let her jeopardize her health. He was about to ask more probing questions when Paul Parsons rushed into the lobby, his tie loosened at the neck and a five-o’clock shadow darkening his jaw.

“Good, I’m glad I caught you,” he said, sounding out of breath, his microphone conspicuously missing.

Skyler rubbed her forehead. “Now’s not a good time for an interview.”

“I’m not giving up on the interview, but this isn’t about that.” Parsons took a gulp of air. “I was outside and Clyde called the station, demanding to speak to me. They patched him through to my cell.”

“He what?” Logan asked, wondering what angle Parsons was working here.

“I know. Weird, right?” Parsons’s phone chimed, and he dug it out. “He said he saw my story outside the bank on TV and wanted me to pass a message on to Deputy Brennan.” He glanced at his phone. “Interesting. Very interesting.” He looked at Skyler. “My producer tracked the phone number Clyde called from.” He paused and, if possible, Logan knew he’d insert a drumroll here for effect.

“And?” Logan asked, trying to hurry him along.

Parsons turned to Skyler. “The phone’s registered to you.”

“Me?” Skyler seemed confused.

“He used your cell to call Jake at the bank,” Logan said. “Did you realize he kept it?”

“I...hadn’t really thought about it.”

“I’ll have Wagner check the bank and if it’s missing he can run a GPS search.”

“You’ll want to hear this message first.” Parsons sounded mad, likely because they hadn’t waited with bated breath for the message.

“Go ahead,” Logan said.

“Clyde was very specific about what he wanted me to say and made me write it down to get it right.” Parsons flipped a few pages on his pad. “He said, and I quote, ‘I see the fall didn’t do my job for me. When I’m through with you, Deputy, even the best E.R. docs in the world won’t be able to save you.’”

“He knows I’m here.” Her gaze shot around the space. “Which means he’s nearby. Watching.” Her focus returned to Logan, fear clouding her eyes.

Logan had spent hours in the lobby and knew for certain that Marty wasn’t in the waiting room. But he could be peering at them through the windows. Keeping his body between Skyler and the windows, he pushed her toward the nurses’ station.

“What’re you doing?” she protested.

He didn’t care if she got angry with him for making a decision for her again. He needed to get her out of the lobby before Marty made good on his threat and fired a shot through the window to end her life.

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