I groaned and shifted. “What’d you hear about the shooting?”
“Suddenly interested?”
“Was there a woman involved?”
He nodded. “Yeah, actually. You know something else?”
I felt my pulse quicken. “A redhead?”
“You really think I stopped to ask what color hair the woman had? Are you okay?”
“What happened?”
“Well, this went the exact opposite way of how I thought it would.” He leaned against his truck and looked around. “The View, or as it’s known by you, That Place I Took Mercer, had a shooting after they closed last night. Something small—two people involved, in the parking lot. No witnesses.”
“Fatalities?”
“One.”
I tilted my mouth to one side and bit the inside of my cheek. Obviously, there were many women who worked at The View. It could’ve been any one of them. There was no reason for me to immediately jump to thinking about it being the redhead who was shot.
“Frank Porter? It was his son who got shot, Donnie. He took a slug to the middle of the forehead.”
I growled and glared at Tucker. “Why the fuck didn’t you just come out with that in the beginning? You knew all about it, clearly. Sometimes I want to kick your teeth out.”
He grinned. “Then who would drive you fucking crazy?”
I had an idea. She’d done a great job of it the night before. And, apparently, she wasn’t dead. “So, a woman killed Donnie Porter?”
“Don’t say it like that. You sound like a misogynist.”
I scrubbed my hands down my face and unlocked my truck. “I’m done. Have fun working tonight. I’ll be back at six in the morning.”
Tucker laughed and tipped his head at me. “You should go by the office. I’m sure Lauren would love to talk to you about you and Mercer visiting The View last night.”
I flipped him off and drove away, towards my house. I didn’t want to see Lauren’s face again and have to feel guilty for whatever stupid shit Mercer had done or said the night before.
Instead, I stopped by a coffee shop a mile up the road from my house and went inside to get the gossip. It was an ex-cop hangout and all the old guys had the current news from the station. They wouldn’t be as painful to deal with as Tucker.
Letta, the owner, smiled at me as I made my way to the bar top. “Well, look at this handsome devil. It sure is time that you graced us with your presence again.”
I settled on a vinyl-covered stool that creaked under my weight and leaned across the bar to give the older woman a kiss on the cheek. “You know how it is, Letta. I come in and see that you’re still married to that no-good husband of yours and then I have to go away for a while to comfort myself.”
She blushed, the same way she always did. “I’m going to tell your Uncle Lenny you said that.”
I laughed. “Good. He needs a reason to stay on his toes with you.”
My Uncle Lenny chose that moment to come out of the kitchen with a big spatula. He waved it at me and scowled. It was his one expression. “I should smack you with this. I talked to my sister this morning. Guess who hasn’t been by to see their momma in almost a month?”
I winced and leaned back, in case he did decide to hit me with the spatula. It wouldn’t be the first time with him. He’d been around my whole life and was never shy about doling out punishments as he saw fit, as long as his sister, my mother, didn’t mind. She didn’t.
I hadn’t realized it’d been that long since I’d been over to see her. I frowned. “I’ll have to go over and see her.”
“Make sure you do.” Lenny disappeared back into the kitchen and left Letta grinning at me from behind her notepad.
She waved her pen at me and laughed. She’d married my uncle, for some unknown reason, ten years earlier, after working for him for nearly thirty years. She was younger and way better-looking than he could ever hope to be, but she was crazy about him. “Look what you did. You woke the sleeping bear.”
“I promise you that I had no intention to. I just wanted to stop by and see if either of you had heard anything about the shooting that happened at The View last night.”
“A case of yours?”
I shook my head. “No. Just curious.”
She narrowed her eyes, like she was reading me better than I could hide, but eventually shrugged. “Frank Porter’s kid was shot dead by one of the girls who works there. There’s security footage of the whole thing. Supposedly, he attacked her and she shot him with a .38 special.”
I grunted, a silent comment on the asshole getting what was coming to him if the rumors were true and he did go around attacking women. “Did they release her name?”
“You’re awfully curious, Vince.”
I grinned. “Always have been.”
“I didn’t hear the girl’s name.” She tapped the pen against her lips and then jerked it in my direction. “I heard Davenport saying something about redheads being batshit crazy, though. Does that give you any clues as to what you’re looking for?”
Red hair falling across my arms as I wrapped them around a curvy body flashed through my head and my head gave a painful throb. “I think it does.”
“Well, I hope whatever your business is with this redhead, it’s nothing serious. The boys were already talking about how dangerous her life just got. She killed the only kid of Frank Porter. Justified or not, Porter wouldn’t care.”
Yep, there was that throbbing head pain again. “They’re thinking he’s going to take her out?”
She shrugged. “You know them. They’ve got nothing better to do than sit around and run their mouths and imagine the worst-case scenario for everything that happens. They were probably just making the story sound more dramatic.”
“But they think he’ll take her out?”
She nodded and then jerked her head around when Lenny yelled something from the kitchen. “What are you yelling about? If you want to tell me something, you can come around here and say it to my face!”
I patted the counter. “Thanks, Letta. I’ll have to come by when you have some of your pie out soon.”
