Baby Jane Doe. Julie Miller

warmth and strength were a rare treat in her life, and for that one breath, she let herself be a woman who was sheltered and cared for.

      But that wasn’t who she was. With the next inhale, she became a cop again. And not just any cop.

      An acrid cloud of gunpowder, plaster dust and fear stung her nose. But the only thing she reacted to was the shift of hard muscles against her back and bottom.

      The instant she felt Masterson move, Shauna snatched at his arm, silently warning him to stay put. The detective could play cowboy on his own time. But not when there were hostages present. Not when the perps’ intent remained unclear.

      “Easy,” she breathed against the dusty wool of his sleeve. Though he stopped moving, the tension in his body never relaxed. “Assess the situation before we act.”

      “Everybody stay put and no one else gets hurt!” The man in the trench coat took charge. The movement of his voice indicated that he’d gone behind the counter. “Get the documents and whatever cash you can grab.”

      Documents? Shauna frowned. So this wasn’t a straight-out robbery. She should have guessed as much from an assault that had started with a precisely timed explosion.

      As the voices moved farther away, the detective began a succinct report in her ear. “The situation is you’ve got two armed men, possibly three—”

      “—the sweaty banker behind the counter?”

      “Sharp eye.” So Masterson had been suspicious of a possible setup, too. “Those guns were stashed so they could get past the guard. And who knows what’s waiting outside? That could have been an unmanned bomb, a projectile shot—”

      “These guys will have a getaway car waiting. This robbery’s too well planned not to.”

      Masterson nodded agreement. “Early-morning strike. Minimal hostage risk.”

      Shauna wriggled a few inches of freedom from beneath him. “Those hostages should be our first concern. I need to get out and help the guard.”

      She had both arms free and was pushing up before the detective cinched his arm around her waist and pulled her back into the heated curve of his body. “Look who they took out first. I don’t think these men would be too impressed to find out we’re cops.”

      Turning her cheek into the carpet, Shauna looked into Eli Masterson’s cool brown eyes. “You know who I am?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      She supposed that was the curse of having such a public face. Detective Masterson thought he was earning brownie points. Fat chance. On a more charitable note, maybe he was just being a team player. If that was the case, she wasn’t cutting him any slack. He should be obeying the chain of command.

      Shauna pried his arm from her waist. “Then chances are, they do, too. Keep your sidearm holstered and don’t try to be a hero.” She got her knees beneath her and wrenched free before Masterson could nab her again. “I’m a trained negotiator. I’ve dealt with situations exactly like this one. I’ve already paged—”

      “Backup’s already on the way,” he informed her. His hard exhale matched her own. “Stay put. Let these guys take what they want and walk out of here. They won’t get far.”

      “You two. Shut up.” The antsy thirtysomething, whose street-tough look lacked the bulk of his partner’s Kevlar vest, leveled his Smith & Wesson at Shauna’s forehead, silencing the debate. “Get behind the counter with the others.”

      But Shauna was insistent. She looked up along the gun barrel to his nervous, darting eyes. “That guard needs medical assistance before he bleeds out. I have first-aid training. You don’t want this to turn into a murder scene. Let me help.”

      Without waiting for an answer, Shauna slowly rose to her feet, keeping her eyes on his the entire time.

      “Okay. Hey! Not you, big guy.” Shauna froze as he swung his gun toward Masterson, who deliberately ignored the order and stood up beside her. “Don’t move!”

      Though he held his hands up in surrender, Masterson towered a good four or five inches over the armed man, and the cold mask of his expression didn’t so much as blink at the gun pointed his way. “I can help the other guard,” he offered.

      The man with the gun contradicted his own order and jabbed the gun into Masterson’s chest, knocking him back a step. “Get behind the counter.”

      “Get him back here. Now!” The man in the trench coat appeared to be in charge of the robbery. He left the banker to cram what stacks of bills would fit into a briefcase already stuffed with files. He pointed his snub-nosed rifle at them as he whirled around the corner. “Do what we say and live. Okay, lady—help the cop.” He shoved aside the other thief to personally back Masterson behind the counter. “You? Move!”

      Though he’d mistakenly referred to the fallen guard as a member of KCPD, Shauna wasn’t about to correct him. She hurried over to the wounded man, peeled off her jacket and pressed it against the hole in his chest, murmuring soothing words when he groaned in pain.

      The guard’s gun was still in his holster, within arm’s reach—unlike her own weapon, which was ten feet away inside her purse. Of course, she shouldn’t try to play hero, either. Not with hostages involved. Not when they were up against a semiautomatic rifle and a handgun with a fresh clip of fifteen bullets. And if they robbed the patrons, went through pockets and purses and discovered badges and guns…

      She prayed KCPD’s response time was as good as she’d claimed it to be in her last television interview.

      “Is he gonna be okay?”

      Shauna started at the perp’s voice beside her. But the sniff of gunpowder residue clinging to him and his gun kept her from feeling any compassion at his remorseful tone. She didn’t mince words. “He needs an ambulance.” She tipped her head to the side, indicating the guard lying by the shattered front door. “I need to check him, too.”

      “He’s moanin’. Breathin’ normal. So he can’t be hurt that bad.”

      “Internal injuries are hard to evaluate just by looking at a man.” She let the shooter see her bloody hand before she wiped it on her skirt and smoothed the guard’s white hair off his forehead. “Please let me call the paramedics.”

      “No can do.” She could smell the sweat, fueled by fear, on him. “We’re almost done. We’ll be out in a minute and then you can call whoever the hell you want.” He turned and shouted over his shoulder. “You got all the papers the boss wanted?”

      “Shut up, bozo!” the man in the trench coat yelled. “Why don’t you give them our names, too, while you’re at it?”

      Shauna could make out Detective Masterson’s feet sticking out from the end of the counter. He’d cooperated by obeying the command to lie facedown on the floor. Thank God he wasn’t stirring up any more trouble. She also caught a glimpse of movement outside. A uniformed officer moving some curious onlookers who’d gathered across the street. She hoped his silent arrival had escaped the thieves’ notice. And that he wasn’t alone.

      The man in the trench coat stepped over Masterson’s prone body and leveled the gun at the banker who closed and locked the briefcase. “Is that everything?”

      “Just like we…discussed.” He stuttered when he got an eyeful of the gun barrel. “What are you doing?”

      “Following orders.” He pulled the trigger.

      The banker slumped. Hostages shrieked in panic and cursed.

      “Hell, man, are you crazy?” The man with the gun next to Shauna didn’t seem to know where to point his gun now. “You said we were just gonna scare the crap out of ’em and nobody would get hurt.”

      “I lied.” The other man turned his rifle and fired.

      Shauna ducked as the shot