Divorced, Desperate and Daring

by Christie Craig

  “Impressive,” he muttered.

  “It’s not just that they are better candidates, I’m not a candidate. I work PR. Most of my clients are either florists or children’s writers. I volunteer at the animal shelter. I don’t have enemies.” I’m a preacher’s daughter. “Who would want me dead?”

  He actually seemed to consider the question. “The guy who just left here seemed pretty pissed off.”

  “He wasn’t until you showed up. We were getting along just fine.”

  “Yeah, I saw.” His tone indicated he thought he had a right to tell her who she should or shouldn’t make out with.

  He so better not go there! The man was a horn dog. Full-fledged, pedigreed horn dog.

  “Look, this is silly. You are making a big deal out of something that doesn’t even involve me. And there’s a Sheri out there who needs to be protected. So why don’t you go—”

  “No.” His expression went from stubborn to damn stubborn. “Until we know for sure, it’s a big deal. And I’ve got someone checking on them.”

  Sheri’s cell, still in the kitchen, rang. She took off. Danny followed. She grabbed her phone and looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s Chloe. She’s probably all upset.”

  Right then, Danny’s phone rang again. He looked down and then added, “It’s Cary. He’s pissed. No probably about it.”

  She waved her hand. “Answer it and tell him you overreacted.”

  “I didn’t overreact,” Danny said.

  She glared at him. He glared right back. After three more rings, both of their phones stopped ringing, only to be replaced by another ring. Or rather a bell. Her doorbell. Taco barked and ran to sniff out the visitor.

  She took a step to answer it.

  Danny caught her arm. “Don’t answer it until you know who it is.”

  His touch sent currents of emotion right to her chest, bringing with it memories of their night. One night. It shouldn’t have left such an impression on her, but it had. How could something that felt that right have been all wrong? She stared at his hand holding her. He let go.

  She went to take another step.

  He caught her again but didn’t hold on this time. “From here. Ask who it is, from here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Who is it?” she called out. Taco made snorting noises as he sniffed around the bottom of the door.

  “Pizza delivery,” the male voice answered.

  Pizza? Her breath got stuck on her tonsils. She looked at Danny. Hadn’t she just seen a Law and Order where the hit man pretended to be . . .

  “You didn’t order pizza, did you?” he asked, but she could tell by his expression, and probably due to her own expression, he already knew the answer.

  He pulled out his gun.

  This had to be a nightmare! She reached down and pinched herself again.

  Chapter Three

  Sheri shook her head. Her heart started thumping, her mind commenced to racing, her dog went straight to drooling. Did someone really want her dead?

  Danny pulled her back into the kitchen. The doorbell rang again. Taco barked.

  “Taco,” she called out, “here!” The dog, drool oozing from his jowls, followed the command and came and bumped up against Danny, leaving a string of slobber dangling from his jeans.

  “Do you have a gate that leads to the front?” His low tone sounded like it came from a scary movie.

  She nodded and looked at her French doors. Then she realized she’d seen this movie. And it didn’t end well. “Stop,” she said. “He . . . might have a gun.”

  “So do I. Get in the bedroom and lock the door. If I’m not back here in a few seconds, call 911.” He took a step to leave.

  “Wait.” This time, she caught his arm. “Can’t we just call the police?”

  “I am the police.”

  “Someone besides you!” she bit out.

  His blue eyes caught hers with a flash of warmth. His expression told her he knew. Knew she cared. And she did. Not that it meant anything. She was a preacher’s daughter. She cared about a lot of stuff. She cared about most people. She cared about that opossum she’d run over last week.

  “I’ll be okay,” he said. “I’m going to be all right.”

  “I . . . I want someone . . . competent.” She hadn’t meant what it implied, but it came out and she might as well run with it.

  “And I’m not?”

  “You . . . you just got shot!” she said, still gripping his arm.

  The doorbell rang again. The dog started back into the living room. “No, Taco!” She released Danny and grabbed the animal by the collar.