“Like you eat pie. What are you—one percent body fat?”
I flexed my arms and winked at her, despite the feeling of dread in my stomach for Carolina. “See you, Letta.”
“Come back soon, Vince!” She shook her head. “And go see your momma!”
I waved as I walked away, back out to my truck, and then back towards the city. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to drive by The View and see if I could spot Carolina. I didn’t know what the plan was, or what I planned on doing after that, but the throbbing in my head and the tension in my gut said the woman needed help.
It had nothing at all to do with the fact that she’d been dancing through my mind since she’d walked away from me. She’d been fire in my arms and that burn was too good to not investigate.
Chapter 8
Cookie
I’d been sitting in an interrogation room in a police station for over twelve hours. After handcuffing me and putting me in the back of a squad car, a couple of officers let me sit in the back of the car while they watched the medical examiner and the crime-scene unit do their thing. They’d glanced back at me every so often and frowned before turning back around. It had been abundantly clear that they didn’t care what I had to say about what happened, so I’d saved my breath for a detective.
However, the detective who found his way into the interrogation room they’d locked me inside of was just as inept at listening as the officers. Detective McHale was insulting and sexist with his questions and he seemed more intent on discussing my career choice than anything else. He refused to believe that Donnie Porter had attacked me. I didn’t have any wounds or injuries. How could I have been attacked by a man and not have any wounds or injuries?
I sighed and rested my forehead on the metal table in front of me. I was exhausted. My body ached and all I wanted to do was go home. I needed peace and
quiet to figure out what had happened for myself. Yet the detective just kept shouting at me that I’d wanted Donnie dead. He yelled that I’d had something against Donnie, personally. Maybe Donnie was my secret boyfriend and I’d decided to off him. None of it made sense. I just couldn’t make this McHale see that.
It probably didn’t help that I was keeping all of my emotions on a tight lockdown. I wasn’t going to cry and fall apart in front of anyone. I was stronger than that. Yet my lack of tears over killing a man seemed to read as guilty to the idiot detective.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to sprint around the tiny, smelly room, screaming and pulling at my hair. I’d killed a man. No matter what the circumstance, I’d still killed a man. I didn’t know how to reconcile that with myself. I wasn’t a killer. I’d been in bad situations, even as young as six, but nothing had ever crossed that line. I’d never seen a dead body and I’d never thought it was a possibility.
Of course, it was always a possibility. Life is unpredictable. I just didn’t think it was a possibility. My world was small and relatively safe, all things considered. Everyone lived.
It was stupid, though. I had a gun. I knew what guns did. I should’ve been more aware of the consequences. I should’ve bought a stun gun instead.
The door behind me opened and McHale came back into the room, looking every bit the asshole that he was. He straddled the chair across from me and raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m giving you one last chance. Tell me the truth about what happened last night and we won’t throw the book at you.”
I scowled at him. “I already told you the truth about last night. Over and over again. My story hasn’t changed once. Donnie Porter attacked me. He charged at me with a knife and I reacted. I pulled the gun out of my purse and I shot him to keep him from hurting me.”
He sat there for a few more seconds and then sighed. Slapping a folder on the table, he nodded. “The security footage from the club is in. What you say holds up.”
Fury boiled in my blood. “Yet you tried to get me to confess to something anyway? You’re an asshole. More than that; you’re a bad detective. I’m going home.”
I stood up and yanked the door to the room open before stopping short. In the bullpen of the room, Frank Porter stood with a handful of men around him. He spotted me and seemed to grow in size as his face turned red and veins throbbed in his forehead and neck. I could clearly see them from across the room.
“Throw that bitch in jail! What is she doing free? She killed my son!” He lunged towards me and a few cops around grabbed his arms to hold him back. “You killed my son, you fucking bitch! You’ll pay for it! You’ll pay for what you did!”
The men who’d been placid beside Frank jumped into action and more cops appeared to hold them back. A small riot erupted in the station as the men raged to get to me. I snapped back into reality and ran towards the exit. I needed to get out of there.
At the door, McHale grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Even if it was self-defense, Frank Porter will never see it that way. You killed the only kid of a mob boss. You would’ve been safer locked away in jail.”
I jerked away from him. “You know I’m not safe and you’re not going to do anything, are you?”
He shook his head. “Not my job. I’m a detective. Not a babysitter.”
I couldn’t reply. I was so angry and scared that I knew if I opened my mouth, I’d cry. Instead, I hurried down to the street before realizing that my car was still at the club. There was a commotion behind me and I decided that walking the few miles to The View in the heat, in heels, was better than sticking around to see if the noise was Frank coming out.
I couldn’t stop hearing his words. I’d pay. How would I pay? I’d never asked too many questions about Frank’s business, but anything with the title mob boss couldn’t be too good. I’d watched old mob movies. I couldn’t help imagining my feet in a pair of concrete shoes, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Never mind that there wasn’t an ocean close by.
I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder every other second as I walked. I was terrified and angry about it.
