Triggered by Love

by Rachelle Ayala

  “That was a low blow.” She shot him a glare. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You seem edgy and uncomfortable.”

  He again patted his gun, knowing how stupid he was. If anyone was watching, he’d given away the side he’d pull his gun from.

  Avery put her hand over his and sat down.

  “Stop fidgeting,” she said. “Let’s try and have a good time tonight. We can go shooting tomorrow if you need to let off steam.”

  “Remember what I taught you,” he said, leaning over and whispering. “Front sight, rear sight, equal height, and equal light.”

  Avery introduced Jason to the people who sat next to them who ran in Richie’s social circle. Some complimented her on her successful fashion show, but thankfully, no one mentioned her supposed suicide attempt.

  One mutual acquaintance wondered why Larry Leach hadn’t been seen lately. He remarked that Larry hadn’t attended her fashion show, and it was rumored he’d had a falling out with his father and had gone to Europe.

  Avery shrugged when the acquaintance asked if Professor Leach was pleased with the results of the show.

  “I haven’t spoken to him,” she replied when pressed. “I did take his advice and eschew the animal effects, other than on Matt Swanson.”

  “That was wise. It made him stand out. Is it true you’re dating him?”

  “Among others,” Avery said and shut down the conversation with a smile and a kiss to Jason’s face.

  Once the show started, Jason seemed to relax, relative to his hypervigilance. He sat stiffly, although not leaning forward, and he’d left his jacket unbuttoned so he could easily reach his sidearm.

  Avery wondered what trouble he was expecting. As far as she knew, Professor Leach was cowering in his penthouse and Congressman Overton had no clue what was going to hit the fan.

  Richie had called her before the show and asked her if she’d gotten his box of chocolates. She’d forgotten all about it, but she passed it off and said she enjoyed the treats.

  Soon, she was entranced by the many magnificent costumes, the rousing songs, and the high energy dances. The love story between Maria Schitt and Tony Triumph would be ruined by Adam Schitt’s villainy, but while it lasted, Avery’s heartstrings soared with the arias Tony serenaded Maria with.

  Close to the finale, she recognized Harvey in the chorus line as a dancing soldier. She shook Jason’s arm. “There’s Harvey. Second from the right.”

  Instead of nodding, Jason’s entire body stiffened, as if he expected trouble.

  “He’s not exactly going to shoot me while flinging his head and strutting in a goosestep.” Avery laughed.

  Instead of chuckling, Jason shushed her harshly. “Stay alert.”

  “Alert? For what?” She elbowed him, bumping the Glock. “Is this how it’s always going to be with you? We can never relax and enjoy ourselves? You’re always thinking about work?”

  His answer was a hot, probing kiss that ruined her lipstick and left her panting for more.

  Typical Jason. Rough around the edges, but instantly forgiven. She pulled his right arm over her shoulder and leaned against him to watch the final confrontation.

  And saw red.

  A pinpoint of light danced over her face and onto Jason.

  At the same time, he jumped up and grabbed his gun.

  A glint of light sparkled from the set behind the dancers who were kicking up a storm with their goosesteps. At the same time, the Adam Schitt actor picked up his pistol while singing curses at the hero, Tony Triumph.

  “It’s not the actor or the dancers,” Avery screamed. “Laser up there. Fire escape on the set.”

  Pop. Pop.

  Jason raised his arm and dropped the gun. Blood splattered Avery’s face, and the red light ran down her chest. She dove for the Glock. Another shot splattered stuffing from her seatback cushion.

  She raised Jason’s gun and pointed it at the strobing light and laser pinpoint.

  Front sight, rear sight, equal height, equal light.

  Holding her breath, she depressed the trigger.

  Screams erupted all around her. The shooter fell from the fire escape and tumbled down onto the scattering chorus line. Dancers leaped from the stage. Musicians abandoned their instruments, and a stampede of screaming patrons thundered from the theater.

  “Get down,” Jason shouted, reaching for her with his good arm.

  She lunged over him, protecting him from more shots.

