by B. J Daniels
Vi pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “If you think I’m going to open up my store for these—”
“I have a key to the store,” said the young man who’d settled the baby.
Vi let out a cry. “Lars? You’re fired!” she yelled. “I should have known you’d turn on me. Just like you did my daughter. But the joke’s on you. You don’t have a key to the pharmacy, so there.” She gave him a smug smile.
Lars handed the baby to Tina, and the infant began to cry again. “Vi, don’t be a fool,” he said quietly. “We can break into the pharmacy for what we need. Or you can give us the key. Either way, we’re going to get what is needed.”
Vi spun on him. “You’re the fool, Lars Olson, for sleeping with that...that woman.” She pointed across the café at the woman sitting alone in the booth. “Shirley Langer is a loser just like you. I’ll never forgive you for breaking my daughter’s heart and telling people—” the woman’s voice broke “—people that this precious baby isn’t yours.”
“Now isn’t the time to talk about that,” Lars said, still keeping his voice down.
“Lars is right,” Earl Ray agreed as he got to his feet. “He and I will go over to the store and get the medical supplies we need with or without the key to the pharmacy.” He stepped between Gene and Vi.
“I’ll be going with you,” Gene said as if they had forgotten him.
“Of course,” Earl Ray said and looked to Lars. The younger man was staring down at the baby in the young redhead’s arms. He seemed to shake off whatever thoughts he’d been having and rising, started toward the door.
Vi began to cry, sobbing and beating her fist against the back of the booth seat for a moment before she reached into her purse. Finding the keys, she hurled them at Lars. “You make a mess and you’ll clean it up!”
He and the men walked toward the door.
“You know what to do if we don’t come back,” Gene said over his shoulder to his two men on his way out. “Shoot anyone who moves.”
The baby began to cry louder. There was more sniffling in the room as the older woman by the door collapsed again into her husband’s arms. The two were glaring at Vi.
“What are you two old fools looking at?” Vi demanded.
“Keep your voice down,” Tina cried. “You’re upsetting Chloe.”
Vi slammed her lips shut but continued to glare around at anyone who looked at her. Bobby and Eric were both shaking their heads. Clearly they knew how close Vi had come to getting shot, Culhane thought.
Fortunately, both men were more interested in the food. They kept eating as if they thought it might be their last meal. It might be, he figured.
He could feel Alexis’s gaze on him and knew exactly what she was thinking. That maybe this would be a good time to disarm these two.
“Wait,” he said quietly as he turned back to his breakfast. He took another bite before glancing out the side window. The three men were almost to the general store. Once they were inside the store and busy...
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALEXIS FELT HER stomach roil. Morning sickness, yeah, right. It could hit her anytime, anywhere. But not here, please not here. She couldn’t believe the mess she’d walked into. She would have liked to blame Culhane for all of it.
But she remembered the night in question camped beside the lake, the campfire crackling, the flames dancing against the side of the tent. They hadn’t used protection. It was a story as old as time. She’d just never believed it would happen to her.
She took a bite of pancake, hoping it would calm her stomach; otherwise, she was going to have to make a run for the ladies’ room under the worst possible circumstances. Taking a few deep breaths, she got past it.
That night at the lake had been glorious. Culhane had gotten up the next morning and made her breakfast over the campfire. The memory hurt at heart level and radiated out all the way to her toes and her fingertips. The next bite was hard to swallow, but she kept eating, knowing she needed the sustenance and hoping she would be able to keep the food down.
“How are things with you?” Culhane whispered.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t answer. This didn’t seem like the time to get into it, but that didn’t stop Culhane.
“I haven’t been great,” he said.
She shot him a look. That was putting it mildly, given that he was wanted for murder.
“This is hell for me just thinking what could happen to you here,” he said.
His words made her heart ache. She swallowed the lump in her throat and took another bite of her breakfast. Her eyes burned. Culhane had always been able to disarm her emotionally with only a few words. Who was she kidding? A look from him was all it took.
Or had taken, she reminded herself. Who knew what other secrets he’d kept from her. Unable to trust the man, she told herself she was no longer under his spell. He could no longer beguile her with one of his lazy grins. Or melt her insides with his sleepy-eyed looks. Or sweet-talk her back into his bed.
“You know how this is going to end if we don’t do something,” she whispered back.
He nodded and sighed before he turned to look at the two armed men. “How’s your breakfast?” he called to them. “Anyone want seconds?”
“Could use some coffee,” Eric said. But as Culhane started to rise, Eric stopped him. “I want her to pour it.”
Neither of them had to ask who Eric meant.
Culhane glanced at Alexis as he picked up his Stetson and settled it over his unruly blond hair. She saw that it was his lucky hat. She hoped he was wearing his lucky boots as well. “You might want to get that fresh pot from the back,” he said to her. “But be careful, it’s real hot,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear. Then he met her gaze, just long enough.
She nodded and rose slowly, wishing for her gun instead of a coffeepot. Culhane had always been a crack shot, but they’d just both agreed silently that gunfire would get Earl Ray and Lars killed. Like when they were deputies together, they often could just look at each other and know what the other one wanted to do.
