Don't Let Go Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  About the Author

  DON'T LET GO

  Rebecca Deel

  Copyright © 2019 Rebecca Deel

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Melody Simmons

  #

  To my amazing husband, the love of my life.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zoe Lockhart spread icing over another batch of cinnamon rolls, the delicious scent of cinnamon and sugar making her mouth water. She peeked at the clock on the wall to check the time. Perfect. She still had a few minutes before an instructor from PSI picked up the rolls for the bodyguard trainees’ breakfast.

  Who would stop by the bakery today? Usually the transporter was Nate Armstrong, an operative and chef who prepared meals for trainees and instructors. More often in the past few weeks, Simon Murray had volunteered for pick-up duty.

  A smile curved her lips. Nate was nice, but Simon made her heart skip beats and starred in her dreams. Who was she kidding? Simon was hot. Zoe thought he was working up the courage to ask her out on a date. He didn’t have to worry that she would turn him down. No one held a candle to Simon. “Thanks for coming in on your day off to help me out with the baking, Macy.”

  “It’s not a problem. Now, what are you smiling about?” Macy Aldridge, her assistant, placed blueberry muffins on a rack to cool.

  “Nothing.”

  “Ha. That smile says it’s something. I’ll bet you’re thinking of a man six feet tall with dark hair, dreamy dark eyes, shoulders a mile wide, and muscles of steel.”

  Zoe’s cheeks burned. Her friend knew her too well. “Maybe.”

  “I knew it.” Macy pumped a fist in the air. “Has Simon asked you on a date yet?”

  She shook her head.

  “Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I would have heard about it if he had. Gossip is the favorite pastime of Otter Creek’s busybodies.” A quick glance her direction. “Do I need to drop hints to the dense operative the next time I see him?”

  “He’ll ask when he’s ready.” If he was interested in her. Maybe Zoe had misread the signals. “Time to start the coffee.”

  “I have a pan of muffins ready to come out of the oven.”

  “I’ll handle the coffee prep, then.” She finished spreading icing on the last cinnamon roll and stripped off the rubber gloves covering her hands.

  Zoe crossed the kitchen and into the front portion of the bakery. She prepared the coffee makers and turned on the machines. Whoever picked up the cinnamon rolls would appreciate a to-go cup of coffee.

  She didn’t know exactly what Simon and his friends did at the training school, but their days started early. His team also traveled frequently. Something hush-hush. Would he tell her the details one day?

  Like most of her Tennessee town’s inhabitants, Zoe wanted to know about Simon and his teammates. Whatever their jobs, the men were always well armed. In fact, the police department used the two teams who ran Personal Security International as Otter Creek’s SWAT teams.

  She backtracked to the kitchen and filled trays for the bakery’s display cases. The muffins looked and smelled amazing. They wouldn’t last long, she knew. Otter Creek residents loved the variety of muffins the bakery offered each day. Once the filled trays were inside the cases, she slid the rest into the cooler to refill the trays as needed.

  She shifted to filling the pastry trays and the scones. Sasha Ramsey, owner of Perk, also stocked muffins, scones, and pastries from Zoe in her display cases. Her friend had decided it was better to buy her baked goods from Zoe than to make them herself or buy from an outside source. The decision had proved to be a profitable one for both women.

  Zoe grinned. Besides, Sasha wanted to spend more time with her husband, Cade, a teammate of Simon’s. She didn’t blame Sasha. At the moment, Zoe didn’t have a boyfriend or husband to complain about the extremely early and long hours she kept at the bakery despite Macy’s help. Soon, she’d need to hire help in the afternoon because the hours were starting to wear on her.

  After stocking the display cases with the scones and pastries, she filled a to-go cup of coffee and capped it without adding cream or sugar. None of the PSI folks added anything to their morning joe. Customers who preferred more than straight coffee usually went to Perk to fuel their caffeine addiction with Sasha’s fancy additives.

  Zoe returned to the kitchen and set the coffee on the counter. She frowned. Where was Macy? Another batch of cinnamon rolls was ready to come out of the oven. Grabbing oven mitts, she removed the pan and quickly shifted the rolls to a cooling rack. The last batch she’d iced was ready to be placed in the aluminum pans and covered with the plastic lid for transport to PSI.

  After boxing the last of PSI’s rolls, she glanced toward the darkened hall that led to her office and the employee restroom. Was Macy sick? “Macy?” she called. “You okay?”

  No response.

  Growing more concerned by the second, Zoe checked the cooler first, then the walk-in pantry. No Macy. Unless she had left the shop, the only places still to check were her office and the restroom.

  At the entrance to the hallway, she flipped the light switch but the hall remained dark. Zoe’s brows knitted. To Simon’s annoyance, she had changed the light bulb last week. He caught her on the rickety ladder and made her promise to call him the next time one of the shop bulbs needed changing.

  She walked toward her office. No light on in there. Bathroom, then. Zoe knocked on the door. “Macy? Are you okay?”

  Silence.

