Midnight’s Master (Midnight #3)(72)
Author: Cynthia Eden

No, he wouldn’t.

"Didn’t expect a grab on Storm." The smile dimmed. "Thought you were the target, not her."

"So did I." For a time.

"I didn’t expect a grab, either," Holly muttered.

Gyth shook his head. "When you came in here and I heard the explosion-"

The shifter would have heard the wall collapse from miles away.

"-I knew the shit had hit the fan. I called for backup and got to the house just when the shots were fired."

Gyth exhaled on a heavy sigh. "That blonde came running out-don’t know where the hell she thought she was going, but I had to hold your men back when they saw her."

Yes, Niol bet he’d had to hold them-hard.

EMTs rushed toward him with a stretcher. Dammit. Niol felt the eyes on him. He heard the screech of tires and saw the news vans jerking to a stop in a cloud of dirt.

"Sir?" A young guy, clean shaven, wearing a perfectly pressed uniform.

"Go with them, Niol," Holly said, her voice stroking over him.

His teeth clenched, but he climbed on the stretcher. He’d disappear long before the ambulance pulled up at the hospital and the ride would keep him away from prying eyes.

Least I’m finally away from the shifter.

Though he’d admit the bastard wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. Emily could have done worse.

Course she could have done better.

Holly leaned over him. Her eyes were wide and stark and the dried blood on her neck made him want to kill that ass-hole all over again.

"Thank you." Her mouth lifted into a half-smile.

He didn’t want her f**king thanks.

He just wanted her.

The EMT moved to strap him down.

"Don’t even think about it!"

The guy backed up, fast.

"Kiss me, Holly." One more kiss, before the world that was waiting with cameras and microphones stole her.

"Storm! Storm!" Niol didn’t look away from her as he heard the yell.

Holly bent over him and brushed her lips against his. Not nearly enough .

His fingers tangled in her hair. He pulled her closer and thrust his tongue into her sweet mouth.

Still not enough.

"Storm! Storm, get a mike! You’re the damn story! This is the best story of your life! Get. A.

Mike!"

Her head lifted. The EMTs waited to wheel him away. And the cameras waited for her.

His heart ached, and not because of the bullet slowly making its way back up through his chest.

She’d stepped in front of a bullet for him. Been willing to die. For him .

Don’t deserve her. Never will. Need to walk away.

Maybe for once, he should do the right thing.

"Good-bye, love." His fingers slipped down her cheek. Brushed over her lips.

Then the EMTs rolled him away from her. She looked so fragile, with the blood on her clothes and the shadows under her eyes. So breakable.

But today, faced with hell, she hadn’t broken.

She’d fired back. Tried to kill a man she’d nearly married. Protected me.

They pushed him into the back of the ambulance. The instant the doors slammed, Niol jerked upright. One of the EMTs, the woman, was a shifter. She’d come to Paradise a few times. A real fox.

He pointed to the brunette. "The vehicle makes a pit stop before the hospital."

She smiled. She knew the way things worked in this city.

Unable to stop himself, Niol turned his head and watched through the back window. Two men stood on either side of Holly. Ben, the cameraman he’d seen a few times. His head was bandaged, and he had his camera hoisted up on his shoulder.

The other guy was older, with silver-streaked hair. He shoved a microphone toward Holly.

Her gaze lifted. Met his.

Do the right thing.

The siren wailed to life.

The ambulance pulled away.

Doing the right thing –fucking hard. But for her, he’d do just about anything.

Even if that meant leaving her.

He’d left her. The red lights from the ambulance lit up the street and Holly watched those lights, spellbound.

He’d left. And she’d seen his eyes-seen the good-bye in them. This wasn’t an I’ll-See-You-Later leave.

This was the end.

The hunters had been stopped. The demons were safe again, and Holly had never felt more alone.

" For Christ’s sake, Storm, take the microphone!"

The bellow had her lifting the gaze she’d dropped and looking into Mac’s glittering eyes. The guy’s face was crimson and he seriously looked like he would be bursting a blood vessel any minute.

"Take the mike." Her cameraman’s whisper.

She blinked and realized that bright lights and cameras were all around her. She heard other reporters talking, running with the story they’d no doubt picked up on the police radio.

It was the story. One she knew more about than any other. But she didn’t want to tell it. She wanted to go after Niol.

It can’t end this way.

It didn’t matter why they had come together in the beginning. She didn’t care about his past. She just wanted his future.

She wanted him.

"I’m begging you-take the microphone!" Mac. His knuckles whitened around the microphone.

Had she really thought he might be the killer?

She’d sure never thought Zack was…

A red hole in his chest. Eyes wide with terror.

No. Don’t go there.

The fingers that were shaking fisted.

The ambulance was gone now. The sudden wind on her cheeks stung, bringing tears to her eyes.

Holly swallowed and slowly straightened her shoulders.

This wasn’t the way things would end for her. Saved, but alone. No damn way.

This wasn’t her ending. Wasn’t their ending.

Her eyes narrowed. "I know where to find you."

"Maybe we should get a doctor to look at her," Ben mumbled. "Could be she’s in shock."

Probably was. Holly figured that would account for the trembling. But, as always, a breakdown really wasn’t an option for her.

There was a story to cover, and after that, there was a demon to catch. A demon who wouldn’t be getting away from her so easily.

No, not so easily.

Holly reached for the microphone. "How do I look?" She knew the answer, though, even before Mac helpfully supplied-

"Like shit, sweetheart, shit." A whistle. "We’re gonna blow those other bastards right out of the water!"

As usual, his tact was absent.

Such was Mac.

"Zoom in on her neck-and her side-some blood’s there, too," he ordered.

But Ben hesitated. "Hol-you sure you don’t want a doctor to look at you?"

The bleeding had stopped. Luckily, her wounds were shallow. She’d be fine. "Start rolling." This was her story. Hers, Sam’s, Carl’s-she owed it to them. And to Kim and Julia.