Page 55 of Stormswept Colorado (Hart County #3)

“You mean the record producer guy? I’d seen him in photos with you. Just another creep who wanted to hurt you. I was happy to get rid of him for you. All those other men just want to use you. I’m the only one who really loves you, Ayla. The only one who really knows you.”

Jarod stood up from the bench. Started toward me.

“Don’t,” I said.

“You and I belong together. We’ll hide out here, and then we can run away. Like you did before, but the two of us together this time. This is how it was always supposed to be. You and me.” He held out the hand that wasn’t holding the gun.

“But I don’t want this, Jarod.” This was my last, desperate hope that somehow he’d listen. “I want to decide my future for myself. Please let me go. ”

Anger flared in his eyes. He had no intention of ever setting me free.

He took another step toward me.

With a scream, I lunged at him. Grabbed for the wrist holding his gun and pushed it up to aim at the ceiling, while I slammed my knee hard into his groin.

The gun went off. Using all my weight, I shoved Jarod back against the stand holding the dumbbells.

He flew backward, his head hitting the edge of the washing machine.

My ears were ringing from the gunshot. Jarod had dropped the gun, but I couldn’t see where it had gone. He was lying on the ground. Writhing like he was in pain.

I just had to get out of there.

Blood rushed in my ears as my feet pounded on the basement steps. I slammed the door to the basement closed, then grabbed a chair and tried to wedge it beneath the doorknob. No idea if that would hold, but it was the best I could do.

Scanning the kitchen, I looked for the keys to the SUV. But I didn’t see them. Shit, they were probably downstairs in his pocket.

Run , my instincts told me. Just get away .

I couldn’t stay another minute inside this house. But I spotted a knife block on the counter. I grabbed a long black handle. Steel glinted.

I charged through the front door. The gravel stung my bare feet. Holding on to the knife, I sprinted toward a grove of trees.

Then I realized what I was doing. Running and hiding, once again. Like I had done so many times before. I no longer blamed myself. I had done the best I could, and Teller had helped me to see that.

But right now, I had a choice.

It was time to fight .

I had to be smart about it, though. Going back inside and confronting Jarod was a bad idea. No, I had to take advantage of the element of surprise. Like he had done when he’d shown up disguised as a policeman earlier .

Instead of the grove of trees, I looked around for a hiding place closer to the house. Where I could watch the front door. I figured Jarod would come that way, since I’d left it open.

There was a small shed to one side of the house. With my breaths loud in my ears, I ran toward it and opened the shed door by just a crack. He would think I’d gone inside.

There was a vibration in the air. Maybe a crash or a yell. Hard to decipher over the ringing in my ears. But it made my heart skip a beat.

He was coming.

My hair tossed as I searched for a place to wait. Where I’d be close enough to strike at the right moment. My gaze caught on a crawl space beneath the porch. It was in shadow.

I hurried to the crawl space and hunched over to get inside, disappearing into the shadows. My fist gripped the handle of the knife.

Jarod stumbled down the porch steps above me. “Ayla, get back here! You can’t run from me!” The words were muffled, but I could make them out.

I edged back further as he walked into the yard.

A gap between the porch steps gave me a view of him.

Jarod had a red mark on his forehead where he’d smashed into the wall.

He’d found the gun. It was in his hand again, held out in front of him.

Finger on the trigger. His gaze flung left and right, looking for me.

Jarod spotted the shed. I flinched, afraid he’d see me back here, but he went for the door I’d left cracked open. Just as I’d expected. The shed shook as he threw the door wide.

Gripping the knife, I waited, about to dash out of my hiding spot. I planned to attack as soon as he stepped out of the shed.

But then the muffled sound of sirens reached my ears.

A half-dozen police vehicles swerved onto the driveway, coming in fast. They fanned out, stopping in a semi-circle in front of the house. Within seconds, doors had opened and guns emerged.

“Get down on the ground! ”

“Put down the weapon!”

My heart raced. I searched for Teller’s face and saw him. His vehicle had been the first to roar up the drive. Then his voice rang out, loud enough that I could hear every word.

“Jarod Carpenter. It’s over. Where’s Ayla?” Teller’s words were harsh, each one raw with emotion.

There was a beat of silence, as if time had frozen. I couldn’t move, just watching from the shadows beneath the porch.

Jarod put his gun to his head.

“No!” I cried. Dropping the knife in the dirt, I crawled out on my hands and knees. Emerged into the sunlight. “Jarod, don’t. You don’t have to do this. We can all walk away.”

Jarod’s gaze jerked toward me. The gun stayed aimed at his temple.

I knew I was being reckless. Teller would probably be furious with me later. But right now, all I saw was the twelve-year-old kid I’d used to babysit. Who’d left a bouquet of birthday flowers on my porch just to make me smile. Who’d comforted me and made me laugh when I was sad.

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” I said.

He started to lower the gun.

But a split second later, Jarod raised the weapon and aimed it at me.

Multiple gunshots rang out. Jarod’s body convulsed. He took several steps back, arms flailing as spots of red appeared on his forehead and chest, and collapsed onto the porch stairs. His finger was still tangled on the trigger guard of his gun. But he hadn’t fired.

“Ayla!”

Teller ran toward me. Scooped me into an embrace, tucking my face against his shoulder. There was too much noise. People suddenly surrounding us.

But I focused on the feeling of his heart beating against me. Like it was a beacon showing me the way back home.