  “What are you doing?” Jason tried to push her off. “Run, hide. Go. In case he takes another shot.”

  “I won’t let him kill you.” She pushed her hands over his bleeding wound. “Stay with me. Don’t you go dying on me. I love you, Jason.”

  “Well, in that case, if you love me, I don’t think I’ll be dying.” Even in pain, he was able to smirk and grin like the rascal he was.

  Avery covered him with kisses, and Jason’s good arm curved around her. He held her tight in a grip that told her he had her exactly where she wanted to be.

  A hair trigger for love.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Jason’s arm was on fire, but that didn’t stop him from giving Avery’s mouth and tongue a thorough licking, right before he pushed her off him. “Sorry, I have to catch the shooter.”

  “But you’re hurt. Someone, call nine-one-one!” Avery was covered with blood and fumbling through her evening bag for her phone.

  While she was distracted, Jason grabbed one of the orchestra chairs and launched himself onto the stage. All around him, dancers, actors, musicians, and singers were scrambling for the exits.

  He spotted Harvey Leach and tackled him, flattening the wiry dancer to the wooden floor. “You’re under arrest.”

  “It wasn’t me. I swear. It was the priest up on the roof. I mean the character.” He pointed at the set which depicted a luxurious Upper East Side penthouse. “He fell off the fire escape.”

  Jason ran toward the screams. The actress for Maria Schitt was screaming her head off and pushing her hands into the wounds of a man dressed as the priest who was supposed to marry the Maria and Tony characters before the Adam character broke it up.

  “Blade, Blade,” she cried. “You idiot. You big fat idiot.”

  Jason couldn’t believe what he was hearing and seeing. He yanked the woman’s wig off and recognized Tatiana Renzi, but even worse, the man dressed in priestly robes was his effing partner, Blade Camden.

  “What the fuck?” Jason exploded over him. “You’re the shooter?”

  “Hell no, I’m not,” Blade said. “I’m here to protect you and Avery, but she shot me and let the perp get away. It was the Adam Schitt actor. He was going to shoot you. I tried to take him out, and I missed.”

  “Who is the Adam Schitt actor and why would he shoot Avery?” Jason gave Blade a disbelieving huff.

  “It’s Trent Gallagher,” Blade said. “Don’t you get it? He’s supposed to shoot the Tony Triumph character on Fifth Avenue, but instead of shooting him, he was going to take you guys out. All I was doing was stopping him.”

  “That’s not true,” Tatiana said. “Trent’s gun shoots blanks.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Blade’s voice rose to a whine.

  “My own.” She kicked him.

  Jason grabbed Tatiana’s arm. “Where did Trent go? Where’s his gun?”

  “Over there!” She pointed and kneed Jason in the groin at the same time.

  Pain shot through him, made worse by his injured arm.

  “Let me have my gun.” Blade gasped for breath. He reached for the gun he dropped with one hand while the other one was pressed onto his bleeding side. Another wound on his thigh spurted blood.

  Jason managed to kick the gun from Blade’s reach. He tried not to drop his own blood onto the evidence bag he carried. He couldn’t catch Trent right now, but he had to make sure Blade didn’t get away.

  “Gimme my gun.” Blade’s voice gurgled.

  “Nope, if you fired it, it’s evide
nce.” Jason dropped it into the bag. “Didn’t know you carried a Smith & Wesson Shield with a laser. Looks like you gave away your location, and Avery picked you off.”

  “She shot the wrong guy. Give it to me.” Despite being on the floor and in obvious pain, Blade made a desperate attempt for the gun.

  Jason took a step back and addressed the remaining people surrounding Blade. “I’m NYPD Detective Jason Burnett. I’ll be taking everyone’s statements. No one move. Stay where you are with your hands behind your heads.”

  Instead of obeying, everyone turned tail and ran, including Tatiana. Jason gave chase, but she leaped up and grabbed one of the ropes the dancers used to swing themselves down from the mock fire escape and jumped off the stage.

  “She’s getting away,” Jason shouted, elbowing his way through the crowd. He sprinted out to the limo line where pandemonium mixed with screaming sirens and drivers honking their horns. Panicked people darted for limos, and fender benders popped left and right.