  She pounded on the door. “Hey, you’re scaring me.” When she still didn’t get a response from her friend, Zoe tried the knob. It turned easily under her hand. “Macy?”

  More silence.

  Twisting the knob, Zoe pushed open the door. The light was off. That was weird. She reached for the switch and light flooded the small bathroom.

  Zoe clamped a hand over her mouth and backed away until her back hit the wall. Someone had stabbed Macy. She needed to call for an ambulance. Racing to the kitchen for towels to staunch the blood flow, Zoe grabbed her cell phone.

  Her call connected to Otter Creek’s emergency dispatcher as she snatched towels and sped back down the hallway to the bathroom. “This is Zoe Lockhart. I’m at the bakery across the square. I need an ambulance and the police.”

  “What’s the nature of your emergency?”

  “My employee has been stabbed. Please send help fast. There’s so much blood.”

  “Are you safe?”

  Zoe rushed into the bathroom and knelt
in an area clear of Macy’s blood. “I don’t know.”

  “Get out of the building and go to a safe place in case an intruder is still in the shop.”

  “I can’t leave.” She pressed a wad of towels on the chest wound still bleeding profusely. “Macy will bleed out if I don’t put pressure on the wound.”

  “Stay on the phone with me. I dispatched an ambulance and the police will be on site in less than two minutes.”

  Not enough pressure with one hand. Zoe set the phone on the bathroom sink and used both hands to press down on the chest wound. “Come on, Macy. Hang in there.”

  She heard a noise in the hallway. Were the police here already? Why hadn’t they called out? She hurried to the hallway and pivoted toward the kitchen, expecting to see one of Otter Creek’s finest. No one stood there. Had she imagined the noise?

  A brush of fabric against the wall made goosebumps surge up her spine. That hadn’t been her imagination. Unfortunately, she’d made a serious mistake. The noise had come from her office, not the kitchen.

  Zoe started to turn when hard hands gripped her head and slammed her against the wall. Her world went black.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Simon Murray parked behind Zoe’s Bakery and turned off the SUV’s engine, anticipation firing in his blood at seeing the baker again and having a chance to talk to her for a couple minutes while they loaded the sweets for PSI’s breakfast.

  He needed to grow a spine and ask Zoe if she would be interested in going out to dinner with him. Rumors were circulating around PSI that several of the single trainers and trainees had either asked her out or were thinking about it.

  Simon scowled. If he didn’t make a move soon, one of the other men might wheedle a date and that would make her officially off limits to Simon. He didn’t poach on another man’s territory. The thought of Zoe belonging to someone else made his stomach tighten into a knot.

  What was the worst she could say? If she said no, he’d get over the soul-crushing disappointment of the woman of his dreams rejecting him and avoid contact with her for a while. No big deal.

  Except that it was a big deal. He was crazy about Zoe Lockhart. He wanted the right to run his fingers through her chocolate-brown hair and kiss that luscious, tempting full mouth. Yeah, he’d be toast if she wasn’t interested.

  Maybe he should broach the subject with Piper McCoy, his best friend’s wife. Piper and Zoe were close. If anyone knew the truth about Zoe’s feelings regarding him, Piper would. He considered that for two heartbeats and rejected the option. A highly-trained black ops soldier could handle a woman’s rejection. This was his move to make. So why did he feel like a thirteen-year-old boy experiencing his first crush?

  As Simon slid to the pavement, he glanced toward the far end of the alley where a man sped around the corner on foot and disappeared. Unease filled him when an engine cranked up seconds later and someone sped away from the area with a squawk of tires.

  Not sure what to make of that, he turned toward the bakery’s back entrance. The door stood ajar. Concern morphed into alarm between one heartbeat and the next. Zoe never left the back door open. He’d talked to her often about shop security since he and Piper’s husband, Liam, installed the bakery’s alarm system. She followed all his recommendations, including keeping the door locked at all times until she checked the security screen to confirm the identity of her visitors.

  Hand resting on the grip of his Sig, Simon nudged the door open wider and stepped into the well-lit kitchen filled with delectable scents. No Zoe or Macy. He resisted the urge to call out in case trouble lurked in the bakery. If he scared the women, he would apologize and send flowers or a pound of fudge to atone.

  His gut said something was wrong and he’d learned to trust it. Moving further into the kitchen with soundless steps, he glanced around. The door to one cabinet filled with dish towels stood open. A towel or two had fallen to the floor as though someone yanked out a cloth. The ovens were on and from the scent emanating from the interiors, something was nearly finished baking. Zoe should be checking on her baked goods.

  Simon glanced toward the dining area at the front of the shop. The door between the dining room and kitchen remained closed. He noted the to-go cup of coffee that Zoe had prepared for whoever happened to pick up the PSI order.

  He glanced into the dining area. Empty. That left the cooler, Zoe’s office, and the bathroom. Covering the distance to the cooler in a few swift steps, he determined the room was empty aside from muffins, scones, cookies, cakes, and cinnamon rolls waiting to be added to display cases or boxed for customers.

