“Lucas!”

It wasn’t until he saw her lift the gun—where had she gotten a gun?—that Lucas realized something was wrong.

Well, he’d known there was a hell of a lot wrong, but somehow it hadn’t seemed to matter anymore when he’d looked up to see her on the porch.

She’d smiled at him, and he’d been drawn to her like a starving man. She was everything that was good and right in his world, and she was calling him home. The blood on his hands hadn’t mattered when she smiled at him like that.

But then her expression had changed—fear?—and she’d screamed his name and lifted the gun, and that’s when Lucas knew everything was about to go wrong.

Seriously wrong.

His instinct was to turn, to see if Pierce was still a threat, but he knew he didn’t have time. He would have to trust her.

So he met her terrified eyes, saw the determined tilt of her jaw, and threw himself to the side.

Three gunshots, almost simultaneous, and time slowed.

He grunted when he felt one round tear open the flesh of his upper arm from behind.

One.

Must’ve been from Pierce’s rifle—When had he grabbed it?

Shannon’s revolver had spat flame as well. Two.

But where had the third shot come from?

Then he hit the ground.

Pain flared in his side where he’d been burned by the rifle, and in his arm where he’d been shot. Was the bullet still in there? Impossible to tell.

Was Pierce dead, or did he need to worry about rolling out of the way of another bullet? Getting dirt in the wound would be a small price to pay for staying alive.

Without even having time to groan, Lucas dragged his eyes toward the house. Shannon was still standing on the porch, still holding the revolver in both hands, still looking shocked as hell. Her delicate frame seemed to shiver, and her birthmark stood out against her abnormally pale skin.

Was she about to faint?

When Cora appeared behind her, Lucas knew his wife would be fine, but he needed to hold her. She’d saved him! She’d shot Pierce.

As he heaved himself to his knees, Lucas glanced at his enemy. Yes, Pierce was dead—there was a big hole in the man’s chest.

She’d done that? God, his sweet little wife had killed a man? For him?

This time he did groan, thinking what it would mean to her to have done that.

Loving someone means you will do whatever is necessary to protect them.

Verrick’s words echoed in his head. Shannon had protected him. Did she love him?

His vague musings were cut off when someone grabbed him from behind—his uninjured arm—and wrenched him to his feet. He tensed to defend himself, but when his unknown assailant spun him around, he relaxed.

It was Verrick.

“Lucas!”

That was all he said, but it was enough. The other man grasped him by his shoulders, his grip tight enough to make Lucas wince, but the relief in Verrick’s eyes spoke volumes.

He’d been scared?

Scared for Lucas?

Remembering what Shannon had said about Verrick loving him once, and wondering if that meant he could still love him, Lucas forced a smile. “I’m alright. My wife saved me.”

The older man was breathing heavily, his eyes skimming over Lucas, as if making sure he wasn’t lying. But then he nodded, squeezed Lucas’s arms once, and stepped back. He didn’t say anything, and Lucas was glad for it. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this man, and wasn’t prepared to have to decide yet.

And then he wasn’t thinking about Verrick, or Pierce, or Thomas Ryan at all, because Shannon had thrown herself off the porch and into his arms.

The rest of the world faded as he wrapped himself around her, not caring about the dust and the blood that covered him. He buried his head in her sweet-smelling hair and inhaled deeply, feeling the terror and tension ease.

She was safe. Their baby was safe. He was safe, although it had taken a sacrifice from his wife he wouldn’t have asked for.

Her small arms snaked around his middle, and he felt the fullness of her as she pressed her body against his. The body that would soon swell with their child, and would comfort him for years to come.

He squeezed his eyes shut and refused to think how close he’d come to losing her. “I love you, Shannon.”

She pulled away just enough to tilt her head back and meet his eyes. She didn’t say anything, but he could see her confusion in the way her brows tilted in and her lips tightened.

Didn’t she believe him? Couldn’t she see how much she meant to him?

He dropped a kiss to her forehead and suddenly felt inexplicably buoyant. He loved her, and thanks to her, he now had a lifetime to prove it. But—he tried to lift his right arm to brush away a strand of her hair, and instead winced in pain—maybe not right now.

“You’re hurt!” she gasped, concern replacing the doubt on her face. “I didn’t realize…” She was fumbling for his arm. “Let me see!”

Lucas’s laugh was tinged with pain, but he couldn’t help it. He was alive! “It’s fine. I’m fine, thanks to you.” He pulled Shannon against his side with his good arm. “You can fuss over me inside.”

“Cora will have to help. Cora!”

Lucas followed her gaze to see his sister-in-law staring down at them from the porch. No, she wasn’t staring at them, she was staring at Verrick. And interestingly, he was staring back just as intently. At Shannon’s call though, Cora dragged her attention back to the embracing couple and raised a brow questioningly. As if she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary about the last few minutes’ proceedings.

“Are you alright?” Shannon asked. “I heard the bullet hit something behind me?”

Cora grinned. “I’m fine. Looks like we’re all fine, actually.” Her gaze flickered around the yard once, before landing back on Lucas. “But…”

Shannon stiffened. “What?”

“I’m sorry, but Pierce’s second bullet, the one that, you know, zipped past us?”

The one that had burned its way out of the barrel against Lucas’s side while they’d been grappling? Yeah, he knew, and found himself nodding along with Shannon to Cora’s question.

“Well,” she continued, suddenly looking rather concerned. “I’m really sorry, but it went in through the open door, and…”

Lucas tightened his hold on his wife. “What?”

“That vase that belonged to your mother? The one I moved to the little table in the foyer? I’m sorry, but it shattered that.”

A broken vase?

A broken vase and a small hole in his arm were all they had to worry about from this misadventure? Well, that and a million bruises, but that was all. Things could’ve been much worse.

He felt the chuckles building in his chest, and didn’t bother to stop the smile that spread across his face. When Shannon looked up at him quizzically, he squeezed her again.

“I always hated that vase.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but hers wasn’t the voice he heard.

“Me too.”

Lucas’s head whipped around at Verrick’s bland agreement, and their eyes met in recognition of their shared opinion. Verrick had lived here at Sunset Valley years ago, after all. Lucas vowed one day soon, he’d sit down with this man and find out answers.

For now, though, they were all safe and the danger was past. The laughter built inside him again, and he wondered if this was just the aftermath of the shock. But Shannon’s arms snaked around him once more, and he gave in to relief.

His arm might hurt like the blazes, and he’d been willing to become the killer he’d always despised, but his wife was safe beside him, and that’s all that mattered.