by Lee Taylor
She rounded the house, her gun in ready position. Suddenly, she heard sirens. Oh fuck. She’d forgotten she’d called 911. Making a quick decision not to mention the gunshots, she met the first responders at the door. She reproached herself for her kneejerk wussy response. She never should have called them. She wasn’t willing to admit that what she’d really wanted was for Dameon to come. As a troop of officers and EMT’s flooded her downstairs, she got her subconscious wish anyway.
Dameon was out the door before Rocky had finished his description of the scene.
“There’s a rapid response team on their way, Wolf. I didn’t want to take any chances given that it was the Major.”
Dameon shoved at the fear roiling in his gut, glad that his voice was calm.
“You made the right call, Rocky. You have a sit-rep?”
“Looks like someone was trying to scare her, Wolf. Rocks through the windows. A lot of broken glass. Oh and the rocks have words on them. Painted in red.”
By the time Dameon took Jesse’s front steps two at a time, his fear had turned to anger. Seeing her standing in the kitchen in those damnable shorty pajamas, his anger catapulted. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t try. The sight of her surrounded by broken glass and rocks with whore, slut and cunt sprayed on them infuriated him. He took his anger out on the nearest person: her.
Jesse’s face lit when she saw him but the flames quickly died at his caustic greeting.
He kicked at a chunk of broken glass and threw her a disparaging glance.
“I’m surprised, Major. Why did you call 911? What did you expect us to do that you couldn’t do for yourself?”
Jesse flinched and stepped back, shocked at his harsh words. She stammered, “I… I wasn’t sure what it was—”
Dameon ignored her and turned to his team.
“False alarm, men. You don’t understand. Jesse can handle anything. She doesn’t need help. Whatever the problem is, it’s Major O’Donnell to the rescue.” Dameon rattled off his withering remarks as he walked through the kitchen kicking at glass, picking up one rock then another, the crease on his cheek getting deeper with every stone he examined. Not looking at her or his team who were eyeing him uneasily, he continued his caustic overview as he read the crime scene. “Nope, men, doesn’t matter how dire the circumstance. One thing you should know. Jesse doesn’t need help. Four men in the house? She’ll take ’em out. Twenty men? Hell, for Jesse? A piece of cake.” His team stepped back, sharing tense frowns and questioning glances.
Rocky walked in at that moment and picked up on his superior’s anger. He gave Dameon a warning nod. His voice was gruff.
“Hang in there, Wolf. You too, Jesse. I’m going outside to check the perimeter.”
Jesse tried to conceal her nervousness. She could only hope Rocky didn’t do a thorough search. In a vain attempt to stop him, she said, “I already checked it, Lt. Rockford. There was nothing—”
Dameon fierce glare froze the words in her throat.
“It may surprise you, Major. But when people call 911, it is because they need help. Now, in your case, perhaps you just wanted company.”
Jesse gasped feeling a surge of heat flood her cheeks.
At Rocky’s warning grunt, Dameon nevertheless added, “The police are funny that way, Jesse. They like to help people who they think need them.”
Jesse didn’t understand Dameon’s hurtful taunts but seeing that his team was as surprised as she was, her own anger flared.
She glared at Dameon and then turned to the head of the response team.
“Chief Macarios is correct. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have called you.” She glanced at the team captain’s name badge. “I apologize, Sgt. Reimer. I’m taking advantage of resources I don’t need. Please take you team and go. Now.”
Officer Reimer stepped back surprised. He looked to Dameon for guidance but Dameon was pacing across the room as though counting the distance from the windows to where the rocks landed.
Not getting any help from his Chief, Officer Reimer tried to reason with her. “Well, ma’am, we’re here now. Someone is obviously trying to scare you. I’d like to take a look around, if you don’t mind. These rocks all have messages on them.”
Jesse sniffed and glanced at one rock emblazoned by the bright red inscription: whore. “Yes they do, don’t they.”
Emboldened by her response and likely thinking that she had changed her mind about throwing them out, the young sergeant asked, “Ma’am, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?”
Jesse tossed her head. “I’m sure it was just pranksters. Kids.”
Knowing that she had to get rid of them before anyone discovered the bullet holes, she whirled on Reimer.
“Look Officer, I told you, the Chief was right. I should never have called you. Please, take your men and go. Now.”
Reimer frowned. “You will need to sign a release indicating that you refused our help. It’s… department policy.”
Jesse snapped. “Good. Give me the paper. I’ll sign it and then you can leave.”
Ignoring her conversation with the young Sergeant, and without stopping his pacing, Dameon asked over his shoulder, “Have you noticed anything else unusual, Jesse?”
Jesse pressed her lips together and folded her arms across her chest. Ignoring him, she backed against the counter and didn’t answer.
Dameon was jiggling the lock on the back door. When she didn’t answer his question, he was at her side in three large steps, looming over her.
“I asked you a question, Jesse. Have you seen anything else unusual? Maybe someone following you?”
When she shut her eyes and didn’t answer, he closed in on her. His pent up anger radiated off of him.
“Where were you tonight?”
She pressed back but the counter didn’t give. She glared up at him.
“Why?”
He moved imperceptibly closer. Her pounding heart told her that she couldn’t ignore his commanding presence.
“I was running.”
“What time did you get home?”
His unyielding glare shut down her angry retort. Taking a deep breath, she shrugged. “Not that it is any of your business, but I got home a little after ten o’clock.”
His eyes blazed.
“You were running at ten o’clock at night? Alone? In the park?”
