by Lynn Red
Laney had watched enough police procedurals in her day to know that guns had different amounts of bullets in them, and she’d seen enough of the gun to know it was a revolver.
“So, two more shots,” she said to herself, talking aloud to try and calm her nerves. “At least, I think he’s got two more. And I think that thing was a revolver.”
And there it was: the self-doubt and the confusion that had made her run from Rip after their romp through the forest. Bubbling up from deep under the surface, she felt every shred of regret and anger at herself strike her immediately in the forehead. Her heart, that previously had been calm, except for the strain of running, was thudding heavily in her chest. Her back teeth ached, either from her gritting them, or because somehow fear and tardy trepidation had made her sinuses hurt. Either explanation didn’t make much sense, but then again, not a whole lot made sense to her right then.
She took a deep breath. “Okay Laney, just calm down. He’s got two more shots, and you’re not alone anyway. There are plenty of people just over there.”
Unconsciously, she’d edged closer to the alley’s entrance. She peeked around the corner, trying to remember where he was, but when she did, the gun-toting lion had vanished. “Took too long,” she whispered. “He’s probably behind the dumpster.”
Consciously, she forced herself to breathe in long, slow, patient inhalations. “He’s behind the dumpster. There are two barriers between you and him.”
The idea that she didn’t know for sure he was behind the dumpster wasn’t lost on Laney, and as she peeked again, she caught a glimpse of a foot hanging limply from a deep-set windowsill.
She knew this street. She knew this alley. She’d been working across from it for most of her adult life, and had eaten at the sandwich shop that window belonged to.
“What the fuck am I doing?” she asked herself. “I’m gonna get myself shot. This is straight up bonkers-ass crazy.”
“Don’t do this,” a voice hit her from behind. She had been so tensed up and crazy that she just about jumped straight out of her skin. When she landed from her six inch vertical hop, she came down with a sprouted tail, and teeth that were too big for a human mouth. When she turned and saw Rip, she dropped her mouth open and just stared.
Suddenly, some of the things she’d read in the gossip rags came rushing back. “You better not be faking some ridiculous assassination attempt. I swear to god if you’re—”
Rip silenced her with a kiss. As soon as his lips touched hers, her leonine features vanished, and her heart beat shrank back to something approaching normal. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, all of it. There was the hint of dirt on his clothes, and the vaguest brush of cologne that she remembered from the woods. It was spicy, leathery, and filled her with urges that no one reasonable would have when facing down a lunatic with a gun and holding onto someone who’d just been shot.
“So this isn’t some kind of fake out?”
“I was coming out,” he said and then held up his good arm. “Not like that,” he chuckled softly. “I’m tired of hiding, Laney. I’m tired of trying to live in the shadows. I never faked my own death, nothing like that. I just got sick of all the heat on me for my admittedly radical views on shifter rights, and needed to get away.”
“So this whack job in the alley is really trying to kill you?” Laney asked.
He brushed his hair back and squeezed her hand as he pulled it away from his lightly stubbled cheek. She hadn’t realized she was touching him until just then. “Not the first time,” he said in a soft voice. Probably won’t be the last. I can’t ask you to do something, to be with me. That’s what I realized before I stared talking. I can’t put you in danger for something like this.”
Laney wrinkled her forehead. “Are you my mom?” she asked with a short huff of air out her nose. “No? Because if you aren’t, then you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
She briefly considered putting a hand on her hip and snapping at him, but thought that might be just a little too 90’s attitude to be taken seriously.
“Laney,” Rip said slowly, “think about what you’re doing. You almost got shot.”
“Yeah, well, you did get shot. And the cops are apparently going the other direction, so all I’m doing is making sure he gets caught. He’s got a gimp leg and he’s stuck in the window about fifty feet down the alley.”
Rip winced heavily as he lifted his wounded arm.
“And you need to be in a hospital,” she added, shooting a glance at his bleeding shoulder.
“Are you my mom?” he asked with a grin that disarmed her. When she didn’t laugh, he kept yammering. “Er, I mean, I’ll probably do exactly what you say, that was just a joke.”
“Not a very good one,” she said. “I knew it was a joke, it just wasn’t funny. That’s why I didn’t laugh.”
“Jeez, rough crowd.”
“You goddamn liar!” a screech from the alleyway, presumably from the guy Laney chased back there, interrupted their brief comedy act. “You’re tryin’ to sucker innocent people! You’re tryin’ to bust up everything shifter’s been working for all these years! We finally get to leave our little towns and go to real movies in big cities without bein’ scared and you want us to get all militant!”
Rip closed his eyes tightly and lifted his hand to his nose, squeezing the bridge. “And then there’s this,” he said. “This is why I ran away.”
“Can we talk?” he called back to the whack job. “You throw that gun this way, my mate will take it,” he paused and lifted a shushing hand to Laney, as if to say ‘just play along with it’ although she had no arguments about being called his mate. “She’ll take the gun, she’ll go tell the cops you got away and we’ll talk this thing out like civilized people. Okay?”
“Are you nuts?” Laney asked. “You’re shot, you idiot!”