She tried to still her pounding heart as she walked into the kitchen and picked up the hot pot of fresh coffee. If this went sideways, a lot of people could be killed, she and Culhane among them. Culhane would die not even knowing that he was almost a father. A father that if they lived might be headed for jail—or worse—prison.
As she passed the counter, Culhane rose and swore loudly. “Oh, shoot, I left the grill on.” He rushed in the kitchen, passing her. The look in his eyes was almost her undoing. It was both a wish of good luck as well as a warning to be careful with something more heart-wrenching tossed in the mix. Goodbye, in case this plan went really bad.
But it was the love she saw there that made her heart skip as she started toward the booth where the two men were waiting, their weapons right there on the table next to them.
* * *
LARS BENT DOWN to unlock the door to the general store. Earl Ray couldn’t help seeing the way the man’s hands shook and sweat beaded on his ruddy face. Lars must have noticed his hands, too, because he fumbled for a moment putting the key into the lock but finally managed.
Pull it together. The door swung open. Earl Ray told himself that of course Lars was nervous. Like him, there were people in that café that Lars cared and worried about. Clearly the man cared more about Tina and the baby that possibly even Shirley had known until today. But Earl Ray suspected that Lars cared about Shirley as well. Also like him, Lars was probably even more worried about what Vi would do before this was over. He certainly was. The woman didn’t have the good sense of a goose.
He watched Gene look around at the vacant main drag before jabbing him in the back with the gun and forcing him inside the store. “Come on. We don’t have all day.” It was still early. What few people were left in town weren’t up and about and probably wouldn’t be. Most had go
ne to the next town for Sunday church services like they usually did when the weather allowed. They wouldn’t be back for hours, often making a day of it.
“The pharmacy is back here,” Earl Ray said and led the way down the aisle. The Mullen General Store carried everything from muck boots to diapers, canned food to sunscreen, and even rocks for those who wanted to buy a piece of Montana to take home. At the back was a small bank of metal post-office boxes. Vi was the postmistress and also the pharmacist, in that she could hand out medications sent over from one of the large towns. Some drugs were kept on hand for emergencies.
The Mullens owned half the town, including the antique barn just off the main street. Vi’s husband Axel had been as close to a mayor as the unincorporated town had ever had. But her husband had left her after what had happened a few months ago. Most people figured she would sell out and leave as well. The rest of them thought she should go to jail longer for what she did.
The law had taken into account her age, that she had a daughter and grandchild, and been lenient. Vi had sworn that all she’d be doing was trying to help her brother. It had been wrong. She could admit that now. But when he’d come to her in tears... How was she to know the depth of his trouble until it was too late?
The whole horrible incident had left Vi even more obstinate and contemptuous and surly. Earl Ray had actually felt sorry for her, given what she’d gone through. He knew her bad behavior was a defense mechanism. But damned if he hadn’t wanted to throttle her back there at the cafe.
He moved to the pharmacy part of the store, next to the post office. He knew there was nothing here that could save the man lying in the back of the van. But at least he could make him comfortable until he died. If there had been any way to keep him alive, he would have done it.
Lars handed him the keys, and he opened the drug cabinet, quickly taking out what he needed. He didn’t want to be gone from the café long for fear of what would happen in their absence. Nor did he trust those two men Gene had left in charge. The one seemed young and naive, the other was a hothead. Earl Ray had seen him eyeing the woman at the counter. Eric really had no idea what he was getting into if he decided to take it any further with her. Either could make a critical mistake that would end with bloodshed.
He thought of Bessie. She could handle herself. But some of the others? Not so much. At just the thought of Bessie, he thought his heart would break. Why hadn’t he told her how he felt about her? Now he might never get the chance.
* * *
CULHANE TURNED OFF the grill, made a show of burning his hand and reaching for an oven mitten on the shelf. He knew they had to move fast—and to keep it as quiet as possible. He saw his gun and hesitated before quickly picking it up and stuffing it into the back of his jeans. He covered it with his shirt as he reminded himself that if any of them fired a shot, it would alert Gene, who would probably start by killing both Earl Ray and Lars. Not that he wouldn’t anyway before this was over. Unless Culhane could stop it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alexis heading slowly toward the table with the two men. Another step and she would block their view of him.
He picked up the heavy metal pan still loaded with cinnamon rolls. As an afterthought, he grabbed up the large spatula he’d been using on the grill. It had to weigh a couple of pounds. He headed into the other room behind Alexis and her full pot of hot coffee.
He was right behind her with the tray of rolls and the massive spatula. Eric’s gaze was on Alexis in a way that gave Culhane sick chills. Bobby was still elbow-deep in the food.
They were almost to the table when it seemed something caught Eric’s eyes off to his right. Culhane saw the man instinctively reach for his weapon. As Eric did, he jumped up, knocking Alexis back. The coffeepot hit the edge of the table and shattered. Hot coffee splashed everywhere—including onto Bobby. Appearing to have no idea what was happening, the man rocketed to his feet with a curse and, grabbing his gun and Alexis, pointed the barrel at her head.
