King Bobby groaned. “I’m goin’ back to Texas. You kin’ keep your money for when you get out of the can,” he said to Marshall, clearly fed up with the whole situation.
“Oh, hell. I’m probably safer in the joint here than in Vegas where the loan sharks can find me,” Marshall muttered. Then he lowered the gun, tossing it onto the ground.
Mike scooped up the weapon and seconds later, the local cops had surrounded them, demanding Mike’s attention, preventing him from dealing with Amber and her declaration.
I love you.
OTHER THAN A FEW BRUISES where Marshall’s fingertips had dug into her skin, physically Amber was fine. Emotionally was another story. But as soon as she boarded the bus for Boston, she’d be able to put this ordeal behind her. Putting Mike there, too, though, wouldn’t be quite as easy.
When the police had arrived, one officer had taken care of Amber, steering her toward a waiting ambulance over her objections. Standard procedure, they’d said. And Mike had been occupied giving his statement.
He hadn’t looked for her at all, not that he’d had much of a chance in all the commotion.
King Bobby had disappeared, probably to avoid any possible scandal that might upset his so-called associates. And Amber knew Mike wouldn’t bring up the man’s name to the local authorities. The simpler the story, the faster this mess would all go away. Simple. Since Mike was a fellow cop, they’d taken his word for what had gone down.
A man from Amber’s past had followed her to Stewart and tried to force her to go with him at gun-point. She assumed they’d both told the same story, because the police seemed satisfied with her answers, asking only for her personal information so they could find her if they had any more questions. She supplied her Las Vegas address, home phone and cell.
A quick glance at her watch told her she could still make her bus. Another told her Mike was still busy with the local cops.
She could get on the bus and go home without a messy confrontation. He’d probably appreciate that, since her I love you declaration had gone unanswered. Besides, she hadn’t said it to him, she’d said it to Marshall.
About Mike.
After he’d shut the door on them.
Amber was many things but she wasn’t a martyr. She knew he cared for her, but he’d made it clear he could never forgive what she’d done. To stick around where she wasn’t wanted wasn’t her way. Mike had saved her and she was grateful. Beyond that, there was nothing more to say.
IT WAS OVER.
No sooner had Mike grabbed Marshall’s gun from the sidewalk than the local cops took over. They cuffed Marshall and read him his rights. The paramedics, who’d been called out along with the police, presumably by someone who’d witnessed the standoff, had reached Amber before Mike had a chance to get close to her. It was just as well. Anything they had to say to each other was best done in private.
At that moment, Mike hadn’t a clue what he was feeling beyond relief and an overwhelming desire to kiss her until she melted into him, his body joined with hers, and he forgot the fear that had consumed him watching Marshall holding her in one hand, a gun in the other. But as Amber had pointed out earlier, that was just sex. Anything physical between them had always been spectacular. He wasn’t ready to delve deeper.
So with the paramedics seeing to Amber, Mike put all his energy into making damn sure Marshall Banks didn’t slip through any procedural cracks. Although Stewart wasn’t his jurisdiction, Mike prided himself on being thorough, and he wanted the local cops to handle this booking the same way.
Only when the squad car carrying Marshall had pulled away did Mike turn to look for Amber. He glanced around, but he didn’t see her anywhere. The ambulance had left and only one cop remained, scrawling notes while he sat in his car.
“Hey, man. Do you know where Amber went?” he asked.
The guy shook his head. “No clue.” Then his radio beeped, capturing the cop’s attention.
Mike headed for the bus station. He asked a few people if they’d seen her based on description, but no one had. Finally, he walked over to the young woman selling tickets behind the counter. “Have you seen the woman who was being held hostage earlier?” he asked.
“Yep. She took the number ten.” The woman hooked her thumb toward the bus stop far from where the drama had taken place.
Mike’s heart nearly stopped. “She what?”
“Bought a ticket before the ruckus and took the bus after.” The woman glanced around him. “I’m sorry, but you’re holding up the line.”
Mike looked over his shoulder. One person stood waiting to buy a ticket. Some line. “Sure, sorry.” He stepped aside and glanced toward the front door, slowly making his way out.
Gone.
She’d up and left him.
Because he’d told her they were through.
Because even after Marshall had released her, he had avoided dealing with his feelings for Amber by immersing himself in work.