Divorced, Desperate and Daring

by Christie Craig

  “Oh, God.” Chloe put her fingers to her trembling lips.

  Sheri touched Chloe’s arm, feeling her friend’s pain without even knowing what it was.

  “How bad is Danny?” Chloe asked.

  Air hitched in Sheri’s throat. Danny?

  “Is he going to make it?” Chloe asked.

  Instantly Sheri remembered how it felt to lay against Danny’s bare chest, how sweet his kisses were and how they had spent most of the night laughing and talking. That part had been as good as the sex. And that was saying a lot, because it had been the best sex she’d ever had.

  “What hospital?” Chloe paused. “I’m coming up.” She hung up and shot out of her chair.

  Sheri grabbed her best friend’s arm. “Is Danny . . . ?”

  Chloe blinked and stared. “You care about him, don’t you?”

  “No.” The you-just-lied knot crowded Sheri’s tonsils. “I’m dating Patrick.”

  “You told me he wasn’t . . . doing it for you.”

  Sheri frowned. “I’m having second thoughts. Forget Patrick!” And it was easy to do. “Is Danny okay?”

  “He got hit in the arm, but he’s fine. It’s Ramon. He’s in surgery. And the doctors aren’t sure if he’ll pull through.”

  A weight, a Danny-induced weight, lifted off Sheri. “I hope he makes it.”

  “Me, too.” Chloe studied her. “Do you want to come?”

  Sheri contemplated it. Then logic intervened. “No, I’m . . .”

  “Coming down with a cold?” Chloe grabbed her purse and keys from the counter. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” she snapped over her shoulder. “Lock up, and set the candy on the porch when you leave.” The request was punctuated by the too-loud whack of the closing door.

  Sheri sat there, her emotions about Danny stirring up memories she’d previously sent packing. And with them came emotions she’d thought she’d moved past.

  When her phone rang, she yanked it out of her purse, eager for a distraction.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said after seeing the number. “What’s up?”

  “My baby is turning twenty-nine,” her mom said. “You’re making me old.”

  “No, I’m not. Didn’t you hear? I sold my birthday on eBay,” Sheri said.

  Her mom’s laugh sounded like soft music—music Sheri hadn’t heard enough of lately. Was her mom finally moving past her grief?

  “I made our reservations for your birthday dinner for six on Sunday,” her mother said. “I have something special for you. And I need you to save the following Wednesday for me as well.”

  “What for?” Sheri stood and moved into the living room. Her gaze went to a bookshelf where a framed picture of her and Chloe in first grade held a prime spot. Sheri had the same picture at her house. The two of them were more like sisters than friends. Then her gaze shifted to the second framed photograph of Chloe’s husband and his two good friends. Her attention lingered on the blond in the photo, his bad-boy charm apparent even in the snapshot. She put a finger over Danny’s face.

  “Wayside Church is opening the new wing, and they are naming it after your father.”

  Just like that, Sheri’s emotional dilemma changed channels.

  “They’re having a ceremony and everything.” Excitement made her mother’s tone almost too high.

  Only because you donated fifty thousand to them. Sheri closed her eyes. Her mom, finally in cancer remission after an almost two-year battle, was still fragile. Hurting her was the last thing Sheri wanted to do, but . . .

  “I know you have issues with your dad’s service to them, but it would really be nice if you went with me. I’ve even invited Bradley.”

  Sheri’s grip on the phone tightened with her chest. She didn’t have issues with her dad’s service. Or even Bradley, her father’s illegitimate son—who, by the way, didn’t want a relationship with them. She had issues with her dad.

  For her mom, her father’s death, or maybe his remaining sober for the last six months of his life, had absolved him of all sins. Amazingly, even being a preacher’s daughter, Sheri hadn’t found it in herself to forgive.

  “That might be the day I’m working at the animal shelter.”

  “Surely you can find someone to replace you.”

  Yeah, her mom would expect that. Sheri had pretty much catered to her mom’s every whim since her cancer, and even more so since her father died.

  “I really want you there,” her mom said. “It would mean a lot to me.”

