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Ignoring him and the pain that threatened to consume her, Florence closed the couple of steps between her and Toby and kept her gun trained on him as she reached for him. He kicked out with his legs, and although she tried to dodge to the side, he managed to knock her down.

When he tried to roll on top of her to pin her to the ground, Florence went for the quickest way to incapacitate a man.

She kneed him in the groin.

His attention diverted, Florence rolled him to the side and twisted the arm that held the gun up and behind him.

Toby shrieked and lashed out with his free hand connecting with her neck where the bullet had grazed her, and she felt a shaft of pain fly through her body.

Blood was flowing from the wound, but she was pretty sure that since she was still capable of moving that it hadn't hit her arteries.

She twisted his arm up further and pressed down so he was unable to take another go at her.

“You’re bleeding,” Eli said as he dropped down beside her.

“I’m fine, handcuffs should be on the counter can you get them for me?”

“Let go of me,” Toby growled.

Twisting his arm up further he yelped in pain, and a sense of satisfaction filled her. It wasn't much, but it felt good to be the one inflicting pain on him.

“Here.”

Taking the cuffs from Eli, she snapped one onto the wrist she still held and then maneuvered him onto his stomach and secured the other end of the cuffs to his other wrist.

Then she sank back against the kitchen counter.

This time Toby hadn't won, she had.

He was in cuffs, she’d read him his rights, and she’d do whatever was necessary to keep him locked up.

“He shot you,” Eli sounded outraged as he pressed something to her neck.

“Grazed my neck, if I was bleeding out we’d know. Hey.” She scrambled up onto her knees when she saw blood on his shirt. “He got you too.”

“It’s fine, princess, just grazed my arm.” His hands covered her shoulders, and he eased her back so she was sitting and propped against the counter, then held a towel to her neck.

“I told you to leave, what were you thinking staying in here when that man wanted to kill you?” she said, perhaps a little louder than necessary, but as adrenalin drained from her system, fear of what might have happened was growing.

“You really think I would have left you in here alone with him?” Eli demanded, pressing harder against her wound and making her suck in a pained breath. “Sorry,” he said, lightening his grip. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come back here alone while that man was after you.”

“It’s over now,” she reminded him, glancing at Toby who was still on his stomach on the kitchen floor. The puddle of blood around him was growing, and she didn't want him to bleed out. “We need to try to stop the bleeding, and I need to call Jake, tell him what happened,” she said, moving to stand.

“I don’t want you near him,” Eli said, holding her in place. “You stay here, keep pressure on your wound, call your partner, explain what happened, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t die before you get justice for yourself and those other girls.”

Grateful that Eli understood without her having to explain that she couldn’t risk Toby dying before he was charged and was forced to face what he’d done, she closed her eyes and rested her head back.

It was over.

Never again would she have to go to bed at night knowing that the Coffin Killer might have his next victim in his clutches.

Never again would she have to worry about coming home to find another letter bragging about a child’s murder waiting for her.

“Here, can you hold this with the cast on?” Eli asked as he gently lifted her casted arm and put her fingers on the towel.

“Yeah, I got it.” It was awkward but even with the cast she could use her fingers to put pressure on the wound.

“And here’s your phone.” He pressed her phone into her other hand and then he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You're something else, you know that? Seeing you take down a man twice your size is something I won't ever forget.”

“I had all the motivation in the world,” she said softly, opening her eyes to stare into Eli’s. There wasn't anything she wouldn’t do to make sure nothing happened to him.

11:23 A.M.

“I missed you,” Eli said, walking into Florence’s hospital room, dragging her into his arms, and kissing her.

“I missed you, too,” she said, settling against his chest and tucking her head under his chin.

Because of the shooting and the fact that both of them had heard Toby Lane’s confession, they’d been separated once the cops showed up.

He’d been going out of his mind worrying that Florence’s injury was worse than they’d thought, and having to give his statement and answer a million questions was torture.

All he’d wanted was to see with his own eyes that she was alive and okay, to hold her and kiss her, then take her home and try to forget that this nightmare ever happened.