  “Go to your bedroom!” Looking insulted, Danny took off.

  She stood there, her heart fluttering, her pulse trying to catch up. Not breathing. She hadn’t been ordered to her bedroom in . . . Oh, hell!

  One step, that’s all she took toward the bedroom. That’s when it hit. The flight-or-fight instinct. She’d been born a natural fighter, but her father had worked hard to get the turn-the-other-cheek adage into her, and in some ways it had worked. But in other ways . . .

  If Danny got shot, she’d feel really bad. Even worse than she did about the opossum.

  She swung around, snatched her purse, pulled out her pepper spray and hauled ass to the front door.

  She heard Danny yell out, “Police!”

  Banging noises, like a fight, echoed from outside. Envisioning the pizza guy shooting Danny, she stepped to the side and slung open the door. A pizza box flew past her. The pizza guy started forward. She held out her canister and pressed the nozzle, but before the spray left the canister, the pizza delivery guy fell forward.

  “Shit!” Danny muttered.

  And then everything went crazy. Or crazier.

  She got hit by the pizza guy. Danny got hit with the pepper spray. The pizza guy’s crotch got hit by her knee. Taco didn’t get hit by anything, but he did get the pizza. And considering he was lactose intolerant, that was not a good thing.

  That’s when Cary and Chloe showed up.

  Sheri saw Cary literally pick up Chloe and move her behind him. Then he swung around and pulled out his gun. “Police. Don’t move!”

  Sheri didn’t think he was talking to her, but she didn’t dare move.

  • • •

  Danny’s eyes were on fire.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Danny heard Cary bellow the question he wanted to ask. He thought his friend was holding his Glock on the pizza delivery guy. Thought. Danny couldn’t see shit. The pepper spray hadn’t been a direct hit but damn close. It burned like hell. And not just his eyes, but everything from his neck up. Tears ran down his face, and his nose started running like a damn water faucet. His mouth watered, and he felt drool leak out onto his chin. Now he was as bad as the dog.

  “Check him for weapons.” Danny tucked his gun back in his holster.

  “I don’t have weapons!” pizza boy muttered.

  Danny blinked and could almost make out the guy on the floor, in the fetal position and apparently holding his crotch. But Danny’s mind couldn’t stay on the kid’s problem.

  “Milk,” Danny muttered, remembering one of the remedies for pepper spray.

  “Drop it! Don’t eat that,” Sheri screamed. Danny supposed she was talking to her dog.

  “Why is he here?” Chloe asked.

  Danny supposed she was talking about him.

  “Lay flat on your back, and hold your arms out!” Cary ordered.

  “I can’t,” pizza guy ground out. “She hit me in the balls.”

  “Find out if he’s legit.” Blinking away tears, practically blind, Danny got up, breathing through his teeth to keep from moaning from his pain.

  “Legit?” Cary asked.

  “See if he really delivers pizza!” He nudged a feminine shape, hoping it was Sheri. “Come with me to the kitchen.”

  “Are you hit?” Cary asked.

  “Pepper spray.” Danny took a step when his foot hit something
slick. His butt landed on what felt like the remnants of the pizza.

  “Shit,” he muttered as he landed. Sheri should have let the damn dog eat it.

  Cary’s voice piped up. “Who sprayed you?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Sheri said.

  “Good for you,” Chloe said.

  Danny frowned and felt more drool leak out the side of his mouth. He knew she hadn’t meant to spray him, but if she’d gone and hid like he’d asked her to, none of this would be happening. “Can someone give me a hand?” He held out his arm. “I can’t see shit!” And he had mozzarella stuck to his ass.

  Sheri—at least he assumed it was her—latched on and pulled him up. He held on to her. He wished he’d have held onto her six months ago. But damn, he’d screwed up. Even though it felt like she’d set his face on fire, he wanted a second chance.

  “Watch him!” Danny said motioning toward the pizza guy still curled up in a ball.