  • • •

  Danny, guilt making his shoulders heavy, walked out of the ER and made his way into the surgical waiting room. Still groggy from the meds, he had to pay serious attention to the arrows pointing the way to surgery. He stopped, sure he’d made a wrong turn, when he heard someone, a familiar someone, call his name.

  “You weren’t even going to tell me you’re in my hospital?” Her accusation rang behind him.

  He faced his cousin. “I wasn’t sure you were working tonight.”

  “You should have called me whether I was working or not! You were shot, for God’s sake. I had to find out from another nurse who came and told me!”

  “I was just grazed. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Hurt added another layer of pain to her eyes, and seeing it hurt him. “I worry you all the time, Danny. When my sink is stopped up, when my car battery won’t start, when I’m sure I’m going die from missing Trey.”

  And Anna missed Trey a lot. Not that Danny blamed her. Life could be a bitch sometimes.

  “And you don’t call me when you get shot? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

  “I should have called you, I’m just . . . Another officer, a friend of mine, was shot. It’s bad. I’m trying to get to the surgical waiting room now.”

  Danny’s chest filled with pressure. He’d been the one to set up this bust. If Ramon, his wingman, died, Danny doubted that pressure would ever go away. And living with it would be hell.

  Empathy sounded in Anna’s soft sigh. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She looped her arm around his. Something she’d done for years. While just her cousin, Danny had played the part of Anna’s big brother. “You’re the only family I’ve got. I can’t lose you.”

  “Ditto,” he said, the honesty in the one word deepening his voice.

  “This way.” She led him down another hall.

  They walked into the crowded waiting room, filled with families and friends of patients, each in their own kind of hell. So much emotion hung in the air it hurt to breathe. Cary saw them and nodded. Anna headed through the door leading back to the unit.

  “She’s going to check on him,” Danny told Cary as he sat beside him.

  “You should go home.” Cary motioned to his bloody shirt.

  “Not happening,” he told him. “Have you heard anything?” God damn it! Tell me he’s going to live.

  “He’s still in surgery.”

  Anna came back out, and the two men stood up. She leaned in and whispered, “They’re done. The doctor should be out in a minute. They said it went well.”

  “Thanks.” Danny’s chest felt fifty pounds lighter. Who knew guilt weighed so much?

  Anna looked at the door. “I need to get back to work. You okay?”

  He offered her his pat answer. “I’m working on it.”

  She pressed a hand on his forearm. “You keep doing that. I get off in an hour if you need a lift home.”

  “I’ll text you.” Danny watched his cousin leave, realizing she really was his only family and vowing to do better by her. After several silent seconds, Danny looked at Cary. “I knew there was a chance McCune and his guys would put up a fight, but I didn’t think—”

  “Don’t start that,” Cary said in a low voice. “This isn’t on you.”

  “It feels like it is.” Danny glanced over at the four Hispanic women sitting in the corner. “Is that his mother and sisters?”

  “Yeah.”<
br />
  The fear and love in the older woman’s eyes had Danny’s stomach knotting. He and Ramon had been buds for the last three months. And although Danny hadn’t met Ramon’s family, his friend had talked about his mom and his sisters a lot. About how they drove him crazy, always trying to fix him up since his divorce, but Ramon loved them.

  Loved them the way family was supposed to love each other. Danny’s gaze shifted to the variety of families supporting each other. Some held hands, some rubbed shoulders and others chatted quietly. Family support was something Danny had found from his aunt, her husband and Anna, but not from his own parents.

  Chloe, Cary’s wife, rushed in. Cary popped up, the two met halfway, and they hugged. They held on to each other like a lifeline.

  Danny thought he’d had that once. But no. His ex-wife, Tanya, had taught him how wrong he could be. It was a lesson hard to forget. One that had messed with his head and his heart. One that would sabotage the rest of his life if he couldn’t move past it. So far, he’d proved he couldn’t.

