Delta Force Rescue - Elle James Page 0,3

handed Briana a glass of wine.

“You’re a godsend,” Briana said, accepting the offering with a heavy sigh. “I need this and a long soak in a hot tub.”

“Go for it. I’ll be out here watching some television. I had a busy day at the office. I had to train the new hire.” She carried her own wine glass toward the living room, talking as she went. “I don’t know why I always get stuck training the new folks.”

“Because you have the most patience of anyone in that office. Who else could do it?”

Sheila turned, her lips pinched together. “You’re right. Sherry is short-tempered, Lana is too into Lana and Trent is too busy to train anyone himself.”

“Which leaves you.” Briana touched her friend’s arm. “That’s why I love you so much. You’re the best friend a girl can have. And you have the patience to listen to me vent every day.”

“Girl, I don’t know how you do it. I’d be a wreck every day.” Sheila hugged her. “Go, get that bath. I’ll be out here.”

Briana nodded, too tired to think beyond the bath and the wine. She took a sip. “I’ll be out shortly.”

“Take your time. I’ll watch the news until you’re out.”

Once in the bedroom, she dropped her purse on the nightstand, fished out her cellphone and checked for any missed calls. None. Hopefully, Alejandra and Bella were settling into the shelter.

Briana knew she was too sleepy to take a long, hot bath. Instead, she opted for a quick, hot shower, more interested in the wine and propping her feet up than falling asleep in the tub. After her shower, she dried off, stepped into a pair of leggings and was pulling her T-shirt over her head when she heard a loud banging sound from the other room. She’d just stepped out of the bathroom into her bedroom when she heard Sheila scream.

Her heart raced, and her breath hitched in her chest as she ran through her bedroom. She hadn’t closed the door all the way earlier. As she reached for the knob, her hand froze.

Through the crack, she saw a man wearing a ski mask, standing over Sheila’s crumpled body. He had a gun in his hand with a silencer attached to the end.

Sheila lay motionless on the floor, her eyes open, red liquid pooling beneath her arm.

Please, let that be wine.

Briana’s gaze went to the coffee table where Sheila’s full glass of wine remained unfinished. Her heart sank.

The man nudged Sheila with his boot.

She didn’t move, didn’t blink her wide-open eyes. Sheila lay still as death.

Briana swallowed hard on a moan rising swiftly up her throat and backed away from the door. Looking toward the window, she shook her head. She’d never get through it without the man hearing her, and the two-story drop could lead to broken bones or death. The bathroom was out of the question. He'd look there next. With nowhere else to go, Briana grabbed her cellphone from the nightstand, dropped to the floor and slid beneath the bed. She dialed 911 and prayed for a quick response, pressing the phone to her ear.

Footsteps sounded, heading into the other bedroom, fading as he moved away.

“You’ve reached 911. State the nature of your emergency.”

“My friend was shot,” she whispered.

“Is the shooter still there?” the dispatcher asked.

The footsteps grew louder as they moved toward her bedroom.

“Yes,” Briana whispered and gave her address. “Hurry, please.” She ended the call, switched the phone to silent and lay still, her gaze on the door as it swung open.

Black boots and black trousers were all Briana could see of the man as he entered the room, stalked to the en suite bathroom and flung open the door.

Briana watched as he disappeared through the doorway. She heard the sound of the shower curtain rings scraping across the metal rod. The boots reappeared, coming to a stop beside her bed. The man’s legs bent, and his heels came up as if he was lowering himself into a squat.

Her heart racing, Briana scooted silently across the floor toward the other side of the bed.

The faint sound of a siren wailed in the distance.

The legs straightened, and the boots carried him out of the room. A moment later, silence reigned in Briana’s small apartment. She lay for a long moment, counting the seconds since she last heard the sound of footsteps.

The whole time, Briana worried about her friend Sheila. Was she still alive? Had that blood only been a superficial wound? Should she