J Saint - Collateral Damage

How about all three to the max. Normal reaction to being attacked. Thank God she had left the boys with Angie. To have had them in the middle of this unbelievable nightmare playing out was-dear God-unfathomable. A man with a gun had come to her house, was shooting at her and throwing tear gas!

What would she have done if the Jack hadn't shown up?

She'd yet to figure out what to make of him. If Jack's questions about Bill were connected to Jack's military position, then why wasn't Jack in uniform? And was it customary to show up on her doorstep armed with a gun?

And whether she wanted to admit it or not, having Jack thrust his face beneath the shower's spray had sent a shock of sexual need straight to her core. There was just something about having his electric gaze intent on her that heated her inside and out. Not to mention his chiseled jaw and full mouth. The strength of her hot flash had scared the living daylights out of her. How could she even feel that in the middle of the situation she was in?

Through everything he had been cool, calm and capable with capital Cs. She was very grateful to him, but anything else she had better pull the plug on. She didn't know who he was or what he wanted from her.

Still, what would have happened to her without him? The shudder that wracked her spine at that thought had everything to do with shock from the intruding violence and nothing to do with her wet state beneath the blowing AC vent.

Her gaze shot upward. Tear gas would get into the central air system and spread everywhere. She quickly climbed onto the sink and stretched to reach the vent's lever, but couldn't. What little exposure she'd experienced had been horrible until she'd reached the water and washed away the burn. The thought of suffering more of the same was terrifying. Determined to reach the shut off valve, she moved the wicker clothes hamper over to the sink, planning on hefting it onto the vanity top and lay it on its side for as stepping stool to reach the vent.

But then she spied the towel bar and had a better idea. After wrangling the wooden dowel free, she climbed back on top of the counter, and shoved the vent off with the stick.

Before she could get down, an explosion outside shook the house. Startled, she teetered on disaster and lost the battle. She landed on the wicker hamper in a painful mini-explosion of dried straw and plastic. The ceramic toilet lid she'd placed on the edge of the counter fell to the floor and broke into a dozen pieces. It came within inches of conking her on the head. Stunned, she couldn't do anything more than blink as Sam and Sasha came over and licked her face, whining their concern.

What in God's name had happened outside? She didn't bother to brush off the straw as she rolled out of the pile of wicker rubble and ran to the door. It was all she could do to keep from opening it and just force her ear to the crack. Was Jack all right?

Jack jumped to his feet within seconds of the explosion, his ears ringing. In a glance he saw the black-clad figure escaping toward the golf course, but couldn't chase him down. What if Lauren had left the bathroom? She'd be a pin-cushion of glass if she been anywhere near the French doors. He had to check on her and the SOB had known it too.

The damage to the patio's brick and stone was minimal, but the glass-paneled French doors were toast, and anyone unlucky to be within five meters of the blast would be shredded with glass shards.

Jack ran like hell to get inside the house to Lauren, thankful he didn't find her or the dogs lying in a pool of blood. He banged on the bathroom door and shouted her name. Where in the hell were the cops?

The door swung open immediately and her gaze ran over him from head to toe. It might as well have been her hands for the effect it had on him. His relief to find her unharmed was just as strong.

"What happened?" she asked.

The dogs tried to barrel out of the bathroom, and he blocked their escape with his body, stepping into the doorway. This put him even closer to Lauren and the scent of lavender soap eased over him. She must have washed from head to toe, clothes and all. The see-through effects of her wet T-shirt were covered with a towel hung about her neck. He breathed deep before speaking. "Better to keep the dogs in here while we talk. There's shattered glass everywhere out there." He pulled a piece of wicker from her hair and furrowed his brow.

"Don't ask." She blew the straw from his fingers. "Just tell me what happened."

"A flashbang."

"A flash what? Where's the gunman?"

"He took off for the greener pastures of the fairway at the moment. A flashbang is non-lethal grenade meant to stun combatants for a few minutes. A bright flash blinds opponents and then a loud explosion messes with the fluid in the ear, disorienting them. I think this guy added an extra umph to the package, because the glass all across the back, basement level of the house is shattered. Let's get out of here."

"The police-"

"Aren't here yet. We're not waiting on them either. The shooter could come back and your safety is top priority." He took hold of the dogs' collars and let the bathroom door fall open. Only then did he see the busted hamper and toilet lid. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Lauren.

"I told you not to ask," she said, pointing the towel bar at him. She didn't hold the stick like someone trained in warfare. Still, she managed to make the dowel look threatening. Then again, every smart man knew any weapon in a woman's hand made it twice as dangerous.

"Follow me." He avoided the shattered glass by going to the side windows he'd crawled through earlier. Pausing while in the relative safety of the house, he studied Lauren a moment, his mind clearing enough from his initial adrenaline rush to realize he needed a handle on the situation before he went any farther.

Not that he wasn't already past the point of walking away, he thought, gazing into her troubled blues. He was thinking things he had no business imagining, which was a step away from doing. And he'd killed her husband. He winced beneath the rip of guilt, wondering if he should tell her. A fact like that was a game changer and he'd yet to find out what game they were in. "You want to tell me what your secret admirer is after? He obviously didn't find it when he trashed your house."

Lauren stared back at Jack. She didn't know what to think of the savage emotion that had gripped his features for a moment. Though it had been but an instant, she'd seen beneath his cool mask and the emotions there were turbulent. She took a mental step back, glad she still carried the towel bar. "I don't know."

And she really didn't know what was going on, except Bill seemed to be a common factor. If he wasn't already dead, then she was fast approaching the point that she wanted him to be. Well, that wasn't exactly true, but she'd really like to clean his clock.

Jack scoffed at her answer as he leaned back and scanned the area outside the open window. He managed to do all of that and change the clip in his lethal gun at the same time. Whatever he saw or didn't see outside satisfied him, because he faced her and leaned his shoulders back against the wall as if unhurried.

"So. Everything has been fine except today you find your house destroyed and a man appears out of nowhere gunning for you, right?"

Everything fine? Lauren thought. Things hadn't been fine for a couple of years. "It's more complicated than that," she finally said. "And some of it is personal. As far as the house, this guy must be the same one who broke in last night. The dogs chased him off, but he had to have come back after the police and I left and ransacked the place without the cruisers patrolling the neighborhood detecting him. Not a real confidence booster. They gave me an all was quiet report this morning."