As far as he was concerned, it was time to pack up Florence’s things, cancel the lease on her apartment, and she could stay with him at the hotel until the furniture arrived and they could move into the penthouse. He didn't want to wait any longer, he could have lost her today.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked. He smoothed a hand down her hair, stroking the length of her spine, before settling it on her hip, keeping her close.

“Beyond ready. I hate hospitals. I know it’s only midday, but I'm exhausted. Since my place is a crime scene, do you want to go back to your hotel room and crash for a while?”

“I hope by crash you don’t mean just sleep,” he teased.

“I think I have enough energy for a few other things,” she said with a giggle.

“So when will CSU be done with your place?”

“I’ll be able to get back in there tomorrow. Why?”

“I thought we could pack your stuff up and get it ready to move.”

“Move it where?” Florence leaned back so she could see him.

“Well, temporarily to the hotel, but the penthouse will be furnished and ready for us to move in within two weeks.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Her mouth quirked up on one side in a half-smile. “Because I gotta tell you, this is the least romantic way to ask someone to move in together.”

“Sorry, guess we’re both exhausted. Florence, I can't stand spending another night without you in my bed, would you please move in with me?”

She laughed. “That was a little better, but still not your best work. Are you just asking because of what happened today?”

“No, princess, I already bought an engagement ring so no, this isn’t spur of the moment, I was just waiting till you were ready before I asked.”

Her eyes bulged. “You bought an engagement ring already?”

“Florence, I was ready to propose after our first date. I would have if I thought you’d have said yes. I can't wait for us to live together, to get married, have a family. Once we’re married, you’ll be able to quit your job so I won't have to worry about you anymore.”

“Wait. What did you just say?”

“You can't stay a cop.”

“Excuse me? I can't stay a cop? Why not?” she demanded, pushing out of his arms and planting her hands on her hips.

“Why would you want to? In the two weeks we’ve known each other you’ve been attacked three times by two different serial killers, one of whom has been stalking you for the last two decades.

Florence, I’ve already lost my brother and both my parents, I can't lose you too.” He took a step toward her, but she backed up.

“Eli, I love my job. It’s all I've wanted to do since I was eight years old, and the cops working my case showed me more care and compassion than any other adult ever had. I'm not quitting my job.” Her tone of voice said it was final, but he couldn’t let it go, the idea of losing Florence filled him with dread.

How could he live his life without her in it?

“Okay, I understand that, I do, but surely, you can understand where I'm coming from.” He wasn't being unreasonable about this. He wasn't. Right? “It’s not like you’ll have to work, I make more than enough to take care of you.”

“So what exactly do you expect me to do all day while you go off to work? Get a massage, my nails done, go shopping, have tea and sandwiches with your friends’ trophy wives?” Florence’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Well, no, of course not. If you want to have a job you can do something else.” He hadn't really thought this through, all he knew was that the idea of Florence getting killed on the job nearly paralyzed him.

Every time he thought about it all he could see was a gun pointed at her and her covered in blood.

How could he kiss her goodbye every morning knowing that she might not come home to him?

“And what, pray tell, is an acceptable job for me to have?”

“I don’t know. Anything that doesn’t involve you facing down killers every day.”

“You just want me to sit in your penthouse, and make myself pretty while I wait for you to dress me up and take me out to one of your fancy balls or something. This was exactly what I was afraid of. We come from two completely different worlds. I like being a cop, it means everything to me, and you want me to give it up so I can be at your beck and call whenever you have time for me in your busy schedule.”

“That’s not what this is about,” he snapped, his temper rising, a little voice in the back of his head was telling him to stop talking, that he was making this worse, but he couldn’t stop.

Fear had taken over his brain and he couldn’t shut it off.

“I would never treat you like that, and you know it.

This is about me not wanting to be picking out your coffin and thinking about what I'm going to say for your eulogy.”

“I'm not going to die.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Really? Because in less than two weeks you were nearly run down by a car, knocked unconscious in your apartment, and held at gunpoint. So you can see where I'd get the idea that your job is dangerous.”