The low buzzing sound pushed through Charlie’s consciousness the next morning. Hang on, was it morning? She opened one eye and squinted out into the darkness. Crap, it was still pitch black outside. Though that didn’t mean much. At this time of year, the sun wouldn’t rise fully until they were already on shift. A hard body next to her—presumably Shane—groaned, and his hand shot out and felt around for the phone. He finally found it, picking it up and stopping the infernal buzzing against her wooden bedside table. She leaned over and read the time over his shoulder . . . five-fucking-thirty a.m. Definitely too early for any sane person to be calling. Good thing it was Mason.

Her grin faded away and a brand-new rock took up residence in her stomach. Just why was Mason calling before the sun was even up? Before she could ask Shane, he sat up, swinging his legs over the bed, and stood as he swiped to answer. Despite the nerves clawing their way through her gut, Charlie couldn’t help but admire the view of his naked ass as Shane padded into her living room. Where she couldn’t hear him. She sat up quickly and grabbed a robe, sliding into it before following, but by the time she’d caught up, he’d already hung up the phone.

“Everything alright?” Charlie kept her voice light, but she could feel the frown on her face and her forehead wrinkling in concern. She probably wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Shane. That man could read her like a book.

Shane let out a breath. “Mason asked if I can work this shift. No heavy lifting,” he added when he saw the look on her face. “They’re short staffed and they need a paramedic on the rig.”

Charlie let out a breath of her own as the rock melted away. “You’ll be careful?”

“Of course, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” His gaze roamed over her.

Charlie knew that face—he was assessing her. She swatted at his chest. “I’m fine.”

He picked up his phone. “HQ was able to find an EMT to fill the shift, but I’m sure if I call Mason back, he could shuffle the rosters.” He looked critically at her again. “Are you ready to come back?”

Was she? Her first instinct was to say Hell, yeah. A solid amount of sleep had done wonders to her headache. Medically, she was no worse off than Mr. Sprained Shoulder, but what about her mind? She paused, sinking into the chair. On one hand, she’d like nothing more than getting back to her normal routine, heading to the firehouse for shift like she always did. On the other hand, the thought of stepping back inside that building scared the crap out of her. Despite Shane’s assurances the night before, she was still incredibly nervous about seeing the guys after she’d pulled her failed disappearing act. What if they were angry with her for that? Or maybe they were mad at her about what happened to the chief. Maybe they blamed her for bringing an arsonist to town. Except Darryl Scranton wasn’t really an arsonist. He’d only done that to get to her. She shivered. No, he wasn’t an arsonist. He was a fucking serial killer! How would she know if the next call she took, if the next anything she took, would be a real patient or him lying in wait, ready to finish the job once and for all?

Shane sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. “You’re not ready,” he said in a quiet voice.

She shook her head, hating herself for it, even though it was the truth. “Not yet.”

His arms tightened around her. “It’s okay, Charlie. It’ll be okay for however long you need. With all of us.” He pinned her with his gaze, loving as it was concerned. “No one blames you for any of this.”

“But—”

“If you don’t trust that, then just trust in me. Can you do that?”

She looked back at Shane, holding his gaze. His eyes were warm, and his body nearly wrapped around hers. He was so much more than her colleague, always had been, really. First her best friend, and now her lover. He was safe, home. She could trust that.

“There’s my girl.” He smiled and chucked her chin. “Do you think you could come by the station, even if you don’t work today?”

Her eyes drifted closed as she fought to get the residual fear under control. She could do this.

“Charlie? Would you feel better if you went down to see Scott instead? I don’t like the idea of you staying here alone, but he could fill you in on the case and maybe talk about the next steps. I know you. You’ll feel better when there’s a plan in place.”

She smiled. That she could do. She nodded and he leaned in and kissed her, taking her mouth in yet another delicious kiss. Every touch of his hands or skin on hers aroused her more than any other man ever had. She couldn’t wait to explore him more, to experience everything Shane had to offer. But first, they had to take out Darryl Scranton. It was amazing how, locked in Shane’s embrace, his name lost a little of its power. Maybe soon, he’d be nothing but a bad memory.

Shane pulled away. “You go shower and get ready, and I’ll call Scott, make sure he’s there and expecting you.” He picked up his phone again as she stood. “If you don’t want to go near the firehouse, that’s okay, but I won’t have time to drop you off before I need to leave.” He tapped at the screen. “I could get Scott to come over here and get you?”

Charlie shook her head. She’d been reliant on everyone else driving her around too much the last couple of days. It was time she got back on her own two feet. Finding the strength to stand on her own again was the first step to taking this bastard down. “I’ll leave when you do and drive myself over to the station.”

Shane’s gaze was sharp. “Promise me you’ll go straight there. No stopping.”

She crossed her heart with a finger. “I promise.”

