Hunt nodded. “Stay down.” He needed to call it in. “Is anyone hurt?”
“My dad’s bleeding!” a girl yelled. “Help!”
Shit.
Savannah couldn’t stop shaking. She dragged in some deep breaths, reminding herself over and over that the danger was gone.
Hunt moved into a crouch and pulled a dangerous-looking handgun out. She watched him scanning the street through the shattered windows.
Savannah jumped up. A middle-aged man was sitting against the wall, a hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood was oozing through his fingers.
She moved to the counter. The baristas were huddled on the floor behind it, terrified.
“It’s going to be okay.” She grabbed some towels and then moved toward the man. “I’m going to put this on your wound to stop the bleeding.”
The man nodded. His daughter seemed to be about ten, and was clinging to his arm. She had a face full of freckles, and looked so pale and scared.
Savannah steeled herself and looked at the man’s shoulder. Her stomach rolled a little. “Now, I’m no expert, but it looks like the bullet clipped the top of your shoulder. You should be fine.” She pressed the towel harder and hoped to hell she wasn’t lying.
Beside the man, the girl whimpered.
Hunt was striding through the store, calming people. Savannah saw the way people watched and listened to him. His authoritative, calm voice soothed them.
It soothed her jittering nerves a little, too.
“Something like this shouldn’t happen here,” the man said, voice shaky. “It’s a safe area. Olivia and I come here multiple times a week. It’s our thing. Dad and daughter coffee.”
“The police will sort it out.”
“I’m scared.” Olivia grabbed her dad’s hand.
“See that man?” Savannah nodded toward Hunt. “He’s a police detective. He catches bad guys.”
“He’ll catch the shooter?” Olivia brightened a little.
“He’ll do everything he can.” Savannah shot the girl a confident smile. Crap, she hoped it looked confident.
Moments later, several police cruisers screamed to a halt outside.
Hunt sent her one long glance, then strode out to meet the officers. She looked around. People were coming out of hiding. Some were pointing at the bullet holes, others hugging each other.
She studied the damage. The bullet holes were all clustered around the center of the store.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose.
No.
She swallowed. They were all grouped around where she and Hunt had been standing.
Her heart pounded.
It was just a coincidence. She swallowed again. Her stalker had never shot at her, or used a gun.
That she knew of.
The paramedics arrived next. Hunt pointed toward the man Savannah was helping.
The men, wearing navy-blue uniforms, headed over. One paramedic looked older—probably in his late fifties, head shaved, a graying goatee on his chin. The other one… Wow. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with lean hips. He had longish, brown hair pulled back in a stubby tail, and stubble that suited him mighty fine.
His lips were tipped in a faint smile that promised sin. And his green eyes were the exact same shade as Hunt’s.
Her gaze flicked between the two men. They looked similar, except one looked like a clean-cut, handsome, bossy cop, and the other a bad boy, who mothers warned their daughters to avoid.
“Please, step back, ma’am,” the older paramedic said. “We’ll take it from here.”
Savannah rose. She looked up at the hot Morgan paramedic. The man eyed her, his smile widening.
Then Hunter stepped up beside her and slid an arm around her waist. “Dibs.”
The paramedic’s lips twitched.
Savannah cocked her head. “Did you just call dibs on me?”
“Yes. I have two brothers. I’ve learned to stake my claim to what I want fast—the last steak, the leftovers, the front seat, whatever.”
“Did you just compare me to a steak?”
“I would never do that, beautiful,” the paramedic said. “I have way more class than that.”
“Your brother’s pretty smooth, Hunter,” she said.
Hot paramedic winked.
“And cocky,” she added.
“He was born that way. Savannah, my brother, Ryder. Ryder, my neighbor, Savannah.”
“Ah, now I know why my brother’s been grumpy about his new neighbor,” Ryder drawled.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been playing my music too loudly.”
Ryder’s lips twitched. “Beautiful, that is not his problem with you.”
Hmm, these Morgan men sure packed a punch. “And there’s a third one of you, right?”
“Camden,” Hunt said.
Ryder crouched to help his partner, teasing a smile from Olivia.
Hunt got called over by the cops.
Savannah wrapped her arms around her middle, thinking about the bullet holes again. This couldn’t be about her. Her mouth was dry, her chest tight. She hated the growing dread inside her.
She’d learned to trust her instincts. They’d kept her alive for too long.
She saw a female cop—a detective by the looks of her—stride into the coffee shop and take everything in with one swift glance. Savannah admired the woman’s dark pants and fitted white shirt. She had a badge and a gun on her belt. Her hair—a pretty combination of multiple shades of brown—was in a ponytail.
The woman hurried over to Hunt, then hugged him.
A funny sensation wound through Savannah. They looked good together, dammit. Hunt wasn’t hers. She shouldn’t feel like this.
Then another man entered the Bean.
Savannah stilled, and fought the urge to duck behind the counter. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. He totally was. He had dark good looks and dark hair, and his suit didn’t hide his muscular build.
It was that he looked dangerous. He had a vibe that told her that the man could kill everyone in the room without breaking a sweat.
She wanted to paint his face. She’d do it so he was half in shadow, and try and capture his dangerous intensity.
His gaze swept over the room and met hers, held.
Savannah looked away. When she looked back, the man was striding toward Hunt and the female detective. Then he stroked a proprietary hand down the woman’s back. It was quick, but firm.
Hmm, so the woman wasn’t after Hunt.
Not that it mattered.
“Savannah?”
Hunt and the couple moved her way.
“This is Detective Brynn Sullivan,” Hunt said.
“I’m both his colleague and his cousin,” Brynn said with a smile.
Hunt gestured. “And this is my friend, Vander Norcross.”
The dark-haired man nodded. He wasn’t a cop then, but he was something.
Savannah cleared her throat. “I’m Savannah.”
“Did you see the shooter?” Brynn asked.
Savannah shook her head. “Hunt leaped on me. I didn’t see anything.”
The couple swiveled to glance at Hunt.
“Did you hear anything?” Vander asked.
“Just the shots. Lots of people screaming and crying.” She let out a shuddering breath, then glanced at the bullet marks on the floor again.