  Cary looked back and waved as he and Chloe stepped outside. Danny sat there, debating going and speaking to Ramon’s family, but lingering guilt kept him planted in his chair. Three minutes later, Cary and Chloe came back in and dropped down beside him. He nodded hello to Chloe, but she glanced away.

  Cary leaned in. “Turner called. McCune’s already lawyered up. One of his guys and one of the buyers were shot, but none fatal. They arrested four more.”

  “Marco family?” A doctor wearing scrubs appeared in the doorway.

  Danny hesitated to let Ramon’s family be first. Chloe and Cary did the same. But they moved in close enough to hear.

  “He pulled through the surgery better than I thought,” the doctor said. “The bullets didn’t do near the damage they could have. I think he’s going to be fine.”

  • • •

  After everyone in the room had been properly introduced, and hugged by Ramon’s mother, Danny, Chloe and Cary found themselves in the cafeteria drinking coffee. The pain meds were wearing off, and Danny’s shoulder had started to throb like a mother.

  Chloe kissed her husband. “I’m going to head on home.”

  “Drive safe,” Cary told her. “I’m not far behind you.”

  She rose from her chair, her gaze found Danny and she dropped back down.

  “How are you?” Chloe asked.

  “It was just a scratch.” Seven stitches, but who’s counting?

  “You sure?” Something about her tone sounded like a trick question, and he recalled she hadn’t spoken to him since she’d arrived.

  “Yeah.” Danny glanced at Cary, but he looked equally puzzled.

  Chloe smiled, but it seemed loaded with something not so pleasant. “Great. So let me preface this.” Her tone now matched her not-right smile.

  “Preface what?” Cary asked when his wife paused as if for effect.

  She ignored her husband and focused on Danny. “You know I like you. You’ve got my husband’s back, and I appreciate that. Heck, I love you for that.”

  “Now don’t go making your husband jealous,” he said, uneasy.

  “When I married my husband it was a two-way package deal. His friends came with him. And my friends with me.”

  Oh, shit. She knew. He glanced at the exit in case he needed to run. “Yeah.”

  “Liking you is one thing. Standing by and letting you hurt someone I care about is another. So when you are around my friends, you keep your best friend in your pants.”

  She stood, kissed her shocked husband’s cheek and left in a choppy pace.

  “What did you do?” Cary asked.

  “I . . . Sheri—”

  “Not Sheri!” Cary pleaded. “I told you—”

  “It wasn’t . . . I tried to fix it. She’s the one who . . .”

  “Who what?” Cary asked.

  Danny ran a palm over his face. “Nothing.” He’d screwed up. Forgiveness wasn’t a guarantee, it was a gift. One Sheri hadn’t been inclined to offer.

  • • •

  First thing on Friday morning, Danny was called into the sergeant’s office. He was ready to get an earful about how badly the bust had gone down.

  “What’s up?” Danny asked walking in, not sure he didn’t deserve an ass-chewing.

  Sergeant Adams, AKA, the boss, leaned forward at his desk and motioned for Danny to sit down. “Did you recognize any of McCune’s men?”

  “Yeah.” He had no idea where this was going. “Perkins. I’ve brought him in a few times. Small shit. I didn’t know he worked with McCune.”

  “Well, I just got a call this morning from his lawyer. He and Perkins want to talk to you. Says he has some info and wants to negotiate.”

  “Then send him to the DA,” Danny said.

  “I tried. The lawyer says he only wants to talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “He likes you.” The sergeant’s smile said there was more to the story.

  Danny frowned. “I’m not that likable.”

  “Look, Perkins said you worked a deal once. He thinks you’ll work with him, and he swears he won’t talk to anyone else.”

  “I didn’t work a deal. I went easy on him for being honest. And that was before he tried to kill me and a few of my friends.”

  “I know, but this lawyer is a pain in my ass. He’s friends with my brother-in-law. Just talk to him. Hell, maybe this guy has something we need.”

  An hour later, Danny walked into the conference room where James Perkins and his lawyer waited.

