Point of Control by L.J. Sellers

intense, so sexy. He’d never been so attracted to a woman so quickly. He’d always liked women who were older—the gorgeous grifter he’d fallen for in high school had been twenty-three to his sixteen—but Bailey was a new extreme. She had to be in her midthirties. Impulsively, he followed her out of the house. He’d overheard her say that his mother might live if she cooperated with her abductors. The agent knew who’d taken Dana.
    Outside, the air was cold and damp, but he barely noticed. He glanced left into the darkness, expecting to see her walking toward the corner, where there might be an extra parking space, but no one was on the sidewalk. Footsteps thudded in the other direction. A heavy, fast-moving person. Garrett pivoted toward the sound. A half block away, a dark shape charged toward a woman on the sidewalk. She seemed to sense the attacker and spun around. In the faint glow of a nearby streetlight, he recognized Bailey. Before Garrett could think or call out, another man had come from behind a shrub and lunged at Bailey, pinning her arms behind her.
    Garrett charged across the lawn toward the struggling bodies, not knowing what he would do. He remembered the gun-carrying agents in the house. He shouted for help as loud as he could. Both assailants looked up. The closer one brought up a gun.
    Oh shit! Garrett jumped behind a parked car. In midair he heard a shot ring out and felt a searing flare of pain in his arm. As he hit the ground, a second bullet slammed into the car with a crunch. He’d been hit! And they were still shooting! Dear god. He’d survived being struck by a speeding car, only to die here in the gutter in front of the house he’d grown up in.

    Someone shouted, and the attacker loosened his grip. Bailey jerked both arms up, breaking his hold, then lunged for the grass to her right and rolled, finding her weapon as she came up on her knees. The sound of gunfire exploded. On the sidewalk, the man who’d charged at her from the street was firing at a shape diving behind a car a half block away. Garrett? She heard him cry out as he hit the street. She brought up her weapon and aimed at the shooter’s head, but as she pulled the trigger, a boot smashed into her ear. The blow knocked her sideways, and she knew she’d missed her target. Pain seared in her temple, enraging her.
    Bailey pushed to her feet and spun toward her assailant, her weapon aimed at his torso six feet away. She pressed the trigger but nothing happened. Shit! Her Glock was jammed.
    The man, who appeared to be unarmed, sprinted for the SUV. The sidewalk shooter had already reached the vehicle and was climbing into the driver’s seat. Bailey slid open the Glock’s chamber and reloaded the cartridge. The car’s engine roared as it took off. She brought up her weapon and fired at the back of the rig. The glass shattered, but the vehicle raced away. Where the hell was her car?

    A door slammed shut. Dizzy and freaked out, Garrett stayed on the ground. An engine roared, and a big vehicle rushed toward him on the street. Garrett belly-crawled partway under the car he’d taken refuge behind. Bullets coming from several directions thunked into the back of the SUV as it raced down the street.
    Holy hell! This was crazy. He eased out from under the car and glanced at the back of his upper arm. Blood seeped from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. Seeing it made the pain real again. But it didn’t matter. All he could think about was Agent Bailey. Was she still alive?
    Except for the voices on the porch, the night was suddenly quiet. No more guns. He clambered to his feet and hurried around the car. Bailey was running toward him on the sidewalk, blood oozing down the side of her face. Had she been shot in the head? “Do you need an ambulance?” he called out.
    “No. I’m fine.” She sounded so calm. As she reached him, she stopped. “What about you? You’re bleeding.”
    He rotated his arm at the shoulder. “I think it’s