Four more minutes.
Would he ever get used to Sarah exposing herself in public if Thompson was never captured or killed? He’d spend every single moment of the rest of his life with that niggling, fucking irritating worry, terrified that one small slipup could get her killed. The longer it took to catch the asshole, the more willing Sarah would be to go on with her life. It was exactly what she’d done after the attack, moving to Amesport and starting a new beginning.
Three more minutes.
Dante cringed as Sarah moved on her piano seat, causing the garment she was wearing to inch up on her thighs. What the hell was she wearing, anyway? She’d called it a tube dress, but all Dante knew was that she was showing way too much skin and the dress hugged every delectable curve of her body. Starting at the tops of her breasts, the striped one-piece outfit was like a tube that clung to everything from her chest to the middle of her thighs. It wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate the garment, especially the length of time it would take him to get her out of it. One tug and it would slide down to her hips. One more would bring it down to her legs and sliding to the floor. He was good with that. However, he wasn’t crazy about the fact that he could see the outline of her nipples at certain angles, or the fact that he was sitting here rock hard just from hearing her play in that fuck-me dress.
Two more minutes.
As usual, Dante was fighting an inner war between his desire to protect Sarah and his desire to make her happy. One look into those fathomless violet eyes of hers had nailed him. Oh yeah, they were really dark blue, but they damn well looked violet to him, and they’d been pleading with him to give her some space to get back to a normal life. When she gave him that look he was completely destroyed. He wondered if she knew that. Probably not. Still, it made him want to give her anything and everything she wanted to make her happy. Problem was, he needed to protect her, too, and he was discovering that it was damn difficult to make her happy and keep her safe at the same time.
One more minute.
God, she was beautiful. Dante’s eyes caressed her lovingly as she continued to play like an angel, her face almost glowing with pleasure. Truth was, he already knew he was all-in with this woman and probably had been soon after they’d met. He was looking at his future, and he was surprisingly serene about that fact. This complex, amazingly intelligent, beautiful, sexy female had turned his life and his emotions upside down, but she belonged with him. There was no way in hell he could live without her anymore, and he didn’t plan to.
Time’s up. Thank fuck!
Right on time, the concert ended so all of the silver-haired ladies could scurry off to senior bingo. There were choruses of appreciative words called to Sarah as they filed out, the room emptying quickly. Dante breathed a sigh of relief as he stood by the door, watching to make sure nobody entered. Emily and Randi went to join Sarah, while Grady and Jared stepped out the door to talk about a new project Grady was working on.
Everything changed in an instant.
One moment Dante was caught by Elsie Renfrew to say hello, and the next he turned back to Sarah to see a sight he’d only ever envisioned in his nightmares: John Thompson using Sarah as a shield, the barrel of a 9 mm pistol to her head. It had happened in a split second. Where in the hell had the bastard come from? He was guarding the door, and he’d searched every inch of the room before Sarah’s performance.
“One wrong move from anybody, and she’s dead, her brains splattered all over this room, along with the rest of her friends,” Thompson screeched hysterically.
Dante froze, taking in the situation in seconds. Emily and Randi were flanking Sarah and the gunman, neither of them moving, both afraid the asshole would kill Sarah. Dante’s Glock was within reach, so close, but he didn’t have a clear shot, and he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t hit one of the women if he shot in haste. They were all too close, and Sarah was being used as human armor. Dante was damn fast with a gun, but not so fast that a psychotic gunman with a twitchy trigger finger couldn’t kill Sarah before he could get a shot off. And even if he did kill the bastard, the gun in Thompson’s hand might still discharge.
“Get out and close the fucking door. Lock it or she dies,” Thompson demanded in a high-pitched, frantic voice.
Dante could see the fear in every one of the women’s eyes, but not one of them moved. His heart thundering against his chest wall, he stepped back as he saw the slight tightening of the man’s grip on the pistol. He met Sarah’s eyes and she subtly nodded, silently telling him to do what Thompson demanded.
There was nothing Dante wanted more than to pull his gun and shoot the bastard right between his beady, crazed eyes, but he didn’t. He took in every detail he could about the man holding Sarah hostage while he was slowly closing the door: his skinny frame, the wild-eyed look on his face, the scruffy brown beard he was growing, the shoulder-length greasy hair, and the orange T-shirt and torn jeans that were littered with stains.
Then, he trained his eyes on Sarah as long as he could until the metal door slammed closed, locked. He wasn’t worried about the lock. Someone had keys. His biggest concern was the fact that there were no windows in the door, no windows in the music room, no way to know what was happening inside.
“Fuck! Call nine-one-one and get ahold of Chief Landon. Now!” Dante bellowed, the desperate sound bringing Jared and Grady to his side.
“What are we reporting?” Elsie asked as she pulled a pink cell phone from her large purse and dialed.
“Hostage situation. Three women with a psychotic lunatic. He has a nine-millimeter Smith and Wesson seventeen-round pistol. Tell them we need a hostage negotiator and a SWAT team.” Turning to Jared, he instructed, “Evacuate the building as fast and as quietly as possible. Have the seniors use the side door to exit the building. Jared, can you handle getting everybody out?”