by R. T. Wolfe
The garage door began to rise as the SUV's starter ignited.
The single siren grew closer as the sound of more approached from farther away. Any injuries were buried in endorphins. Duncan was well prepared to jump the hood of the vehicle when he noticed black boots that stood on the other side of the rising door. Black boots, planted in the gravel, feet spread, knees locked.
Nickie.
Zheng would run her over without a second thought. As the door lifted to halfway, Zheng jerked the front end of the SUV through the opening. Then, Duncan saw it. She had her arms raised and her glock aimed at Zheng's head. Her expression was highly conflicted. The muscles in her jaw flexed as she jerked her aim up a fraction.
Pop, pop. Her arms stayed in place. Blood splattered the driver-side window and Zheng's car scraped the side of the garage door opening before coming to a stop. Even with the vehicle halted at her feet, she didn't move. Not her legs or the gun she grasped in both hands.
Duncan walked to her with his arms up. "Nickie?"
Her eyes darted to his, wide and crazed.
"It's okay. It's me. It's over. Where's Gloria?"
An unmarked Camry with lights flashing from the grill came barreling down the weeded drive. Lynx.
"She's in the Audi," Nickie said and shoved the glock in the back of her slacks before walking toward Zheng. She stood and stared at him with lifeless eyes, half-opened eyes.
Duncan staggered around to the passenger side and opened the door. "You got him in the head and the shoulder. He's breathing. You didn't kill him." That fact confused him. "You shot him, point blank range, and you didn't kill him."
Her sigh was pronounced. "No. I didn't kill him. We need him to the find the other girls."
Eddy skidded a few yards from the SUV and flew out of his unmarked. "Mother fuck, Nick. You're okay. You had us all scared shitless." His eyes grew bigger as they zoned on her battered face. "Or are you okay?"
"We've got a stiff inside and two secured. One is injured in the car, here. There may be others unaccounted for." The line of emergency vehicles grew closer. "Can you cover the perp in the car? I don't think he's going anywhere." She started to head inside the building. "I have no radio or phone. Tell the guys to call in an ambulance for the one in the car and get the ones held inside."
"Wait. Nick. Those aren't our black and whites coming." Eddy put his fingers to the bruises on the side of her face.
"What are you talking about? Who the hell is it?"
"The hospital was targeted. The captain called in everyone to take care of it. Those guys are either from Ithaca or Geneva. Who is in the car?" he asked.
"Jun Zheng. The hospital was his doing." She said it as a fact, not a hunch. "I'll fill you in later. Try not to shoot him again. I need him for information." She took off into the garage.
Lynx rotated his gaze to Duncan before approaching the vehicle. Duncan took off behind Nickie.
Chapter 27
The steam from Nickie's breath led her way as she headed down the first hallway. "You shouldn't come with me." He had family to check on. So did she.
"Like hell," she heard him say from behind her in the dark.
"I didn't kill him," she whispered in a sort of disbelief. "I wanted to. We need him, and we need to bring in the other two alive." The dust hadn't completely settled. Not in here or out there.
"Nickie, wait," Duncan said, but she'd already spun to the growling in the side room and had her glock pointed at Andy.
"Put that thing down. We're family," Andy said and smiled. "I heard the sirens. Tell them to hurry it up. I'm tired of babysitting this scumbag."
She followed the hallway all the way out the door Duncan had blown away. "Holy shit, Duncan. What did you use?" Holding up a hand, she corrected herself. "Don't tell me."
The Audi was still there. Gloria. She didn't see anyone in it. Nickie stumbled, hurrying over the crumbled stairs and around the stiff Duncan had told her about.
Gloria lay on the floor in the backseat. Slowly, Nickie opened the back driver's side door. Relief flooded Nickie as Gloria craned her head and looked over her shoulder at her with her warm and smiling dark eyes.
"It's over," Nickie whispered. "It's okay. Do you hear the sirens?"
Gloria came out, and Nickie wrapped her arms around her.
"Let me look at you, child," Gloria said as she pulled back and took Nickie's face in her hands, then looked her over from head to toe. Nickie closed her eyes and shook her head. Gloria was the one making sure she was okay?
* * *
"Are you sure this is the last time?" Posing butt naked was become increasingly embarrassing, not the other way around. "What are we doing with this anyway?"
"You said, 'we.'"
She was supposed to have a sultry look, and now she couldn't help but smile. "Last time we weren't engaged."
He stared at the canvas, then set down his brush and pulled out a band from the pocket of his slacks. He tied his hair in a quick, short tail, then changed brushes. "Just a few finishing touches. I'm nearly done."
"You said that last time." She wasn't really complaining. Posing for his paintings always made her feel special. It wasn't so much that she was posing, but the deeply intense way he studied her. The way he saw her.
"And we can do with it whatever you'd like."
"No art shows?"
The comment jarred him enough for him to turn his focus and frown at her, but only until he realized she was joking.