  “What did he do?” Cary asked.

  “I didn’t order pizza,” Sheri said.

  “Someone ordered pizza!” pizza guy muttered.

  “Call the pizza place,” Danny said, now unable to open his eyes.

  “Why do you think he’s lying?” Cary asked.

  “Just do it,” Danny said. “I’ll explain after I put out the fire on my face.”

  “Don’t eat that!” Sheri ordered again and pulled free of his hold.

  “Would someone please take me to the kitchen?” Danny held out his hands again.

  “Are you still sleeping with him?” Chloe’s voice echoed in Danny’s visually impaired world.

  “I’m not sleeping with her,” said the pizza kid.

  “He’s gonna fart all night,” Sheri said.

  “Kitchen!” Danny growled, and Sheri finally started leading him away. “Please stop Taco from eating that,” she called out.

  Danny kept his eyes closed and let her lead him away. His pain level now a good ten.

  “The chair is right under you,” Sheri said. “I’ll get you a cloth.”

  “No cloth.” He reached out and felt for the chair. “Milk.” He dropped down and then spat out, “Get me milk.”

  “What?” she asked. “I thought—”

  “Milk!” Damn it hurt.

  He heard her moving around and the sound of the fridge opening.

  “I’ve got chocolate,” she said.

  “Give it to me.”

  “Oh. It expired yesterday.”

  “Just give it to me!”

  “Fine, I’ll pour you—”

  “Give. It. To. Me.”

  He heard her gasp, but then she shoved carton in his hands. He opened it and poured it on his face.

  “What are you—”

  “It helps stop the burn.” He emptied the whole thing on his face. It offered only a little relief. At this point he’d take anything.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  He heard the sincerity in her voice. The thought hit that he’d been the one saying sorry six months ago, but she hadn’t accepted his apology.

  “Do you use Dawn?” he asked, his face still on fire.

  “Do I what?”

  “Dawn dishwashing soap. Do you use it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mix some up, half water, half soap, and give it to me.” He heard her moving around and the water in the sink turn on.

  “Here.” She put another container in his hand. It was the dishwashing bottle.

  He turned it up and squirted some of it on his face. The pain lessened a bit more.

  “Do you need a towel?” she asked.

  “In a minute I will.” He tried blinking, but it hurt too damn much.

  He heard her moving around again. After a second, her hip bumped into his arm. “Here.” He felt her give him the hand towel.

  He took it, but as tempting as it was to wipe his face, he knew he needed to give the Dawn a few more minutes to wash away the pepper oil before he attempted to wipe it off.

  They sat there in silence. Voices echoed from the living room. The burn slowly started to fade.

  She finally spoke up, “Do you want me to wet the towel?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m just giving the soap time to work.”

  “I didn’t mean to spray you.” She paused. “I was afraid he was going to kill you. And it would be my fault. I already killed an opossum this week.”

  She didn’t make a lick of sense. But he recalled her comment before he went around the side of the house. “I thought you were afraid I wasn’t competent.” He forced his eyes open, stared at her for a few long seconds then brought the soap up again and gave his face another squirt.

  “I . . . I was trying to spray him. Not you. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” he said. He blinked and focused on her again. “But you wouldn’t accept my apology, would you?”

  He could barely make out her expression, but it didn’t look good.

  “That’s different,” she said in low voice.

  “I made a mistake.” He hated the pleading in his voice, but it was there.

  “There’s a difference between a mistake and a character flaw.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You know what it means,” she snapped.

  He could still hear Cary, Chloe, and the pizza guy in the living room. He knew now wasn’t the time. But he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance, and damn it, he still wanted a chance.

  “My ex did a number on me,” he said, willing to tell her things—things he hadn’t shared with anyone but his cousin. “I panicked and—”

  “That’s not my problem,” she said.

  He heard footsteps moving to the kitchen and shut up.

  “He’s legit!” Cary said. “He was supposed to deliver it to unit fifteen. Not sixteen.”

