Chapter Thirty-Two

Allen

I wait by her bedside, clasping her left hand tightly, anxious for her to wake and look at me.

Bastard tore her rotator cuff all to hell, I remember the surgeon telling me, and I growl.

And she offed his ass. He deserved it. It was very satisfying when they told me he was pronounced dead at the scene.

Brielle shudders, then moans, a haunted, wounded sound that breaks my heart all over again and takes me right back to the abject terror I felt as we raced to her house.

A light knock on the doorframe, and I glance over.

“Hey, Sam.”

“How is she?” he asks.

“Still sleeping off the anesthesia,” I tell him. “How are the other two doing?”

“Her assistant is still in surgery,” he reveals. “And Tucker was just telling me that Mari’s got a skull fracture and swelling on the brain. They’re keeping her in a medically induced coma for the next forty-eight hours to give her body a chance to fight the swelling on its own.”

I wince.

“What the hell happened tonight?” I wonder aloud.

“We can play back the tape,” Sam says, and I look at him, confused.

“Didn’t Pete tell you? Another thing about that system’s panic feature is that when it is activated, it also prompts all interior cameras to record. Audio and video. It is a brand-new customization that Pete came up with. Brielle’s place was the beta test for it.”

“I want it. Now.”

“Pete already collected it all, boss, and he said to tell you he can queue it up the moment you get back to the office.”

“Nope,” I say. “I’m not leaving her. I will watch it here.”

“On it, boss.”

***

A half-hour later my team has assembled. I have Pete’s laptop balanced across my knees and am putting earbuds in so I can hear the audio without disturbing Brielle.

I take a deep breath, brace myself, and press ‘play’. Immediately I am thrown into the nightmare that the love of my life and her best friend endured – starting with Rita’s betrayal.

The split screen enables me to see both Tony’s lecherous assault on Brielle and Rita’s attack on Mari at once, and I shake with barely controlled rage.

It gets worse as the video progresses and I watch Brielle’s ex argue with then stab Rita, and I snarl when I hear him boldly announce his intention to rape and kill Mari and Brielle.

I fight back nausea and stay the course, proud as hell when I watch Brielle take aim and fire, then relieved to see myself come barreling through the front door and racing over to hold her. Around us, my team and armed police officers fan out across the screen to check Mari, Rita, and the sadistic bastard taking his last pitiful, painful breath on the living room floor.

Tucker’s face is agonized when he crouches down beside Mari, then suddenly scoops her up and rushes for the front door. I did not notice it in the chaos of real time, but it is as plain as day in the playback, and it breaks my heart to witness.

My team watches me quietly as I reach up with shaking hands and take the earbuds out, and it takes me a few minutes to rein my seething fury in enough to speak.

Make a copy of this, and make sure Tucker gets it,” I tell Pete. “If she survives, that bitch Rita is going to jail for a long, long time.”

I hand Pete’s laptop back to him, and one by one they file out, each of them shaking my hand or squeezing my good shoulder in a show of solidarity.

The last to leave is Hope, who leans down and whispers, “By the way, I almost forgot to tell you – Brielle’s favorite color is royal blue,” before she too pats my shoulder and walks out the door.

Four Weeks Later…

Allen

“When people talk about ‘couples’ therapy’, I don’t think this is what they mean,” Brielle says with a grin as we walk into the physical therapy center side-by-side.

“Look at it this way. We’re bonding, right?” I offer hopefully, and chuckle when she rolls her eyes at me.

“Sure. Bonding,” she answers, then leans in to give me a kiss. “But you’re doing better at it than I am.”

“Well, I did have a two-week head start on you, you know,” I remind her. “You’ll get there.”

“Here’s hoping.”

***

The following afternoon we get confirmation that Rita, who survived her injuries, has been indicted on multiple charges – including attempted murder for her attack on Mari - and will stand trial, as will ex-realtor Scott Bitzmore for his involvement in the plot.

Brielle is determined to testify if needed, but I assure her that the evidence Tucker has already gathered – including the security system recording – should be plentiful enough to put Rita and Bitzmore both away for a long time.

***

Two days later, we are lounging in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, and Brielle turns to me.

“I don’t want to live in that house anymore,” she says softly against my chest as she snuggles closer. “I want to sell it and move in here.”

“Fine by me,” I say, gently stroking up and down her back. “On one condition.”

She lifts her head and looks at me, completely stunned.

“Condition? What condition?”

I roll away from her long enough to retrieve the small velvet ring box from my nightstand and open it before I turn to face her again.

“On the condition that you say you’ll marry me, because I am head over heels in love with you, Brielle,” I say, and show her the dainty silver, diamond, and sapphire engagement ring that I had custom-made just for her.

Her eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip trembles before she takes a deep breath and whispers, “I love you too, Allen. Yes, I will marry you.”

I slide the ring onto her finger, toss the box out of our way, then carefully slide her warm, soft body up and onto mine, knowing to my core that Brielle is not the only one who was saved.

“Welcome home, baby,” I whisper before I kiss her.