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a kick out of watching her do step after step.

      On the fifth step, she stopped, turned around, and flattened her ears. Before I could ask her what was wrong, glass broke in the front window. Something hit the step next to me and a loud blast followed by another and then another echoed through the store. It was only when Princess squealed that I realized the wood splintering around us was from a gunshot…or rather multiple gunshots.

      I grabbed Princess, who was screaming like a panicked seven-year-old. It was a noise I’d never heard her make before as I covered my head like my arm would stop a bullet. I crouched down, looking for a point of escape and the store alarm sounded. Books, lights, displays, and other merchandise shattered in every direction I turned. Smoke filled the store, and for a moment I thought the store was on fire. Then I realized the smell was from gunpowder and I ran for the stockroom. Holding Princess close, I huddled under the cubby from the steps. The safe was between me and whoever was shooting at the front of the store. I prayed it was enough to keep both of us out of harm’s way. Princess squirmed against my chest and I looked down to see blood covering my shirt. My hands began to shake. I didn’t know if it was hers or mine. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t feel my hands. Everything was numb and tingling with adrenaline.

      I heard a siren in the distance. At least I thought it was a siren; it was hard to tell with the blare of the alarm. I held on tight to Princess. I wasn’t about to let her go out there and get shot. I took comfort that the alarm sounding meant the police would be here soon, even if that wasn’t a siren I’d heard.

      The door came crashing open; I heard the wood give way and slam against concrete. I didn’t know if it was the good guys or bad guys, but I needed something to protect myself and Princess. I looked around at the shelves. The only thing within reach was a mop. I tucked Princess under one arm like a football and grabbed the mop. Holding it above my head, I waited for the intruder to walk into the storeroom. I would take off his head if it was the last thing I did. I was not going down without a fight.

      The curtain moved. A hand appeared and I swung as hard as I could. But whoever it was anticipated my move and blocked my swing with his arm. The intruder cursed loudly as the stick bounced off his arm. I lifted it again, but he grabbed the head and wrapped his fingers around the ropes and pulled. I stumbled forward. Princess squealed and the sheriff holstered his gun as we came face to face, both of us still holding onto the mop.

      I let go of my end and nearly sank to my knees in relief. Mateo Espinosa was anything but relieved. He was staring at my shirt and pushing me back to make me sit on the ground. I could see he was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him over the alarm. He began checking my stomach. That’s when I noticed my right arm was dripping…but I wasn’t feeling any pain. I would feel it if I’d been shot. Wouldn’t I?

      I looked at Princess. Her eyes were squinted and her teeth were bared. Blood was dripping off her back foot.

      Mateo, however, hadn’t yet noticed the source of the blood. He was still focused on my shirt. His hands roamed over my midsection and I smack them away and pointed to Princess. I could see the relief cross his face, but there wasn’t time to register what it meant. I grabbed for the rags stacked on the shelf.

      Mateo helped me to my feet and yelled in my ear, “What’s the alarm code?”

      I quickly gave it to him as I tried to apply pressure to the wound on my pet’s leg. Mateo momentarily disappeared and the alarm silenced. I could hear more voices out on the sales floor but wasn’t sure it was safe.

      “O.M.W. What happened?”

      “Scarlet, I need you to wait outside,” Mateo ordered in his firm voice. “This is a crime scene.”

      “I’m not leaving until I know Charli is okay. Where is she?”

      With Scarlet on the sales floor, I knew I could safely exit the stockroom. Applying pressure on Princess’s wound, I pushed my way through the pink velvety curtain. Scarlet took one look at me and her flawless, alabaster skin turned ghostly white.

      “I’m okay,” I assured her. “It’s Princess. Someone shot Princess.” My voice quivered, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that Princess wouldn’t die. Please don’t let her die.

      I approached the front counter and placed her on top. She squirmed momentarily and let out a pathetic mewling noise. Scarlet hurried over to help me. Even in her black satin p.j.’s the sassy red head with an hour-glass figure made me look like a stick woman.

      “Someone shot Princess? Why?”

      I didn’t have an answer so I kept my mouth shut as we examined her entire body. Luckily, it was only her right back leg that had been injured.

      Mateo returned as a couple of his deputies roped off the crime scene with bright yellow tape. “How is she doing?” he asked.

      “I think it’s just superficial. But I’d like to take her to the emergency vet to make sure.”

      “I’ll help you get her in the truck,” Mateo offered.

      “I’ll go with you,” Scarlet volunteered.

      This was why I’d stayed in Hazel Rock when I came home. The caring nature of the people and the way the entire town worked together toward a common goal was extraordinary. It was heartwarming and downright comforting.

      “I’m going to need to get your statement when you’re done,” Mateo said.

      I agreed, but focused on trying to make Princess comfortable.

      “If we find out who did this, do you want to prosecute?”

      “Was Princess born pink?” He looked at the pathetic little armadillo on the counter as if he was trying to decide.

      “Of course, I want to prosecute. They hurt Princess and damaged the Barn.” For the first time, I looked around and absorbed the real damage. The broken glass sparkling on the floor reflecting the light from above. The front door hanging cattywampus off its track and broken. The white beadboard surrounding the front counter chewed up with bullet holes. The steps leading to the loft marred and scarred forever. Books lying on the floor, knocked over from displays that couldn’t withstand the destruction. Book spines split, the pages resembling targets at the shooting range.

      “Who would do such a thing?”

      “That’s what I was going to ask you.” Mateo pulled his trusty little notepad out of the shirt pocket. I’d met him several months back when I’d dialed 911 from Scarlet’s beauty shop. It had been my first day in Hazel Rock in twelve years. He’d pulled that notepad out to collect information from me about a murder. Since then our relationship was more than friendship, but not quite dating. He thought I needed to take care of my past with Cade first. I hadn’t argued with his rationalization for some reason.

      “I have no idea. I was working late putting up holiday decorations and I stopped to take a break and feed Princess. We started to go upstairs and the front door shattered. Princess screamed.” I shuddered, remembering the awful noise. “I grabbed her and ran for the back room. The next thing I knew, you were coming through the curtain. You had to have seen more than I did.” I looked into his deep chocolate eyes, wishing I could melt into the night within them.

      “I was at the diner having dinner when I heard shots fired. I called for backup and ran down the street. That’s when I saw the broken glass. I kicked the front door open and came in. Then you hit me.” He rubbed his arm.

      “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you. I could just hear someone tearing through the store.”

      “It was me calling out to you and your dad. Bobby Ray isn’t here?”

      “No, he went home when we closed the store. I was working late to get things done for a news conference.”

      “I think I need to know what this news conference is about.”

      “We’re releasing a new product on Thursday and Penelope Calloway is going to help us.”

      “What

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