Dandy.

"Anyone else in the house?"

"We don't know that yet either. Jeff is working on getting the floor plans from the rental company that owns the house. Gomez is talking to neighbors to see what they know."

They set up a command post in the parking lot of an apartment complex across the street. Team members quietly dispersed around the property while uniformed officers blocked off the streets and cleared the surrounding area of bystanders.

Collin climbed to the second floor of the apartment building, seeking an advantageous position from which to view the Perez place. Adrenaline raced through his bloodstream at a far greater rate than usual in a call-out. He'd practiced this scenario a thousand times. Had even executed it. But no one he loved had ever been inside the premises.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand over his forehead. Of all the times to realize he was in love, he'd sure picked a doozy.

Through the earpiece in his helmet he heard the captain. They'd made contact with Teddy Shipley. The guy was spewing all kinds of irrationalities, blaming the cops for harassing him, for his inability to get a job, asking for money, a car, amnesty from prosecution.

For the next hour and a half, the negotiator tried to soothe the frenzied suspect. Collin wished like crazy he could hear the conversation but all his information was filtered through the commander. He could hear the other officers, and from his vantage point above the scene he watched the stealth movement of Tac members maneuvering closer to the house, hoping for a chance.

After a while, the suspect moved the hostage into the living room, though even through his scope, Collin could see only their shadowy forms. One of those shadows belonged to Mia. The other much larger form definitely brandished a weapon. And as much as Collin wanted to charge the place and take the guy out with his own hands, right now all he could do was wait.

By noon, the tension hung as thick as L.A. fog. Shipley grew angrier and more demanding by the minute.

Collin, jaw tight, spoke into his mouthpiece. "Has anyone talked to the hostage?"

The answer crackled back. "Yes. She sounded okay. Scared, but pretty calm under the circumstances. We gathered from her subtle answers that Shipley is popping pills on top of meth. He's seriously messed up."

No big surprise there. Collin ground his teeth. No surprise but a really big problem.

At one o'clock, food was brought in. No one bothered to eat it.

At two o'clock, the negotiator still had not established a rapport. The suspect was spewing vitriol with the frequency and strength of a geyser. He was sick of being harassed. He wasn't taking it anymore. He wasn't going back to the pen. And scariest of all, they'd never take him alive.

By three in the afternoon, hope for a peaceful resolution was fading. Shipley came to the dirty window, dragging Mia with him, a nine millimeter at her temple. Collin saw her expression through his scope. Saw the fear in her eyes, the bruises on her face. Hot fury ripped through him.

Collin knew the minute Shipley spotted an officer outside the house. Wild-eyed and crazed, he fired one shot through the picture window. Glass shattered. Shipley shoved Mia toward the opening, screaming threats.

They had an active shooter with a hostage. Things could go south fast. Real fast.

The question came through his earpiece, terse but strong. "Have you got a visual?"

"Yeah." For a man whose knees had turned to water, his voice sounded eerily calm.

He slid down onto his belly, the rough shingles scraping against his vest. He had a visual, but Mia was in the way.

"If you have the shot, take it."

The surge of adrenaline prickled his scalp. His mouth went dry. To his horror, his hands, renowned for their steadiness, began to shake.

In twelve years on the force, he'd never missed, never been scared, not even when he took down a cop killer. But Mia had never been the hostage. Her bright-red Christmas sweater and frightened eyes were imprinted in his brain.

What if he hit the woman he loved more than his own life? What if the ice-water-in-his-veins sniper they called Amazing Grace missed?

The December temperature was in the thirties, but sweat broke out all over Collin.

He was the only person standing between Mia and the maniac, and he was terrified.

He couldn't do this. But there was no one else. The other sniper had no shot. Mia's life was in his hands-hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

He needed help. And there was only one place to get it.

Intent on the house, he was afraid to blink and too focused to move. Under the circumstances, he figured God would understand if his prayers weren't too formal. There was no time to close his eyes and bow his head.

"Help me, Lord. I can't handle this one. Steady me. Give me the perfect shot. For Mia."

Then as if God had actually heard him, the strangest thing happened. His hands and guts stopped trembling. The usual cool detachment settled over him. Only the feeling wasn't cool. It was warm, comforting. Something incredible had just happened to him, but he had no time to dwell on it.

"Thanks," he whispered. Later, he'd do a lot better.

His gaze flicked from the felon to Mia. Eyes wide, she stared outward toward the invisible cops. As if in slow motion, Collin saw her mouth move. For a second, he thought she was praying, too, but then through his scope, he read her lips.

"Do it."

She knew he was out here. She knew he was the sniper on duty. And she trusted him to take care of her. Mia trusted him.

And he wasn't about to let her down.

With exacting skill, he trained the sights on the suspect and waited for the precise moment. No muscle quivered. Not an eyelash blinked.

Suddenly, Mia slumped in a faint.

Collin pulled the trigger. The crack ripped the air, and the suspect crumpled.