The silver rings from her necklace lay warm down her neck. Her hair was soft over her shoulders. But that's not what made her embarrassed. "I think you should have to be naked, too."
A single brow lifted. The comment didn't do enough to make him glare at her or even lose his stride, but at least she changed his expression.
"I think we should sell the town house." That ought to get him.
And it did. He stopped and sighed, then continued working.
But he didn't answer. It completely backfired and made her more self-conscious than ever. It was what he wanted. It had to be. He'd been picking at her about it for months, hadn't he? They were engaged. She had the ring to prove it.
"Who do you think is the mole?" he asked. The change in subject didn't make her forget his reaction.
"I don't want to think about it tonight. Jun Zheng is in custody along with two of his cronies. We are on the way to finding the other groups of girls. I have a new police-issued unmarked. No wait, that's not a good thing. A Camry? It's like abuse to a police officer."
The corner of his mouth lifted once more, making currents of warmth run through her. She was getting married. She was in love and getting married to the best thing she'd ever had.
He walked to the fridge and pulled out a Diet Coke. On his way back, he grabbed the pile of clothes she'd left on the floor.
"You're done?" she asked, sitting up.
"I am."
Yanking on her jeans, she left them undone and pulled the shirt over her head. She'd seen it before. Thought he was done three sittings ago, but she was still curious.
When she walked around to the back of the easel, she wasn't sure how she felt. It looked like a photograph. All of his paintings did. "You made me look prettier than I am. I suppose I should thank you."
He took her face in his hands and dropped their foreheads together. "I could never do justice to your beauty."
She shivered. "I guess you're forgiven, then."
"Hmm?" he questioned as he kissed the top of her head.
"You never answered me about selling my place. You know how I am about all of this stuff, and you didn't say anything."
His thumbs traced her cheeks. The stubble on his face was longer than usual, giving him a deeper, more menacing appearance. "I'm not going to live with you until we're married."
Throwing her head back, she roared. She stepped away and held her hands to her chest as she laughed some more.
He wasn't smiling.
"Come on, Duncan. I already
live here. I sleep here every night."
"Except when I'm out of town."
"Is that wrong?"
"No, no, it's not wrong."
She grabbed the side of her hair and growled. "I'll never get relationships. You want me to have a drawer. You want me to share the closet. You want to marry me. You don't want me to move in."
He nodded as he answered. "It may seem trivial to you, but I don't want us to officially live together until we are husband and wife. Laugh if you want. I'm firm on this."
Why did that flatter her?
The doorbell rang. She'd been taken in the moment and needed to check and make sure she was dressed. No bra. That was a problem. "I'd better finish getting dressed. You get it. It's your place anyway."
He grunted and headed for the stairs. So, they weren't going to live together? It did make her laugh. She had kale in the fridge and nearly her entire wardrobe in his closet and dressers. Shrugging, she finished dressing and made her way after him.
He wished he'd installed an elevator. She hated elevators. It made her think as she jogged down the stairs. He drank coffee. She drank soda. He ate donuts. She ate yogurt. Yet, she was sure this was going to work. More sure than she had ever been about anything in her life.
The door shut and there was quiet. A box sat at Duncan's feet. "Who was it?" Nickie asked.
The box made noise. Her feet froze on the stairs and her mouth gaped open. "You didn't."
"Maybe I did. You should come find out."
Her feet sped double time down to the foyer. She practically slid next to the box, ready to tear it open when she realized the size and stepped away.
"It's a small box," she said flatly and clutched both her hands close to her body.
"Yes," he said slow and condescendingly.
"We were going to get a dog."
"Yes." He did it again.
The thing scratched the box. She heard whining. Puppy whining. "That doesn't sound like a dog."
"Those are definitely dog sounds."
"I said 'dog.' There is a puppy in there." She backed up to the first stair.
One of the largest smiles Nickie had ever seen come from Duncan spread across his face. "You're scared of a puppy."
"I'm not scared. And stop smiling. This is not funny." She stepped up to the next stair. "I don't know what to do with a puppy. Take it back."
He reached down for the lid.
"No!" she yelled and heard the thing yelp and squeal like she'd stepped on its foot. "See? I scared it. I'm going to ruin it. Take it back," she repeated as he opened the box. "Take it back and get a bigger one."
A tiny, timid, black and brown Rottweiler cowered in the corner. Both Nickie's hands stuck out in front of her like stop signs.
It took a few moments for the thing to analyze the situation. Maybe it was a smart puppy. Except, then decided it was safe. Which made it a stupid puppy. It crept closer to her and sniffed before its tail went berserk and its body waved and flailed.
"What the freaking hell would I do with a puppy?"
Duncan picked it up and walked toward her.