  “There he is.” Avery’s voice rose above the din.

  Jason darted between two limos with his gaze fixed on the rapidly departing figure of Maria Schitt wearing a red flamenco dress.

  Someone tackled him, and multiple sets of hands grabbed him.

  “You’re under arrest.” An NYPD officer cuffed him.

  “He’s been shot,” Avery said. “He needs an ambulance.”

  “I have the shooter’s gun,” Jason said. “It’s Blade Camden. He’s a crooked cop.”

  “He says you are,” the responding officer, Vinnie DeBrassos, said.

  Cameras surrounded them, so Jason turned to all the bright lights. “Hey, you reporters. Report this. The gun used to shoot me is in this evidence bag. The bullet is still in my arm. The blood on the gun belongs to Blade Camden and if there are any prints, they are his too. Another bullet is lodged in one of the seats. Report this before the police department switches the evidence. A Glock 26 was used by Avery Cockburn to neutralize Blade Camden, who took a shot at us. Do your job and investigate why Blade Camden would want to shoot Miss Avery Cockburn. Bonus points if you can tie it up with the bombshell that will hit next week.”

  “Shut up and let’s go.” DeBrassos yanked Jason’s arm, eliciting excruciating pain.

  Jason gritted his teeth, not willing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. As best he could, he blew Avery a kiss and said, “Find Tatiana. She was the Maria Schitt actress, and Trent was the Adam Schitt actor. Don’t let them get away.”

  Jason was sent to the same hospital as Blade with both of them under police guard and under suspicion.

  Fortunately for Jason and unfortunately for Blade, ballistics evidence pointed to Blade shooting Jason and the seat behind Avery, while the bullets from Jason’s Glock were retrieved from Blade’s side and thigh.

  He was injured worse than Jason, who suffered a flesh wound in his bicep.

  The media were like sharks thrashing over the chum Jason threw into the water, and theories abounded on why a promising rookie would throw everything away by shooting his partner. Some thought there was a love triangle with Avery in the middle, whereas others rumored drug deals gone bad.

  Blade, for his part, insisted he was protecting Avery, but even the chief could not cover for him, since he shot first before anyone was in danger. The gun Trent Gallagher was supposed to use was found in the orchestra pit, and it was loaded with blanks.

  “I’m okay to check out,” Jason announced to the doctor who treated him. His arm was in a sling, and they’d removed the bullet.

  “Be sure to keep the wound clean, and come back in a week for me to remove the stitches,” the doctor said.

  Jason signed himself out and walked across the hallway where officers guarded Blade. Chief Grimes had restored Jason because he was eager to throw Blade under the bus.

  You were right all along, Grimes had said. Blade had us all fooled. I should have known an officer dancing on the side is a liability. He’s the one with mental problems, and here I was, believing him and his girlfriend, that fake therapist. Well, here’s your badge back.

  Jason didn’t need to flash his badge at the rookie standing guard, but he did anyway and let himself into Blade’s room.

  His former partner was high on painkillers and bandaged up with his leg elevated. He’d suffered a collapsed lung and a shattered femur, and Jason wasn’t the least bit sorry.

  He pulled up a chair and straddled it backwards.

  “If you’re smart, you’d sing like a bird. Who are you and the chief covering for?”

  Blade squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, blinking. “I wish I knew, but right now, it looks like I’m the fall guy.”

  “And you’re going to just lie there and take it?” He snickered at the cop who acted like a hipster half the time, down to the triangular soul patch which he insisted the nurses keep for him.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “If you bring in the big fish, you can plea bargain.”

  “Except Grimes is in the chain of command,” Blade said. “Honestly, I do what he tells me, and he doesn’t tell me where he’s getting the orders from.”

  “Why did Tatiana call you stupid? Does she have the hots for you?” Jason quirked an eyebrow to give Blade a hard time.

  “She says I should have waited for Adam Schitt, or Trent Gallagher, to shoot first. But of course, I couldn’t. He would have shot both you and Avery.”