The sound of a gunshot exploded in the café, followed by screaming.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DOWN IN THE general store, Earl Ray started to close the drug cabinet, but Gene stopped him.
“I’ll take some of that,” the man said, pushing him aside to grab a bottle of amphetamines, then an array of other drugs, stuffing the containers into his pockets.
Closing and locking the cabinet, Earl Ray picked up what medical supplies he could use to at least cover the wound and give Gus some comfort from the pain. It was only a stopgap measure. He had a feeling Gene knew it, too.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Gene open one of the bottles of drugs, shake out four tablets and toss them into his mouth dry before pocketing the bottle again.
Earl Ray tried not to shudder at the thought of this dangerous man becoming more unstable as the drugs coursed through his system. Things were bad enough but could definitely get much worse. Earl Ray knew the real problem, though, was in the van. Gus was going to die, and when he did, Gene would probably come unhinged and kill anyone in sight. Earl Ray could only hope that the man would stay alive long enough for these men to leave...
As they headed through the store toward the front door, Gene grabbed handfuls of candy bars, ripping one open and eating it as if starved. Earl Ray was thinking of the two men back at the café and how they had fallen on the food.
The gunshot report echoed down the main drag as they came out of the store. His heart sank. He thought of the cowboy and armed woman who’d been sitting at the counter. Had they decided to make their move with Gene out of the way? Not a bad idea. But it would have been better if there hadn’t been a gunshot.
Gene pulled his gun, shoved Earl Ray and Lars ahead of him, forcing them to hurry toward the café, a gun at their backs. Earl Ray ran as best he could with his hip hurting from banging into the vehicle earlier. His pulse thundered in his ears. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good. He thought about Bessie and felt his chest tighten.
* * *
CULHANE HAD NO CHOICE. He carefully put down the pan of cinnamon rolls and the spatula on an empty table as Bobby, using Alexis as a shield, motioned him back toward the counter. The room had erupted in chaos and cries of fear and panic again.
“Tyrell!” the older man was screaming.
“Fred, don’t!” Bessie yelled from her booth.
Culhane swore under his breath as he raised his hands and backed up all the way to the counter and sat down. He could see that Bobby was jumpier than hell, as if he’d already been through something like this and was now reliving it. The hand holding the weapon shook with anger and pain. He’d been burned by the hot coffee now staining his blue shirt and was angry enough that he might shoot Alexis without any further provocation.
Meanwhile Fred was trying to wrestle a cell phone away from his son who was shot and bleeding on the floor. The phone, suddenly loose, skittered across the floor, out of Tyrell’s reach.
His gun digging into his back, Culhane wanted to pull it and take his chances. But not with Bobby already on edge with a gun to Alexis’s head and Eric—
At the sound of another gunshot, he started. Tyrell let out a scream of pain. Culhane had been hoping he was wrong about the twentysomething from the garage and body shop. But Tyrell had not only done something stupid that had gotten him shot twice, but also he’d completely screwed up Culhane and Alexis’s plan. This was why he never planned anything, he thought as he saw that Eric looked ready to fire again. The gunman had moved toward the two wrestling on the floor in their garage-uniform overalls.
Culhane could see that the second bullet had caught Tyrell in the throat. He was now gasping and holding his neck, blood pouring through his fingers. Fred was struggling to get up, to help his son. Eric stalked over to the pair, raised his gun and fired the third shot point-blank into the side of the young man’s head.
As Tyrell slumped the re
st of the way to the floor, Fred screamed and lunged at Eric, only to be shot. Fred grabbed his chest, stumbling a step before he crumpled to the floor next to his son.
The café erupted in pandemonium. Both Bobby and Eric looked as if they wanted to kill everyone. Bessie hugged the frantic teenage waitress as others in the café began to cry harder—including the baby.
The front door banged open, the tinkle of the bell drowned out by the boom of Gene’s voice as he shoved both Lars and Earl Ray into the room. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, his weapon drawn.
The noise became louder. “Everyone shut up!” He waved his gun around the room. There was a gasp, sobs were choked back and people recoiled.
Bobby gave Alexis a shove away, the weapon still trained on her. She slipped on the spilled coffee on the floor and went down on one knee—just feet from Gene. He aimed his gun at her as she started to get up, but instead of firing the weapon, he shoved her with his foot, sending her sliding across the floor to end up next to the booth with mother and baby.
As if by instinct, she reached for the crying baby in the carrier next to her. “Shh,” she whispered as she lifted the baby from the carrier and held the infant to her breast as she got slowly to her feet.
The sight of her holding that baby was almost Culhane’s undoing. It looked so natural and so surprising to see this strong, independent, kick-butt former sheriff’s detective suddenly so tender as she soothed the infant. He’d known this side of Alexis, this gentle, caring, loving side. Just as he’d known that she wanted marriage and children—something he’d said wasn’t in his future. He now regretted ever saying it.
How could he deny her motherhood if she stayed with him? It would have been criminal, seeing that baby in her arms. The baby quieted, and the people in the room began to calm down some as well.
“Go sit down,” Gene ordered Alexis, motioning with his gun.