  Simon pivoted and moved into the darkened hallway. His breath caught when he spotted the body on the floor near the bathroom. In the spill of light, he recognized Zoe’s long tresses.

  Heart in his throat, he sprinted the remaining feet between them and dropped to his knees. He pressed shaking fingers to her throat and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady throbbing of her pulse.

  Simon glanced into the bathroom and stilled. Oh, man. Macy. He took in the scene at a glance and realized Zoe had been attempting to help Macy when she’d been attacked herself.

  He rose and angled himself into the small bathroom to check on Macy. The coppery scent of blood filled the small space, almost choking him with its intensity.

  Simon pressed his fingers to Macy’s throat. She had a pulse, barely. He noted Zoe’s phone on the bathroom sink as he heard sirens approaching. At least she’d been able to call for help. If Macy survived, Zoe’s quick thinking would make the difference.

  At that moment, Zoe moaned. Simon returned to her side. “Zoe, can you hear me?”

  “Simon?” She struggled to sit up. “Macy.”

  He eased her down to the floor. “Lie still. We don’t know what kind of injuries you have.”

  “Macy.”

  “Help will be here in a minute. Don’t move. You might have internal injuries.”

  “Will she be okay?” Zoe whispered.

  Simon wanted to tell her that Macy would be fine. He couldn’t lie to her. Zoe needed to know he would be truthful with her. If she gave him a chance, there would be times he couldn’t tell her anything because of his missions.

  “Police,” one of Otter Creek’s finest shouted from the kitchen. “Hands where I can see them.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, not recognizing this officer. A rookie. Terrific. “I’m Simon Murray with PSI. I’m armed. I’m a friend of both victims.”

  “Back toward me, fingers interlocked behind your head. Move slow.”

  Not only a rookie, then, but a nervous rookie. Simon preferred not to deal with a bullet wound today on top of everything else.

  “No.” Zoe moved closer to Simon. “You don’t understand, Officer. He didn’t hurt me or my friend.”

  “Ma’am, move away from him. Do it now.”

  “Simon.” Her voice broke.

  “Everything will be fine, baby. The important thing is for you and Macy to receive the help you need.” He rose, interlocked his fingers, and backed slowly toward the nervous cop. “Call Blackhawk, Santana, Kelter, or Armstrong,” he told the officer. “They’ll vouch for me.” A moment later, metal bracelets restrained his wrists behind his back.

  The Otter Creek police chief and the three detectives on the force were friends of his. Any one of them would confirm that he wasn’t a threat to Zoe or Macy.

  Being cuffed in front of Zoe galled him. Sure, his unit ran afoul of the law on occasion because of misunderstandings like this one, but he didn’t want Zoe to believe he and his teammates were a bunch of lawless thugs. Thugs and terrorists were the people Bravo fought against and brought to justice.

  Someone was a threat to Zoe and Macy. Simon vowed to unmask that person. He wouldn’t rest easy until he knew Zoe was safe.

  “Cut him loose.”

  The lightly accented voice issuing the order brought a sense of relief to Simon. “Perfect timing, Nick.”

  “Are you sure, sir?” T
he rookie looked from Simon to Detective Nick Santana. “I found him standing over the victim.”

  Nick’s dark gaze shifted to Simon. He frowned. “Zoe?”

  “And Macy. Macy’s been stabbed. She’s on the bathroom floor.”

  “Ambulance crew is right behind me.”

  “Get them in here. Macy’s in bad shape.”

  Once Nick directed the EMTs to the bathroom, he glared at the rookie. “Cut him loose, Wilson. I’ll vouch for him.”

  “Yes, sir.” With a resentful glance at Simon, the cop unlocked the handcuffs and stepped away from him.

  “You the first officer on scene?” Nick asked Wilson.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Set up a perimeter. I’ll take a look around, talk to Zoe and Simon, then get your take on things.”

  Wilson squared his shoulders, chest expanding with an exaggerated sense of his own importance. The officer rushed from the kitchen. Seconds later, he could be heard issuing orders for a hapless pedestrian or two to move along.

  “I can’t remember being that green,” Nick muttered.

  Simon chuckled. After a quick glance at the ovens, he grabbed the nearest oven mitts and pulled cinnamon rolls and muffins from the interiors. Not seeing other pans ready to enter the ovens, he closed the doors and turned them off. Whatever Zoe had to bake today would have to wait until another time. He already knew her bakery would be closed for the day at least. The shop was a crime scene and Zoe needed to be checked by a doctor.

  “Ma’am, you should remain still until we check you,” one of the EMTs said.

  “I’m fine. Focus on Macy.”

  Simon reached the hallway in time to witness Zoe struggling to her feet. She swayed and caught herself with a hand to the wall. He hurried to her side and slipped his arm around her waist. “Come into the kitchen. The EMTs need room to work on Macy.” One glance into the bathroom revealed the medical personnel scrambling to stabilize Zoe’s co-worker and prepare her for transport.

  Simon eased Zoe against his side and walked with her to the barstools at one of the counters. “I pulled muffins and cinnamon rolls from the ovens. Should I dump the contents on the racks?”