  “Why was Trent’s gun shooting blanks? If Tatiana was on your side, why did she point that out?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Who is she working for? The chief or someone else?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Or won’t say.”

  “I actually don’t know. She’s ingratiated herself to the police force, but I heard she’s dating both Larry Leach and Richie Overton.”

  “Woman gets around, doesn’t she? Don’t tell me you don’t have any theories.” He leaned the chair forward so it looked like it would tip. “Come on, don’t you trust me? I can help you.”

  “Why would you?”

  “I want the kingpin. The guy calling the shots. As long as he’s out there, I can’t rest.”

  “I wish I knew,” Blade said with a vacant look in his eye.

  “Who do you think? Overton or Leach?” Jason would continue to press him until he broke. “You must have some suspicion.”

  “The case can be made for both,” Blade said. “Word is Orson Leach is in love with Avery, but he’s impotent. He wants Avery to himself and got rid of that firefighter. He’s gunning for anyone else interested in Avery—like you and that football player. Larry pays off the hitmen.”

  “Why hasn’t Richie been hit? He’s been asking Avery to go with him to shows.”

  “Maybe Orson knows Richie has no chance.” Blade grimaced, shifting in the hospital bed.

  “What’s your theory on Richie and the Overtons being involved?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? They don’t want Avery’s father to win the election. If Bill Overton loses to General Cockburn, his presidential ambitions will be over.”

  “They’d kill Avery for that? I thought Richie liked her.”

  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter to me,” Blade said. “I’m looking at the chain gang.”

  “Not if you can turn in Grimes,” Jason suggested. “Be a whistleblower.”

  “I can’t do that.” Blade’s face flashed with fear.

  “Then do the time,” Jason said. “I’m pretty sure you panicked and stuck the poisoned quill into Avery. I bet you didn’t know the quills were poisoned until Riley told you.”

  Blade’s eyes bulged the same way a pufferfish’s eyes bulged right before they expanded into a prickly pear. “I didn’t, but …”

  “But you were told to make sure Avery got poked by me, weren’t you? Maybe during a selfie together, you’d give me a nudge.” Jason watched Blade’s miserable face carefully. “Too bad for you, I had the porcupine headdress removed f
rom the scene. You didn’t know how you could complete your mission, and when Riley called you, you panicked. You came prepared with a quill to frame me, didn’t you? You couldn’t get me and Avery together in the elevator. I tried to make it to the door, but it closed on me.”

  Spittle sputtered from Blade’s gaping mouth, and the heart rate monitor sped up, pinging at a higher frequency. His respiratory rate increased and so did his blood pressure.

  “You knew the jig was up when I told you Riley had found pufferfish poison,” Jason continued to press his ex-partner. “You’d already taken the money, and if you didn’t come through, you were a dead man. No excuses.”

  “It wasn’t me. I swear. It was Mrs. Bonet.” Blade’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “You made a mistake, actually several.” Jason loved making Blade squirm. “Let’s refresh your memory on the elevator. You were on the phone with me. Your cowboy hat blocked the camera, and you took a stab at Avery, then dropped the quill in Mrs. Bonet’s purse. Then you removed the memory card from Saul’s camera, in case he was taking pictures while showing images to Avery.”

  “No, no, there was no memory card.” Blade jerked upright in the bed and winced from the pain. “I searched and searched. The kid has it. He must have swallowed it or hidden it so well we haven’t found it yet.”

  “Where did you hide it? MicroSD cards are the size of a fingernail.”

  “I have nothing to say. Nothing.”

  “Then I have nothing to say to you either. Either turn state’s evidence on Chief Grimes or you better hope they put you in protective custody for the rest of your miserable life. I don’t take betrayal well.”

  “Then you should go after Avery. She’s playing you. I happen to know she’s agreed to marry a certain person in exchange for her father winning the election.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “What do you think was in the box of chocolates?”

  “I already know,” Jason lied. No way would he let Blade rattle him. He walked away, waving dismissively to Blade’s wheezing laughter and coughs.