  “Damn.” Danny released a gulp of air. Then, hoping enough time had passed, he brought the towel to his face. He kept it there for several seconds before pulling it away.

  His eyes still burned, but the pain was almost tolerable. Blinking away his tears, he could almost see. He stood and moved into the doorway. Cary shifted back.

  “Why did you fight me?” he asked the kid, who now sat up on the floor.

  “I thought you were robbing me.”

  “I announced I was the police,” Danny snapped. “And I had my badge out.”

  “I didn’t see the badge. All I saw was the gun, and you weren’t in uniform! You could have been anyone.”

  And you could have been a hit man. Danny sighed.

  “We had a delivery guy robbed only a couple of weeks ago,” the kid continued. “The jerk pistol-whipped him.”

  “Do I look like a robber?”

  Sheri moved beside him, and even as messed up as his sinuses were, he could smell her perfume. Or was it her shampoo? Or was it just her?

  “Can’t we just forget it?” the kid said.

  Danny looked at Cary. “We might need to write up a —”

  “No,” the kid pleaded. “Look, I just got a scholarship for college, and if I get into any trouble, they might . . . pull it. I didn’t hit you, and I’m not the one who sprayed you. And you didn’t hurt me.” His gaze shifted to Sheri standing at the doorway beside Danny.

  Sheri spoke up. “Sorry. I didn’t do that on purpose.”

  “I know,” the kid said. Then he looked back at Danny. “So can I just go?”

  Danny met Cary’s eyes, and his friend nodded. Then Danny looked back at the kid. “Fine, but next time someone says ‘police,’ look for the badge before you start resisting.” As the kid got up, Danny pulled out his wallet. “Here’s for the pizza.” And for the getting hit in the balls. He handed the kid two twenties.

  The kid hesitated, so Danny put in his hands. “Take it.” Then with only a slight limp due to his injury, he left.

  The door hadn’t completely shut when Cary turned to him. “Now would you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  • • •


  Sheri sat on the sofa listening to Danny explain again about the hit on a Sheri Thompson. The word a being important, but he seemed to downplay that part.

  “Oh my God!” Chloe dropped down on the sofa beside Sheri and took her hand.

  “Shit,” Cary said.

  “A Sheri Thompson. It’s not me!” Sheri said for what felt like the tenth time. She looked from Chloe to her friend’s husband. “There are other Sheri Thompsons here. Chloe can even tell you about the phone calls. She was here when the woman called and accused me of having an affair with her husband.” Sheri looked at her friend. “Tell them.”

  “It’s true,” Chloe said. “But . . .” Concern pulled at her expression.

  “But we don’t know for sure,” Danny finished. “And until we do, we need to be careful.”

  Sheri shook her head and looked at him. His eyes were blood red. And the sight of him still gave her heart hiccups. “If you call what just happened here being careful, then I’d rather not.”

  Danny’s expression hardened. “When the delivery guy knocked you were afraid. So even you know there’s a chance you’re in danger.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Maybe, but now I realize I overreacted. And look what happened.”

  “If you’d done what I told you and hadn’t . . . opened the door, none of this shit . . .” He paused as if he regretted speaking out. “I’m sorry, it’s just . . .”

  Ah, but it was too late. The shock of everything had begun to wear off, and she remembered all the reasons she had to be angry with him. From six months ago, to as little as six minutes ago.

  “I tried to help,” she said, fuming. “And . . . none of this would have happened if you hadn’t broken into my apartment like some Rambo cop.”

  Danny’s posture became defensive. “I didn’t break in. You left the door open.”

  “We were bringing in dog food.”

  “That’s not what you were doing.” His condescending tone rang in her ears and had her wringing her hands . . . and wanting to wring his neck.

  “I don’t care if I was doing jumping jacks naked. It’s none of your business!”

  “Well, next time you’re moving from third to fourth base with a guy, shut your damn door!”