Page 95 of Sterling Heat

The clip on his gun clicks and I close my eyes, knowing this is it. Like oil and water, ignorance does not mix with empathy.

My final thoughts are of Enya and Adara. How I love them both and I haven’t told either of them how I feel.

“Andy,” Stone yells, drawing closer. “Put the fucking gun down now.”

“I got him,” Andy shouts again. His voice is too high, adrenaline too strong. He remains over me. I don’t bother looking up again. Instead, I close my eyes, willing myself to only focus on Enya. Her sweet kiss. Her soft eyes.

I’ll pick you every time.

Suddenly, a body hits the ground hard a few feet from me. A gun goes off again, and I cover my head with my hands, holding my breath.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

A quick mental assessment tells me I’m not hurt. I’m still alive. I roll my head to see one large body lying over another.

“Stone?” My voice croaks. A new fear takes over. “Stone!” I scramble to my knees and crawl to my brother.

“I’m alright,” he mutters, breathing heavily, words strangled. He rolls off Andy. Both men lay on their backs, facing upward.

“What the fuck, Andy?” I yell, finally upright and stepping over Stone who catches my shin and forces me downward, falling on top of Andy. With a sharp elbow, I slam him in the gut.

“Umph,” Andy chokes.

“You idiot,” I snap, pressing off him and scrambling back crab-walk style like I can’t get away from him fast enough.

“I thought you were him,” Andy grumbles.

“Well, I wasn’t,” I bark, childishly giving him a strong kick in the upper thigh. Dickhead. “I lost him.”

“What did you see?” Stone asks.

“Not much. Just the back of a shirt. Something draping, maybe a flannel. A hood was over his head, like it was part of the shirt or maybe a sweatshirt underneath. Person wasn’t very tall.” Maybe my height or shorter, but I couldn’t be certain. I’m a terrible witness because I wasn’t taking measurements or making out colors. I only saw red and ran.

“You should not have pursued,” Stone scolds me.

He’s right, but still I snap. “Well, I had to do something.” I couldn’t let whoever it was get away. He was in Enya’s house. What if she’d been home? What if she and the baby had been sleeping? What if I hadn’t gotten here?

“Fuck,” I growl, pressing up off the ground to stand. Panic strikes. “Where’s Enya? Adara?”

“They’re both safely in her car.”

“But how do you know, if you’re out here?”

I race back toward the house, fear pushing me forward. Powering onward, I round the house, and see Enya exiting her SUV.

Nearly knocking each other over, we collide in her yard, holding onto one another like if one or the other releases, we’ll melt into the gravel.

She’s kissing my neck and my jaw before I’m holding her head and kissing her forehead and her nose. Our mouths finally meet, and I kiss her hard with all the adrenaline and anxiety rushing through my veins.

I need her.

I need to feel her everywhere to convince myself she’s safe.

Within minutes, we’re interrupted by a throat clearing and then the sharp bark of my name.

“Sebastian.” Stone’s tone reminds me of the time he caught me on the couch with Rachel Eickelmann when I was sixteen.

Enya and I break apart, but I don’t release her. With my arms around her back, I tug her to my chest and place my head on hers, blanketing her with my body, before looking at my brother.