Page 86 of Deadly Force

He’s still huffing and puffing as he disappears down the stairwell, leaving me alone with Brooke and a door that looks a whole lot sturdier than I’d like.

I keep my eyes on her. Can’t help it. She’s alive. Still on her feet. But there’s a tightness in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. She’s coming apart, slow and silent.

She fixes me with a look through the window. "Don't say it."

I cross my arms. Just because I can see her doesn't mean she isn't still in danger.

"So say it for me then," I reply.

She looks upward and blows out a breath, shoulders sagging slightly. "I should have waited for you. I put myself in danger again. I’m an idiot."

My lip curls. “You’re not an idiot. Just stubborn and irritatingly single-minded.”

She steps closer to the door, her eyes locked on mine. “You aren’t angry?”

“Too busy being glad you’re still breathing.”

Her eyes go glassy for half a second. She blinks fast, but not fast enough.

“Next time, I’ll take the gunandI’ll wait for you,” she murmurs. Barely audible through the glass.

I smile. Next time. Lord, help me. I like the sound of her acknowledging she’s better off with me than without me.

I don’t have much time to think on if therewillbe a next time when Reese rounds the corner with an older man in tow—late sixties, wire-frame glasses, a ring of keys clinking in one hand like he's the world's most reluctant jailer.

"The dean," Reese says.

The man eyes us all like we're interrupting his afternoon nap. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t appreciate being forcibly removed from my office.”

I shoot Reese a glance. “You did that?”

Reese gives me a “seriously?” look. “I told him a woman was trapped in the building. That’s all.”

Yeah. That tracks. Reese is ex-Air Force. Calm under pressure. Not exactly known for roughing up tenured faculty.

"Sorry for the trouble, sir," I say.

Grumbling under his breath, he fits the key into the lock, jiggles it, and pushes the door open.

Brooke steps out fast, jaw tight, cheeks flushed. Without warning, she throws herself into me and hugs me hard. Her face buries against my chest, fingers fisting in my shirt like she can’t let go. Like she won’t.

I freeze for half a second, caught off guard. “Missed me that much, huh?” I murmur.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” I say.

Reese chokes on a cough.

Brooke blinks fast, clearly remembering we’ve got an audience. Reese is smirking. The dean looks scandalized. Her cheeks burn hotter, but she doesn’t let go right away.

When she finally steps back, I catch her hand and give it a discreet squeeze.

“If you’d had a weapon,” I say low, “you could’ve shot the lock and kicked the door in.”

It’s a joke. Mostly. But her mouth tugs to the side, and her fingers tighten around mine just a beat longer than necessary.

The dean’s expression shifts from annoyed to alarmed. “I’m calling security. Right now.”

I raise both hands. “No need. We’re leaving.”