Men whistled at me as I walked by, calling out things they’d never say in front of their mothers. I knew what I looked like. That didn’t mean I didn’t want to scream at every one of the assholes who called to me. I normally would’ve. I would’ve stood up to them. But I was facing too much shit to chance adding on to it. I didn’t even know if Steve was going to let me keep my job.
The dream was so close. I was a month or two away, tops. I couldn’t lose my job. Or my life. I realized that my life was definitely more important, but I couldn’t help but worry about what kind of life it would be if the dream fell apart after so long.
By the time I made it to The View, there were already cars filling the lot. The bloodstain from Donnie’s head had been washed away and it was like nothing had happened. Music poured into the day as the door opened and closed, men going in and out of the club before it got too busy.
I wanted to go in and talk to Steve, but I wanted to go home and crawl into my bed more. That option won. I unlocked my car and got in. Sitting there for a few minutes, I rested my head on the steering wheel and fought back tears.
There was no one I could call or talk to. My phone was dead in my purse, but I knew that even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. No one would call. No one would know anything about me or what had happened. No one but the girls at The View, but they had their own shit to worry about. I was alone.
While it’d never mattered too much before, and it’d been almost welcomed, I felt like I could’ve used someone to talk to that night. That would just mean involving someone else in the mess I’d found myself in, though. It was best that I was alone.
I straightened my back and rolled my neck from side to side, trying to release some of the tension, before starting my car and heading towards home. I parked at the back of the house, in the alley that was normally too sketchy to bother with. The necessity for a level of secrecy had settled over me and I felt the need to stay hidden. The detective’s words had whittled their way to my brain. I was scared of being too exposed.
As soon as I was inside and my door was closed, Maude started with the banging on the window. I couldn’t deal with her, though. Instead, I hurriedly hid the money that I’d clutched inside of my purse for hours in my secret air vent and jumped in the shower. I scrubbed my face and body until my skin felt raw and then I washed my hair and just stood under the water. Even after it turned cold, I stood there, shivering.
My mind kept replaying the moment the bullet had entered Donnie’s head. I kept seeing the way his eyes had slightly widened before glazing over, the way his body had slumped to the ground, the way he’d stared up at me while blood pooled under his head.
My stomach soured and I ended up heaving over the toilet with nothing in me to throw up but bile. When I’d finished, I brushed my teeth and shuffled into my bedroom. I was exhausted and barely awake, thankfully. Sleep would be a nice reprieve.
I pulled on a baggy T-shirt and sleep shorts before crawling into bed. Kicking the covers off, I curled onto my side and hugged an extra pillow to my chest. With my back to the door, I fell asleep with fading images of Donnie still playing in my head, sure to give me nightmares.
***
It was hot in my house. I tossed and turned in bed, trying to get relief. The sun had disappeared hours before, but I couldn’t cool off enough to go back to sleep. I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling. The popcorn texture hovered over me, closing in. I felt like the whole world was closing in on me.
Sitting up, I grabbed at the notebook I kept beside the bed to fan myself. The light breeze wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed air.
I couldn’t breathe. I needed air. The window in my bedroom was nailed shut, so I shuffled into the living room and opened the window that looked into Maude’s house. The balmy night air did nothing for me. My heart still raced and I couldn’t seem to catch a breath.
&nb
sp; I gasped and sank to my knees under the window, grasping the sill like it was the only thing keeping me together. Even the cotton T-shirt sitting against my chest felt like an elephant. I needed it off. I tugged at it, my nails biting into my skin as I did.
Nothing was working. I was having a panic attack. I hadn’t had one in years and all of the things I’d done in the past to alleviate them were just out of reach in my memory.
Sinking even lower, my butt hit the floor and I leaned forward, pressing my body as close to the scarred old floors as I could get it. My vision was tinged black at the edges and I knew that I was going to pass out if I didn’t get some semblance of control back.
Over the sound of my labored breathing and pounding heart, the sound of metal on metal reverberated through my house. Coming from the front door, it stopped me cold. In an instant, all of my scattered thoughts zoned in on that sound and I was as calm as I’d ever been. Fight or flight took over and some self-preservation part of my brain kicked in.
The low jerk of crowbar to my doorframe sent me scrambling across the floor. The ever-present squeal of the top hinge on my door going off had me yanking open the back door. Heavy footfalls across the uneven linoleum floor were matched by my bare feet racing away from the back of my house and into the night.
My arms pumped as I ran, moving faster than I knew I could. Pain was just a tease at the edge of my subconscious as I flew over gravel and rocks. I didn’t know if anyone was chasing me. I couldn’t stop to see. I couldn’t stop, at all. My body was on autopilot, getting away from the threat that had come into its home.
It was Frank Porter. Or his men. I knew it like I knew my own name. He was coming to make me pay.
Without the presence of mind to know where I was running to, I couldn’t even clear my raging brain enough to pray that I actually had gotten away.
Chapter 9
Vince
“Is everything okay?” I’d stopped in to talk to Jade before taking over my shift. I hadn’t expected to find her crying in the corner of her couch, looking like the world was ending.
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