"No, no, no. Put it down. Put it back. Take it—"
Duncan placed it against her chest and let go. "I'm going to drop it. I'm going to drop it." Its fur was silk and if smelled like... puppy. She held on tight as it licked her shirt, then bit her buttons. "What do you feed it? It's going to pee on the floor. I don't know how to train it not to pee on the floor."
It sniffed her again, then started the tail-wagging squirming again. "It's biting me. It has needles for teeth."
"Scratch its belly."
"Do what?" She looked down at its belly. It was a she. Nickie moved her fingers over its belly like she was plucking her cello. The puppy's eyes rolled to the back of her head and her four legs stilled, falling outward like she had no bones in her legs and exposing her silky underside. The little girl made purring noises like a cat and craned her head so her tongue could reach Nickie's shirt.
"It's a she," Nickie said and sat on the stairs. "She's a she." Nickie looked to Duncan.
The smile on his face was large and beautiful, and for the first time she could remember, he had to share the spotlight of prettiest thing in the room.
The End
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Want more from R.T. Wolfe?
Here's an excerpt from
SAVAGE DISCLOSURE
The Nickie Savage Series
Book Three
~
Juggling both the take-out bag from Mikey's Bar and Grill and the yogurt she snatched from home, Nickie stepped into the elevator and pushed the button to the top floor. Except, this was Northridge, New York, which meant the top floor to the tallest downtown building was a whopping four floors. And yet the man the local newspapers called The Taste of L.A. stayed for her. Here. And bought the top floor of the tallest building to serve as an office he used only part-time.
The doors opened and she stepped into the hallway, her mind still rolling through the roadblocks of her frustrating new case. She understood the reluctance rape victims had to pointing fingers at their assailants, but the college dean? As she spotted his morning receptionist's empty chair, Nickie realized how late it was for lunch. Luckily the bag from Mickey's was heavy.
It wasn't like her to walk into anyone's office unannounced, especially when the door was closed. With the absence of his receptionist, Nickie attempted to raise her full hands to knock. The door opened before she had the chance.
Duncan greeted her with a half smile. He took the Mikey's bag from her, then wrapped his free hand around hers. Twirling her wedding ring between his thumb and forefinger—the habit he'd picked up since their marriage—he leaned in and kissed her softly. The familiar scent of him dove into her lungs and settled next to her heart.
"There you are," he said just as softly. She blinked three times in order to regain her composure.
Turning, he headed back for his desk with his bag, opening it as he walked.
"Am I so late that you waited by the door for your lunch?" she asked as she sunk into the guest chair on the opposite side of his enormous desk. She lifted a boot, ready to plop it on the top before noticing the polish of the glass and letting it fall to the floor.
Pulling out the over-sized tenderloin from the bag, he gestured to the monitor at the side of his desk. "I saw you on the security cameras."
Of course.
"Sorry for leaving you hungry. And for the hectic past few days. It doesn't look like the next few will be any better."
"Hmm," he said as he swallowed bites of the French fries, never one to talk with his mouth full. "That it a shame since I haven't seen you naked in seventy-two hours."
Opening her half-empty yogurt container, she considered. "What about the other night?" On the stairs. Yum.
"You weren't naked."
She smiled. It couldn't be helped, but it was followed by the frown created from her predicament with her recent case.
"Would you like to talk about it?"
"Hmm? Oh." She shrugged and dunked some of the blueberries she'd thrown in the container on her way out of the house. "Roadblock on a case. Alleged college rape."
"You use the word 'alleged' often. I know better, but others view this as assumed innocence."
Another shrug. "Innocent until proven guilty and all that. The girl sounds legit, but no need to throw some bloke under the bus until I have proof. Which is where we come to my roadblock. Statistically, these things don't come in isolated cases
. I've got the alleged victim." Oops. There was that word again. "I've got the dude's ID." She dug in the pocket of her blouse and pulled out the photo she'd downloaded of him. Waving it around with her free hand, she took another bite before continuing. "I can't exactly stand in front of his Drama Club practice and show his picture to girls as they leave, making accusations. I'm a NPD detective."
Duncan set down the burger that so ironically mismatched everything about him and walked around to her. Would the reaction of her heart rate to this kind of simple gesture ever wane? He reached down and placed his hand beneath one of her calves, lifting her leg and setting her boot on top of his desk. Before repeating the process with the other leg, he snatched the photo from between her fingers. "I, however, am not a cop and would enjoy an afternoon on the beautiful Heritage Junior College campus."
~
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Savage Disclosure
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R.T. Wolfe enjoys creating diverse characters, twining them together in the midst of an intelligent mystery and a heart encompassing romance. It's not uncommon to find dark chocolate squares in R.T.'s candy dish, her rescued Saint Bernard at her feet and a few caterpillars spinning their cocoons in their terrariums on her counters. R.T. loves her family, gardening, eagle-watching and can occasionally be found in a third world country helping others help themselves.
R.T. enjoys hearing from readers. You can contact R.T. through her website: www.rtwolfe.com