Lena Diaz - Tennessee Takedown

“You’re cold.” He shoved his gun in the holster and started to unstrap his Kevlar vest as if to wrap it around her.

She placed her hand on his, stopping him. “No. That’s all you have to keep yourself warm. You already gave up your shirt for me. I’ll not have you freeze to death by giving me your vest.”

He nodded. “At least this cave is dry. I’d start a fire but it would be a beacon to the gunmen. Come on. Sit and we’ll huddle together to get warm.”

The images that conjured in her mind had her feeling warm all over.

“I promise I’ll behave,” he added, as if he thought she might be worried about his intentions.

Ashley snorted. “Don’t expect me to make the same promise.”

He chuckled and pulled her closer. “Are you always this shy, or am I special for some reason?”

Oh, he was definitely special, but no way was she saying that.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LENA DIAZwas born in Kentucky and has also lived in California, Louisiana and Florida, where she now resides with her husband and two children. Before becoming a romantic suspense author, she was a computer programmer. A former Romance Writers of America Golden Heart ®finalist, she has won a prestigious Daphne du Maurier award for excellence in mystery and suspense. She loves to watch action movies, garden and hike in the beautiful Tennessee Smoky Mountains. To get the latest news about Lena, please visit her website, www.lenadiaz.com.

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Thank you, Allison Lyons and Nalini Akolekar.

This one is for Sean and Jennifer, and the fun memories of horseback riding and white-water rafting in Tennessee. Exploring the Smoky Mountains with you was a true joy. Looking forward to many more years of happy memories to look back on.

Am so very proud of both of you. Love you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Ashley edged farther under the desktop in the cubicle, her fingers clutching the phone to her ear, her knees scraping against the coarse commercial carpet. Breathe...in, out, in, out. Focus, listen. Where is he?

Her breaths wheezed between her teeth, making a sharp whistling sound.

Calm down. He’ll hear you if you don’t calm down.

“Why don’t I hear any sirens yet?” she whispered to the nine-one-one operator.

“They’re on the way, ma’am. Is the shooter still in the building?”

“I’m not sure. I think so.”

“Stay where you are. Stay on the line. The police will be there soon.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone. That’s the same thing the operator had told her ten minutes ago—after the shooter killed Stanley Gibson.

They’d both been standing by the copier, chatting about nothing in particular while the machine spit out reports for their next meeting. A soft pfft sound whooshed through the air. A bright red circle bloomed on Stanley’s forehead. His eyes rolled up and he crumpled to the floor.

Ashley had stood frozen, too horrified to acknowledge what her subconscious already knew—someone had just shot one of her coworkers.

That’s when the screams began.

She’d whirled around. The shooter stood in the main aisle, his silver hair forming spikes across his head like porcupine quills. His dark gaze locked on her.

And then he smiled.

Ashley’s fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in. She ran. Around the corner, past the glass-enclosed offices the managers used. Empty. Thank God. At least half the company was out to lunch. But the rest were here, like her, trapped between the shooter and the only exit.

She kept running, to the other side of the building, to another maze of cubicles. She dove into the nearest one and grabbed the phone from the top of the desk. That was when she’d called nine-one-one.

A terrified scream echoed through the room.

Ashley’s pulse sputtered. “He’s still here,” she whispered.

“Help is on the way.”

The operator’s calm, matter-of-fact tone had Ashley clenching her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Didn’t the operator realize people were dying? Had the woman even called the police?

Leaning as far out of the cubicle as she dared, she risked a glance down the main aisle. The shooter’s progress through the offices of Gibson and Gibson Financial Services was marked by screams and shouts coming from the other side of the building.

The mournful wail of police sirens erupted outside the windows.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

“I hear sirens,” she whispered. “They’re close.”

“Yes, ma’am. Are you still in the same location?”

“I haven’t moved.”

“I’ve notified the police where you are. They’ll be there soon.”

Ashley was really starting to hate the word soon. And she also sorely regretted taking the auditing contract in Destiny, Tennessee. If she were in her home office in Nashville right now, she wouldn’t be cowering in a cubicle with a crazed shooter on the loose.

One of the young temps stuck her head out of another cubicle several aisles away. What was her name? Karen? Kristen? Ashley had only met her once and couldn’t remember. The girl’s face was ghostly pale, her eyes wide with terror as she silently begged Ashley for help.

Ashley’s stomach jumped as if she’d plunged down a steep drop on a roller coaster. The girl couldn’t be more than nineteen. Ashley had to help her. But how? Which cubicle was safer? Should she run to the girl, or have the girl run to her?

She sucked in a breath. Oh, no. Spiky gray hair showed above a row of cubicles down a side aisle. The shooter. And he was heading straight toward the temp.

Ashley frantically motioned for the girl to hide.

The girl’s brow furrowed and she raised her hands in the air, not understanding what Ashley was trying to tell her.

In a few more steps, the gunman would be able to see them both.

“Go back,” Ashley mouthed, desperately pointing at the approaching shooter.

He rounded the corner. Ashley ducked back behind the partitioned wall.

A high-pitched scream echoed through the room, then abruptly stopped.

She clamped her hand over her mouth. No, no, no.

A shoe scraped across the carpet. Ashley froze. A swishing sound whispered through the air, as if someone had brushed up against one of the fabric-covered cubicle walls. Close.

Too close.

“Ma’am, the police are evaluating the situation,” the operator said through the phone in her monotone voice.

Ashley quickly covered the receiver. Her pulse slammed in her ears as she waited, listened. Was the shooter the one who’d made that swishing noise? Had he heard the operator? Her hand shook as she gingerly hung up the phone. She couldn’t wait for the police anymore. If she didn’t do something, right now, she’d be as dead as Stanley Gibson.