In the next few milliseconds that seemed like hours, the Tac-team swarmed the house. Voices screamed in his earpiece.

"Suspect down. Suspect down."

Collin pushed up from the roof. A minute ago, he'd been deadly calm. Now his legs wobbled with such force he wasn't sure he could walk. Rifle in hand, he started down. He made it to the first-floor stairwell and collapsed, sliding down with his back against the hard, block wall.

He could have killed her. He could have hit Mia.

"I will never leave you nor forsake you."

The words entered his head unbidden and he knew they didn't come from him. He shoved one hand into his pocket and withdrew the little keychain.

"Thank you," he muttered. Keychain in his fisted hand, he pressed the little fish to his mouth, dropped his head to his elevated knees, and did something he hadn't done since he was ten years old.

He wept.

"I don't need an ambulance. I'm okay. Really." Mia struggled against the strong arms of too many paramedics and police officers who wanted her to get into the ambulance. There was only one cop she wanted to see and he was nowhere around.

"Humor us, Mia." Maurice Johnson's familiar face materialized from the crowd. "You're in shock."

Maybe she was in shock. Except for an overriding sense of relief, she felt numb.

A paramedic wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. As she started to resist, her knees buckled. Maurice grabbed her slumping form and helped the paramedic lift her into the back of the ambulance.

"Where's Collin?" she asked. The bruise on her cheekbone started to throb and her head swam.

"Right here."

A tall, lean officer in SWAT uniform pushed through the crowd. His handsome face exhausted, he was the most wonderful thing she'd ever seen.

"Collin," she said, and heard the wobble in her voice, felt the tears in her eyes. She dove out of the ambulance into the strongest arms imaginable. Collin wouldn't let her fall.

"I'm sorry. I was so wrong. I do trust you. I do." The tears came in earnest then.

"I know." His lips brushed her ear. "It's okay. Everything is okay now."

She searched his face and saw something new. A peace she hadn't seen before.

He was still strong and solid and every bit the confident police officer, but something about him had changed.

Later, she'd have to ask. Yes, later, she thought, as she snuggled against his chest and the world went dark.

Collin didn't bother to clean up. Still in uniform, he made one stop before heading to the hospital.

When he walked into the room, Mia was sitting in a hospital bed, chattering at mach speed to convince a young doctor to let her go home.

"Might as well say yes," Collin said.

The blond resident gave him a weary smile. "Persistent, is she?"

"Like a terrier. She'll yap until you give in."

"You sound like a man of experience."

Collin looked at the smiling Mia and his heart wrenched. Her pretty face was swollen and bruised from eye to chin. But that didn't keep her from talking.

"Just trust me on this." He winked at Mia. "And let her go. She'll be well taken care of. I can promise you that."

The doctor scribbled something on the chart and dropped the clipboard into a slot at the foot of the bed. "I'll see what I can do."

As he left, Collin scraped a heavy green chair up to the bedside. "How ya doin'?"

"Better. How are you?"

No one had ever asked him that before except the force psychologist.

"It's part of the job."

"I didn't ask you that." She took the single red rose from him and pressed the bud to her nose. "I knew you were out there today. And I knew you and God would take care of me."

"How?"

She tapped her heart. "I felt you. In here. Just the way I felt God's presence. You saved my life."

Just thinking about what could have happened made Collin want to crush her to him and never let her go. "I've never been that scared."

"You?"

"Terrified," he admitted. "I prayed, Mia. And the strangest thing happened. My hands were shaking and I couldn't do my job. One prayer later, I'm a changed man."

"Oh, Collin." Hope flared in her sweet eyes.

He smiled, the tenderness inside him a scary thing. He had to tell her. He had to say the words no matter how difficult. With Mia, he could be vulnerable.

"I realized that I need God in my life even more than I need you. And I need you more than my next breath. I love you, Mia. Please say you haven't given up on me."

Collin had never seen an angel, but he couldn't imagine anything more beautiful than the expression on Mia's face.

"I don't ever give up, Collin. Don't you know that by now?" She shifted on the bed, grimaced at the IV in her arm. "Mitchell came by with another social worker. He wanted to tell me not to be mad at you anymore."

"He broke into your confidential files?"

"How did you guess?"

"I figured as much all along."

"And said nothing."

"Now don't get your back up. I wanted him to be man enough to own up to mistakes on his own."

"He told us something else, too. Shipley set your barn on fire. Revenge for messing in his business, as he put it. He's just a mean man."

Now that was a stunner. "I guess I owe my neighbor an apology on that at least."

"What about the lawsuit?"

"You brother convinced Mr. Slokum to play nice. He dropped the case when Adam brought up the half brother."

"Adam's a good lawyer."

"What's going to happen to Mitch now?" He hated to ask the obvious. "Foster care?"

She offered a smug smile. "Yes, but I have a plan."

"Which means someone is about to be hit by a bulldozer named Mia."