The knife clattered to the floor as Ellen raised both hands to her face, screaming. Mercilessly, Olivia swung the stainless steel vessel with all her strength, landing a debilitating blow to the side of Ellen’s head. The woman sank to the ground like a stone dropped into deep water.
Olivia stepped over her opponent’s sprawled legs.
A voice shouted, “FREEZE!”
It was Rawlings. He stood in Laurel’s foyer, his gun drawn and fixed on Rutherford. Two officers, both of whom had their weapons trained on Ellen’s brother, flanked the chief.
Olivia’s gaze turned to Rutherford. Her blood turned to ice.
Rutherford had a switchblade in his hand and was pointing it at Haviland’s throat. The poodle was growling a low, dangerous growl and was tensing to pounce. If he did, Rutherford’s blade would pass straight through his jugular.
“Haviland! Off!” Olivia commanded but terror made her words come out as a croak.
Rawlings stepped forward. “I will shoot you in the leg, Rutherford Donald. If you do not drop your weapon this instant so help me, I will shoot you!”
“Come, Haviland!” Olivia heard the desperation in her voice but didn’t care. “Come to me!”
The poodle obeyed. Skirting around Rutherford, he reached Olivia’s side and nudged her with his nose.
Olivia couldn’t stop the tears of relief that fell onto Haviland’s fur as she ran her panicked fingers over his body. There was no blood so he had not been cut and he didn’t flinch in pain as she examined him. His chest was slightly tender and Olivia suspected he’d taken one of Rutherford’s blows to that region, but all in all, he was well.
In turn, Haviland licked her, nuzzled her, and sniffed her wound, whining a little in concern. Olivia waited until Rutherford tossed his knife onto the rug and was promptly cuffed by one of the officers before she returned to the kitchen. She wound Laurel’s checkered dishcloth around her arm and winced as a fresh burst of pain shot up the damaged limb.
Rawlings was beside her in an instant.
He was angry. “You’re hurt.”
His eyes blazed with threads of green and gold and Olivia realized that they only had that appearance when the chief was struggling to keep his emotion in check. He found another dishcloth in a drawer and placed it over the first, applying pressure to Olivia’s wound. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding.”
Don’t look, Olivia told herself, but then she did. Blood seeped through both towels, spreading across the material in a wave of red. She felt a surge of nausea and then a rush of cloying heat. She reached out for the countertop to steady herself before she passed out altogether.
“Easy,” Rawlings whispered and put his arm around her waist. He eased her to one of the kitchen chairs. “Keep your head down. Breathe deeply.” She did as he directed but he wasn’t satisfied. “No, slow down. Innnnnnnnn. Now ouuuuuuuuuuut. Better.”
They remained like this for a full minute. Olivia had the absurd thought that they sounded like an expectant couple practicing Lamaze breathing techniques. She carefully straightened and looked at Rawlings. His face was inches from hers and his eyes had softened, returning to their muddy, pond green hue. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You came just in time.”
Rawlings glowered. “Yes, we did. That’s our job, remember? When you talked Laurel into investigating the Donald siblings, you put both of your lives in danger. All I asked you to do was to think about the meaning of the clichés! I didn’t ask you to lure the killers here!”
“They would have come for her anyway!” Olivia protested but silently felt the chief had spoken the truth. After all, the robbery victims were old enough to have attended Pampticoe High with both Ellen and Rutherford. Laurel was two years younger than the others and had only ridiculed Ellen. Her articles about the siblings may have drawn their attention to her. If she hadn’t started writing about them, it was likely they would never have remembered her at all. “Where is Laurel?” Olivia asked, needing to know that her friend was safe.
“Sitting in my car. She’s both shaken and plenty mad over having to stay behind while we charged in, but she’ll get over it.”
Olivia gave Rawlings a grateful smile. “I’m relieved she didn’t witness how this played out. By the time she comes back into the house, the Donalds will be gone and I’ll have this mess cleaned up.” She briefly gestured at the bloodsplattered floor and countertop.
She and Rawlings watched as one of Rawlings’ brawny officers fastened Ellen’s limp wrists together in front of her body using a plastic restraint and then the officer sat down beside her to wait for the paramedics to arrive.
“I like Ellen much better when she’s unconscious.” Olivia stood and wrestled with the child lock of the cabinet beneath the sink, searching for cleaning supplies.
“Get back in that chair. The only thing you’re doing is going to the hospital,” Rawlings commanded and waited until she was seated again. “This place is about to be invaded by EMTs and an army of cops. The scene must be thoroughly documented.”
“Then let Laurel take me to get stitched up,” Olivia said. “You know how slow emergency rooms are. By the time I’m finished, your team should be done here.”
Rawlings got down on his knees and put his hands on her shoulders. “Only if you promise to go straight there. No stopping to purchase a pound of raw liver for Haviland, though God knows the dog deserves it.” He glanced over at the poodle. “Well done, sir. You could show our K-9 unit a thing or two. Our department might need to look into those advanced canine training classes you took.”
Olivia was overwhelmed by the urge to kiss Sawyer Rawlings. She raised her good arm and put her palm flat against his rough cheek. “Haviland’s not my only hero,” she whispered and pulled his head toward hers. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips against his lips and felt his hand slide up the skin of her neck. It came to rest at the nape but his fingertips stretched a bit higher, gently grabbing her hair and sending a ripple of heat through her body. She responded by opening her mouth more fully, inviting him to kiss her more deeply and with more urgency.
The tread of heavy footsteps reentering the house ruined the moment. They hastily broke apart, flushed and glassy-eyed with desire.
“Put your arm around my waist,” Rawlings directed huskily.
“I am perfectly capable of walking outside without assistance, thank you,” she answered stiffly, noting that the officers were watching their chief with interest.
Rawlings frowned. “Do as I say or I will carry you out.”
Feigning reluctance, Olivia allowed Rawlings to support her, but in truth she wanted to feel his touch, no matter what the circumstances were. She leaned into him, smelling coffee and soap and the sandalwood of his aftershave, and Haviland brought up the rear, looking as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Outside, Laurel was pacing back and forth on the lawn. The cruisers bearing the Donald siblings were already gone.
“Oh, Olivia! Thank God!” Laurel ran to them, her eyes puffy from crying. She stared at the bloody dishtowels Rawlings held against Olivia’s upper arm. “What happened?”
“She has a deep laceration and needs to be taken to the hospital,” Rawlings said with perfect calm. “Can you drive her? I need to stay on site until the other officers arrive.”
Laurel nodded vigorously. “Of course!” Taking Olivia’s purse from the chief, she sprinted to the Range Rover and hopped into the driver’s seat.