His Brother's Bride

Pulling her close once more, Scott positioned his mouth just over her left ear. “I’m going down alone,” he said. “You stay up here.”

“But...”

“Please, Laurel. Just until we know that Leslie isn’t down there holding a gun on them. Worrying about you will be a distraction.”

Especially now, when he was one vacant ache inside where she was concerned.

He waited for her nod, and then, before he did something stupid like kiss her goodbye, he left her.

* * *

LAUREL WAITED, BUT only until she heard Scott reach the bottom of the stairs. Then she followed him. She hadn’t come this far to stop now.

Conscious of Scott’s peace of mind, she hung back, making certain that he didn’t know she was there. If something went wrong, if Leslie was in there armed, they needed someone to be able to call a backup crew.

As the men neared the boiler room, Scott reached out and tapped Murphy on the shoulder. Laurel couldn’t hear what was said, but the officer stood back and let him go first.

The reality of the situation was all too clear to Laurel. If someone was inside that door with a gun, Scott could be walking straight to his death.

No!

The reaction was instant.

I love him, God! Laurel’s mind screamed silently. He can’t die. I love him. She’d never known she could cry inside. Never known something could hurt so much.

She’d thought losing Paul had been the worst thing that would ever happen to her. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Heart pounding so loud she was afraid it was going to give her away, Laurel watched as Scott took a tool from Murphy and worked on the brand-new lock she’d only just noticed on the boiler room door. Murphy held a small flashlight for him.

Please let him be okay. The prayer mingled with the one her heart had been whispering since they’d first started this journey a week ago. Please let them be okay.

The lock gave way, and Scott swung the door open.

Laurel held her breath as he stood poised in the doorway.

“There!” The urgency in Murphy’s voice sent chills through Laurel. She could no longer stay put as both men disappeared inside. Just as she reached the door, she heard a moan. Relief flooded through her. Someone in that room was alive.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE MAN WAS LYING up against a wall. At first glance Scott thought he was dead—thought they were both dead. The woman was spooned up against him, her head on his shoulder. But as he got closer, he could see the faint rise and fall of both chests.

They were breathing.

While Murphy checked out the rest of the small room, Scott approached the sleeping couple. William was the first to wake, his face immediately filling with alarm as he automatically pulled Cecilia beneath him, shielding her. Still mostly unconscious, she moaned at the rough treatment.

“It’s okay, William,” Scott said softly. “We’re police officers, here to help you.”

“Oh.” The older gentleman slowly sat up, pulling Cecilia with him.

“What?” the woman cried out in fear and confusion.

Leaning down to her, William said, “Shh. It’s okay, my love.” He looked up at Scott. “They’re here to help.” The older man’s voice broke and tears filled his eyes.

“Help?” Cecilia asked, still obviously dazed.

“We’re saved,” William said. “We’re saved.”

“Saved?” Seemingly unaware of the other people in the room, Cecilia stared up at William. “Are you sure?”