Page 56 of Impossible Rapids

“I wanted to show you ... I knew I couldn’t wait.” He shuddered against her, glancing around at the carnage, then his blue eyes captured hers. “I can’t lose you.”

He held her close, and Julie clung to him. He couldn’t lose her, but she was confused by his other statements and the fact that he hadn’t trusted her. Why hadn’t he confided in her?

Police vehicles screeched to a stop and rushed to help them, demanding everyone put their hands up.

Julie put her hands up, Shawn at her side.

“What happened?” he asked, inclining his chin to the men.

“Brandon,” she said. “He locked the door, had two men outside the window.” Was she making any sense? “Blaine! He was trying to protect me from Brandon, and they shot him from behind.”

All of Shawn’s guards in the garden and the alley had set their weapons down and had their hands up as the police confirmed identities, checked the bodies, and relieved Jerome of his burden. The water fountain bubbled behind them. Julie shivered, her dress damp from Shawn’s wet suit.

“I checked. Blaine had a pulse,” Theo told her.

“Oh, thank heavens.”

“Mr. Wallace explained everything,” Paul said. “The men shot Blaine, and when Mr. Wallace tried to protect you, they knocked his head into the window frame and grabbed you.”

“No!” she screamed.

Several police officers stopped and looked at her.

“Brandon is the bad guy. Don’t let him get away!”

Shawn looked at her. “He left the courtroom and came for you.”

“He set up the foundations for Mercedes, shadow corporations in his name. He’s the recipient of everything if you and I die.”

“Sergeant James,” Shawn commanded one of the men. “Brandon Wallace is the instigator of all this and has probably just escaped from Takara Restaurant.”

“We’ll find him for questioning,” the sergeant confirmed.

“And a car bomb,” Julie cried out, looking at Shawn, her stomach flipping over. “Brandon said you’d die in a car bomb.”

Shawn’s eyes widened. “I need to call Franz.” He yanked out his phone.

Two officers immediately pointed guns at him.

He held up the phone in one hand and his other in a placating manner. “I am Shawn Holister, and I need to call Franz Belle immediately so he does not get in my Range Rover and get killed by the car bomb we believe Brandon Wallace’s men placed to kill me.”

One of the officers nodded. “I know who you are, sir. Make your call. Then we can send a team to search for and diffuse the bomb.”

“Thank you.” Shawn hurriedly pushed the button.

Julie could hear him speaking urgently to Franz.

Ah, Franz.

“He’s still with the judge,” Shawn told her.

She relaxed and almost sank to the ground with relief. Franz hadn’t gotten in the car.

Suddenly, she heard a man yelling, “Why would I injure my client? I am the victim here. If I had done anything amiss, why would I have stayed to make certain I spoke with you? Why would I insist on finding out that my clients, Mr. Holister and Miss Pandoran, were safe?”

Brandon Wallace was ranting at the police officers who courteously escorted him to a sedan, blood streaming down his head from his self-inflicted wound.

“Shawn!” he called. “There’s my client.” He tilted his chin as if he was their superior. “Mr. Holister will explain.”