“Aware of that,” Rip said.
He turned his attention back to the alley. “I know you’ve got a bad leg,” he shouted. Rip flattened himself against the wall and slid close to the corner. “I know you’re upset, and I want to talk. No one needs to get hurt, no one needs to get in trouble. I know you’re just doing what you think is right.”
“He’s nuts,” Laney said to herself. “Absolutely goddamn bonkers. And I’m still standing here.”
“Aware of that, too,” Rip said, squeezing Laney’s hand again.
“I was talking to myself.”
He smiled, but before he could say anything, the man in the alley shouted out again. “You serious?” he asked. There was fear in his voice – that upward lilt people get when they’re questioning everything they’re doing and want a way out, even if they can’t see what that might be. “You ain’t just gonna jump on me?”
“I might, if you don’t.” Laney snarled.
Rip laughed silently and shushed her again. “He’s just scared. More scared than either of us. Trust me, I’ve been around these people for a long, long time.”
“I still don’t even know who you are.”
“You will,” he answered. “And you already do. More than you know. I’ve never been more myself than I am around you, no matter how brief our time has been. You make me feel safe. This really isn’t the time, though.”
“You’re the one who started,” she said, although Laney was smiling to herself. “If you’re sure, then I trust you.”
“I haven’t heard that in a long time,” Rip said.
“I haven’t said it in a long time,” Laney replied.
“Throw out the gun!” Rip called. “She’s right here beside me. She’ll grab it and take it to the cops. What will make you believe me?”
On cue, the police sirens were finally headed toward the alley. Rip cursed under his breath. “This needs to be quick!” he said. “They’re coming, and I don’t want any part of them. Neither do you.”
“Come around the corner,” the shooter said. “If I’m supposed to trust you, you gotta trust me.”
Rip began to m
ove, but Laney held him back. “He already shot you once!”
“Didn’t do a very good job of it,” he said. “Hell, didn’t even do a good enough job to keep me from getting away from a gaggle of EMTs and coming over here while they were all busy shuffling around and trying to figure out what was happening.”
“Point conceded,” Laney said.
“Listen. I’m going to do this. He’s gonna throw that gun, because he’s only got one bullet left and he’s not sure he can hit me.”
“Two,” Laney said. “I think.”
Rip shook his head. Then he leaned in, pressed his full, soft lips against Laney’s throat, sending a snake of electric pleasure wiggling down her belly. “I’ll be fine.”
Laney took a deep breath and forced herself to stop shaking. “Kick it to me,” she said. “And I swear, if he kills you, I’m gonna be pissed.”
Another easy smile slightly melted the tension that she’d wrenched up in her shoulders.
He nodded. “I’m coming around the corner,” he called. “Just toss the gun and I’ll get you out of here. We’ll talk and that will be that.”
No answer came, but Rip did just what he said he would. He stepped around the corner with his hands outstretched in front of him. “I’m coming around. I don’t have any weapons. All I’ve got are my clothes and the bandage the EMTs tied around my shoulder. You in that window?”
The man stepped down, and as he did, Laney poked her head around the corner. She finally got a good view of him. He was stooped, but not terribly so. He stepped out of the window frame first with his right leg, then braced himself to support his weight as he brought down his left. “How’re you gonna get me out?” he called.
“Throw the damn gun!” Rip shouted. “One thing at a time. I trusted you, you trust me, that’s how this works.”
Holding the revolver by the handle, with two fingers, the old man let it hang. “Okay,” he said, “here.”
The gun flew in a low arc and hit the concrete. As it did, Laney saw that it was still cocked. “Get down!” she screeched, but too late. The pistol tumbled from handle to hammer. A decided bang and a brilliant flash rang out. She tensed up once again, dove for the weapon, and as she landed heavily on it, saw a hole in the dumpster that hadn’t been there before. She breathed one deep sigh of relief, but as soon as she did, she knew she had to move.
And quick.
The police had come near enough that their shouting was starting to hurt her ears, and the sirens were nauseating in their loud pulsation. Laney looked over toward Rip, who had somehow picked the old shifter up and made his way to another fork in the alleyway. He pointed right, and vanished from sight.
“I’ve got the gun!” Laney called to the police. “It’s right here, but the guy’s gone, he shot at me and ran!”
“Get on the ground!” one of them called out with his bullhorn. “Slide the gun this way.”
She did as she was told. Again, she’d seen enough police procedurals to know that screwing around when a firearm was in play was far from a good idea. “Here you go,” she said, reaching underneath herself and shoving the weapon along the ground. It skidded about ten feet before it stopped. A handful of officers, none of whom Laney recognized, rushed to where she was. One of them grabbed the gun, and the others grabbed her, pulling her to her feet.
“What’s your part in all this?” the one with the most bars on his collar asked.
Laney was visibly shaken, which played into what she’d just said. “Sorry,” she held her hands up, “I’m just... he shot at me a couple of times, and then threw the gun. It misfired or something before I jumped on it.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” There wasn’t a shred of interest in her story in the cop’s voice. “There’s something going on and we need to catch that lunatic.”