His eyes softened and he kissed her again. Damn, that man could start her heart racing with just a look. “Okay. Go get ready. I’ll make the call.”

* * *

Charlie pulled out of the driveway immediately behind Shane, waving at him as he pulled out on the road and turned left to head to the station. She’d always liked that her apartment was so close to 81, but today she wished that she’d been the one with a shorter drive. But then that would mean stepping inside the firehouse doors, and she definitely wasn’t ready for that. Maybe when this was all over, she could look the guys in the face again without guilt taking her under.

She took a deep breath and turned the opposite direction. She was fine. It was day, the sun was most of the way up, and she was hardly alone. She’d drive the twenty minutes to the police station and meet with Scott, and then everything would be fine.

And everything was fine, for about fifteen minutes into the drive, until she hit the roadworks sign. A very helpful man with a stop sign merely shrugged at her and pointed her down the detour when she told him she had to keep going. Charlie pulled over to the side of the road and pulled out her phone. Ten minutes until Scott was expecting her. She could call. No, she’d already put him out enough yesterday, making him practically carry to her to the car and drive her to Shane’s after that God-awful phone call had come through. Charlie waved at the road worker brandishing the detour sign and turned her car down the side road. It was broad daylight now, it was still Monroe . . . she’d be fine.

And she was. Until she came around a bend and plowed her car straight into the side of an SUV parked perpendicularly across the road. Her airbags deployed as she jerked forward, making her still-tender head feel like it had connected with concrete, rather than the steering wheel.

Fuck!

She sat up, blinking to try to disperse her now-blurry vision. Even in her scrambled mind, she knew that a second blow to the head—relatively minor though it was—was not a good idea so soon after the last one. This was going to mean more time off work.

If she ever made it back to work.

She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs and the thought at the same time. Of course she was going to make it back. Whoever that was, parked in front of her, their car was now disabled, too. They weren’t going anywhere. She’d just pick up her phone and call for help, and it would all be over. She typed a quick text to Shane, telling him she’d been in an accident. At least, that’s what she hoped it said. Her fingers were trembling from the adrenaline, and her vision still wasn’t entirely clear.

Her car door wrenched open with a terrible screech as metal grated on metal, the edge of it turned in on itself from the accident. Charlie jumped, dropping her phone down into the foot well. She cursed, but then looked up and froze.

Darryl Scranton’s grinning face looked down at her.

“Hello, Charlotte.”

She pushed out, kicked, anything she could manage. None of it mattered. She was trapped in her goddammed seat, the belt tight against her chest. Why wasn’t Scranton injured? Hell, why was he standing on the side of the road without a scratch on him?

“I was just waiting for you to come along. Perfect timing. Much better than last time we met.” He tsk-tsked. “That was a frightful night.” Charlie felt something drip off her chin, and she lifted a hand, swiping away angrily. She refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. “Oh, my dear,” he said. “You don’t have to worry. You’re going to help me make it right. It will all be over soon.”

He reached into a back pocket and pulled out a flip knife, then snapped it open with a quick flick of his wrist.

Charlie froze, her blood turning to ice in her veins and sealing her body to the seat. She couldn’t move, even if she could get free of the car. Hell, she couldn’t even scream. All she could do was stare at the knife, which was glinting as it caught the sunlight just as it had that night in the moonlight. Her mind wandered off into ridiculousness, as if it refused to acknowledge what was going on right in front of her.

Perhaps that was smarter. Perhaps she should let it.

One should feel a lot different from the other—sunlight to moonlight. The sun should be warm, comforting, like when she’d been wrapped in Shane’s arms. This sun wasn’t anything other than hard and harsh, blinking off the knife that was in the hands of the murderer, the serial killer, who had her life in his hands . . . again.

Scranton leaned forward, the knife angled down, and Charlie held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. She refused to watch it. Instead she brought Shane’s face to the forefront of her mind. If these were her last seconds on the earth, then she refused to let Darryl Scranton’s be the last face she saw. Instead, she would be with Shane, remembering what his touch felt like, happy in his company, until the end came. She could only hope Darryl made it quick.

She felt a jerk, and then a short, sharp pressure. Charlie waited for the world to tumble away, but there was nothing. She hovered for what seemed like an age, until suddenly the hard asphalt of the road rushed up to meet her. It grazed her cheek, the sharp burst of pain forcing her eyes open and bringing her back to reality. What the hell was she doing outside her car? Was this some kind of weird limbo, where she’d be forced to watch her attempt at escape over and over again as it played out in endless possibilities?

She turned her head. Her seatbelt. Seconds before, it had been trapping her in the car. Now it swung free, the ragged end flapping in the light breeze. All the breath in her lungs left in a whoosh. Oh, God, the knife. He’d cut the seatbelt.

“Never you mind, Charlotte,” Scranton said. “You have a debt to pay first. When it finally comes, it won’t be fast.”