  The guy had acquired a rap sheet a mile long since he and Danny last met. Perkins didn’t deserve a deal—not this time. Danny shot across the room and prepared himself to be pissed. Hell, he was already pissed. His arm still throbbed, and Ramon was still in the hospital—hating every moment of the TLC doled out by his sisters and his mom. The fact that his sergeant even considered negotiating with this punk chapped Danny’s ass.

  All eyes in the room turned to him. Danny decided not to bullshit anyone. “You better have something good, because anyone who shoots at me or my friends gets on my bad side.”

  “You’re the only cop I know who’s fair. You didn’t let them charge me last time.”

  “Then that shows how little you know,” Danny insisted. “I’m done being fair. Damnedest thing, it happens when people try to kill me.”

  Sure, Danny knew it wasn’t Perkins’ bullet that had gotten either him or Ramon, but not from his lack of trying, and only because he was a piss-poor shot.

  “It’s good,” Perkins said.

  “Not so fast,” his lawyer said. “We want a deal on the table.”

  “Don’t try to blow smoke up my ass. You know I can’t make any deals. That’s the DA’s job. And I wouldn’t even pretend to think about a deal until I know what he’s got.”

  The lawyer already looked frustrated, and Danny had even tried yet. “Someone contacted Mr. Perkins to do a hit.”

  “A hit on who?” Danny asked, vaguely interested, but only mildly.

  The lawyer held up his hand to silence Perkins. “What are you offering?”

  “I told ya, I don’t offer deals, and I’m not even gonna think of going to DA until I know who it is. You see, I might not give a rat’s ass if this guy lives or not. Because chances are, he’s a piece of shit and deserves to get whacked.” The lie left his lips easily. His job required he give a rat’s ass, even to the undeserving.

  “She,” Perkins said. “It’s a chick, probably as innocent as a puppy.”

  That knocked Danny’s argument down a notch, but he tried not to show it. “Puppies don’t usually land on someone’s hit list.”

  Perkins frowned. “This one got unlucky.”

  “Who wants her dead?” Danny asked. “Husband? Boyfriend?” Nine times out of ten, that’s who was guilty.

  “I don’t know. He said a friend of a friend gave him my name. He approached me at The Devil’s Bar.”

  “You don’t know his name or
haven’t seen him hanging there before?”

  “No.”

  Danny sighed. “When did this happen?”

  “Last Saturday. He offered me ten thousand. I told him I didn’t off girls.”

  “You must be up for sainthood,” Danny said.

  Perkins snarled. “Some chick is gonna die, and it’s going to be on your ass.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong. You don’t know who this guy is, or how to get in touch with him. How’s this going to do me any good?”

  “I got her name. And if he approached me, he’ll approach someone else.”

  “What’s her name?” Danny asked.

  “We don’t give anything else until we get at least your word that you’ll help us work a deal with the DA,” the lawyer said again.

  “Okay,” Danny said, pissed he had to do it, but he knew a wall when he was against one. “Here’s what I can give you. Tell me her name. If it’s the real deal, I’ll talk to the DA about offering you a lesser sentence.”

  “Lesser? I don’t want to do time.”

  Danny shook his head. “There are no get-out-of-jail-free cards. You’re doing time. It’s a matter of two years or ten.”

  The lawyer whispered something in Perkins’ ear. He moaned. “Sheri Thompson.”

  Danny’s breath caught. “Is this a joke?”

  “What?” Perkins said, and Danny could read the man’s face enough to know he wasn’t pulling a fast one. Besides, how would he know Danny had a connection to a Sheri Thompson?

  Danny felt his heart play base against his chest bone and he could feel the rush of his pulse at the side of his neck. Wait, there was only a one-in-three chance it was her. He knew, because he’d personally done that search when she’d refused to take his phone calls six months ago.

  “Where does this Sheri Thompson live?” Don’t say in the Forest Hill Condos. “Answer me!”

  “I don’t know. When I told him I didn’t do chicks, he left.”

  “Do you have an age, a location, anything? Do you know how many Sheri—”

  “I gave you a name. And there’s going to be one less chick wearing that name tag if you don’t do something fast. That guy was serious.”