Laney shook her head. “I was scared he was going to shoot again. I was scared it’d hit the library and maybe hurt one of the cubs,” she lied through her teeth. Luckily, she was convincing enough, and an unlikely enough hero, that the officer accepted what she said.
“Brave thing you did,” he offered. “Stupid, but brave. You said he got away? Did you see which way he ran?”
“I—” Laney stammered four or five times. “I think he went left at the fork down there. There’s a walking path there that leads into the woods and to a river. I’d guess that’s where he’s headed.”
Her heart was, once again, thudding heavily in her chest. She wasn’t a natural liar, not at all, although she was happy she managed to sell it when it came down to the wire. She knew that carrying a lion-shifter wasn’t any easy task, especially with a screwed up arm. It would take every shred of strength Rip had to get some distance between them and the police, and then figure in motorcycles and cars?
“Right,” the guy said. “I’m sorry, I’m Lieutenant Graves. Thanks for your help. I hope we don’t have to call out the chopper,” he said. “That thing costs a damn fortune to fill up, even when gas is cheap. Can you give me a brief description?”
“Lion shifter,” Laney said, searching her memory. “He was older, had a bit of a hunch in his back. As far as clothes, just a plain shirt and blue jeans. I wasn’t paying much attention to be honest with you.”
“Makes sense,” he said. “Anything else you can remember?”
Laney pinched her eyes closed. “Limp,” she said. “He was limping on his left leg. I don’t know if he got hurt running, or if it was an old thing. That’s all I can remember.”
Graves barked orders into the radio attached to his shoulder. “You get back to the crowd,” he said. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Just banged up from jumping,” Laney said. “And got a cut from some of the brick when he shot the wall. That’s it.”
“I hate doing this,” Graves said, “but do you mind going back over there yourself? We’re not exactly the most heavily manned force in the world and we need to catch this asshole before he hurts someone else.”
He didn’t mention Rip one single time. They’ve got no idea he was over here. How can that be possible? How can they have no idea that the guy who got shot wasn’t anywhere near where he’d been shot? She couldn’t accept simple incompetence as a viable answer, but then again, it didn’t seem like any of them really cared about him.
“Did you see the guy who got shot?” she asked. “I mean, the one standing at the podium thing?”
“He’s back with the medics,” Graves said. “Looks like a nasty wound, but it’s just a graze. He’ll be all right.”
Laney, confused as all hell, started to trek toward the press corps, but the officer grabbed her arm and then immediately apologized. “I’m real shook up,” he said. “That was rude. Anyway, did the guy say anything about why he shot? Was it some kind of assassination attempt? All I know is the guy who got shot was some kind of hot shot academic or something, I dunno.”
Laney shrugged. “I was too worried about him not hurting anyone else to really delve into his motivations,” she said, which was true enough. But then something else struck him. “I think he was scared,” she added. “He wasn’t talking like someone who wanted to hurt anyone. I think he was just terrified of what was going to happen. He panicked.”
The cop thought about this for a brief moment and then chewed the corner of his moustache in a way Laney recognized from one of her uncles. Graves grunted. “Well, all right. I’ll keep that in mind. Lot of that going around these days. Anyway, thanks for the help.”
Laney paced slowly back toward the place where the news guys were buzzing around, and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of amazing disappearing act Rip had pulled to get away. And then there was the bizarre thing he’d did after he arrived.
Who the hell gets shot, and then catches the guy who did it, and gets him away from the police so they can talk it out? She shook her head and then wrapped her arms around herself, clutching tight. She blended seamlessly into the confused crowd. Amazingly, no one hassled her, no one asked about
her chasing the shooter. None of it made any sense, but she was glad for it.
She elbowed her way through the reporters, who were all far too busy babbling into microphones and preening in front of their camera crews to be bothered. One of them turned to face her and she thought she was about to have to perjure herself on national TV as well as to the police, but the white-haired reported waved someone over who was standing just past her.
Laney breathed a sigh of relief and kept right on walking.
She skated past the medics, and past the dais where everything started, then right back through the library’s front door.
“You’re in love,” Elaine said as she clutched her friend to her chest. “And you’re fucking crazy. You just chased that psycho.”
Laney smiled weakly, and then let go of the tears she’d been holding in since Rip took off. “I have no idea,” Laney said. “It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And he’s gone,” she said.
“Wait, what? How? Those EMTs or paramedics or whatever took him to the hospital.”
Laney shook her head. “I chased the guy who shot him—an old man with a limp, just a scared old man—into an alley. He took a couple pot shots at me, and then Rip showed up.”
“Shut the front door,” Elaine deadpanned. She always used fake curses when she was especially amazed. “How?”
“I don’t know, but he did. And then he talked the guy into tossing his gun. He wanted to talk to him. None of it makes any damn sense.”
“In a way,” Elaine said, “it sort of does.”
“How, Wendy? How the hell does that make any sense.”
Elaine shook her head. “Gentle souls are like that,” she said. “No matter how fiery and blustery he might be when he gives speeches, he just wants the world to be a better place.”