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The smileon my face is so wide my cheeks are honestly starting to hurt, but I can’t be bothered to care.
Not even a little. Because Gibson’s hand is cupping my face, his other wrapped around my waist as he kisses me goodnight.
“I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asks.
“Better be sooner,” I reply as I pull away. “Call me when you get everything wrapped up? I have patient charts to go over, so I’ll be up for a while still.”
“Absolutely.” He grins and leans in to kiss me again. “Goodnight, Dr. Hunt.”
“Goodnight, Sheriff.”
He kisses me one final time, then steps back so I can unlock my door. After I step inside, I wave, then shut the door and flip the locks. As soon as it’s secured, I turn and lean back against it, both hands pressed to my chest right over my still-fluttering heart.
Gibson Lawson.
Finally.
I push off the door and reach for the light switch just inside my kitchen, my mind going over every amazing moment of tonight. Is this really happening? Or is this some wonderfully amazing dream I’ll wake up from?
Oh man, I hope not.
The fist comes out of nowhere. It slams into the side of my head, and I fall to the side, hitting the wall with a heavy thud, dazed and confused. Spots dance in my vision as I try to discern what’s happening. It takes me all of about two seconds to realize I’m being attacked.
A dark shadow lunges for me, so I rip the closest picture off the wall and swing as hard as I can. Glass shatters, and my attacker stumbles backward into the counter.
“He—” I start to scream, but my attacker is back steady on their feet and hitting me with the full weight of their body. I slam into the top of my glass coffee table, and pain shoots through my back as the glass shatters beneath the weight of our combined bodies.
My attacker remains on top of me, and something pinches my neck. I worry it’s glass, that it could have hit an artery, but before I can even fully process that, the horrifying truth settles over me.
My limbs go limp.
My eyes grow heavy.
And the pain subsides.
I’ve been drugged.
“Gibson,” I whisper, my attempt at calling for help. “Please—” Tears stream down my cheeks as I try to crawl away. I have to get away.
But as my body grows heavier and the sedation settles in, I fall completely immobile. The dark shadow looms over me, their face covered in a black ski mask and sunglasses.
God, please save me. Please, Lord, bring me out of this alive.
GIBSON
“This iswhat you called me in for?” I demand as I glare at the broken window of the diner. “You couldn’t have handled this alone?”
“I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for this.” Deputy Poland replies. He’s young, fresh out of training, but my frustration is very real. Even if I know I’m only annoyed because I’d had to end my date with Lani early to be here.
“Did you take a statement?” I ask, gesturing toward Conner and Talia Matthews, the diner owners, who’d called it in.
“I did.”
“Did anyone see anything?” I press.
He checks his notepad. “No. They were at home when the alarm company called them to let them know the glass shattered. They arrived on the scene a few minutes before I did.”
“Okay. Pull security footage from the outside and the ATM across the street. See if you can find anything, okay?” I looked to Matthews. “Was anything taken?” I ask.