Refusing to be cowed, she merely nodded.
His vibrating anger signaled the fury behind his casual rejoinder.
“Hmm, maybe just as a precaution for this next week or so you might want to run in the day time. But then again, as you said, it’s none of my business.”
Jesse was surprised that as angry as she was, his caustic words cut as sharply as the glass at her feet. Seeing Rocky coming in the back door, she didn’t have time to analyze the pain that was threatening to swamp her. Rocky glanced at her and his troubled frown gave him away.
“Wolf, have you been out back?”
“No, why?”
Rocky shook his head. “You better come out, boss.”
~~~
Dameon stared at the back wall in disbelief. The word WHORE in four-foot letters was spray painted on the back of the house. Five bullet holes were visible in the kitchen window. Surprisingly, the window hadn’t shattered.
“Wasn’t only rocks, Wolf.”
Stating the obvious, Rocky frowned at Dameon. “From what I can tell, looks like a .44 caliber Glock—maybe.” He mused. “There ain’t nothing funny about five professionally placed shots. Any one of them could have taken out the person inside. This wasn’t a prank, Wolf.”
Dameon heard his lieutenant through the red haze blinding his eyes and coating his ears.
“No, it wasn’t. But they were warning her. They could have killed her easily enough if they’d wanted to.”
He took several deep breaths before he trusted himself to go back inside.
Jesse was standing beside an uncomfortable Sgt. Reimer signing the document order
ing them to leave.
Dameon strode across the room and snatched it out of her hands. He ripped up the paper and tossed the shreds on the floor.
Jesse jerked back, her eyes dark with anger.
“What the hell are you doing? I’ve told your Sergeant I want you to leave.”
Dameon’s voice was low, ominous.
“Memory problems? You didn’t mention that several shots were fired, Major.”
Jesse raised her chin then looked away, eliminating the possibility that she didn’t know about the gunshots.
“I didn’t think it was important,” she said mildly.
Dameon’s angry glare pulled her back. “We’ll let that slide, Jesse, for now.”
Not taking his gaze off of her, his question was deceptively calm. “How many.”
She responded in kind. “I counted five.”
“Did you return fire?”
“No.”
His gaze darkened.
“Where’s your gun?”
Jesse yanked her Sig from the back of her waist and slapped it into his outstretched hand with a loud smack.
The corner of his mouth tipped up for a split second before his fearsome frown returned.
He checked the slide and removed the magazine.
Jesse lifted her chin and glared at him. She knew he didn’t believe her and she was furious. The whole episode was beginning to crash in on her. As her adrenaline rush crested, she felt shaky, vulnerable. It didn’t help that Dameon was standing two feet away, his eyes shooting angry daggers. Cloaking her stress in anger she spat out her words.
“I told you. I didn’t fire it.”
“And I should believe you? Why would I do that, Major?”
Jesse was thoroughly incensed now.
“Look, Chief Macarios, if I’d needed to, I would have fired. I went out in the backyard and didn’t see anyone. I walked the perimeter. No one was there. Unfortunately I’d already called 911. I know now that I shouldn’t have.”
He stared at her through narrowed eyes.
“You should have.”
Jesse looked down refusing to let him intimidate her any longer.
“Where did they land?”
She pointed to the splatters on the far wall. None of the team had spotted them yet, too absorbed by the broken windows and warning rocks.
Dameon turned to the team who were standing back viewing the exchange between Dameon and Jesse with obvious interest. He began issuing staccato orders, every word cloaked in suppressed anger.
“Now that we’ve discovered that shots were fired, a fact that our supposed victim neglected to mention, we now have a crime scene, men. Take the bullets out of the wall carefully. Get them to ballistics tonight. Have the report on my desk by 8 a.m. tomorrow.
“Officer Reimer, put two men on the perimeter. Sgt. Louis, you and Schaffer get plywood and board up those broken windows. Clean up this mess in here. We’ve got all the evidence we need. And Sergeant, call Menéndez. Have him get a crew out here by 6 a.m. Tell him it’s a personal request from the Chief. Have them replace the windows and repaint the back of the house.”
As if seeing Jesse for the first time, he said, “Menéndez is the best and most reasonable repair shop you’ll find. They’ll be here tomorrow morning because I asked them.”
His cocky take-charge attitude reminded her of how overbearing and obnoxious he could be. Not only that but he had made her look like a fool in front of his men with his caustic taunting attacks on her. If she could have scratched his eyes out, she would have. Instead she turned her angriest glare on him.
“Look, Chief Macarios, I appreciate your concern. But this is my house. I already told Officer Reimer I wanted you to leave. I signed a document taking full responsibility. I prefer to handle this myself. Now please, collect up all your toys, and you and your men get the hell out of my house.”
In two huge steps he had her pinned against the counter. She’d forgotten how big he was, how overpowering. As he backed her into the counter, she remembered when he’d lifted up on top of that very surface and bandaged up her wounds. She’d been the furious one then. He’d been comforting, funny—and sexy. The sudden ache in her throat caused a lump so big she knew swallowing was futile.
His voice was low, dangerous. It shot sparks along her spine.
“Okay, Major O’Donnell, let’s you and I get a few things straight. Shots were fired here tonight, which is NOT a customary happening in this neighborhood. This is a family neighborhood. You have neighbors on either side, both of whom have children. Are you willing to take on their safety as well as your own?”
Seeing her chin lift, his temper that had been simmering flared. Clamping a big hand around her arm, he pulled her closer.
“Well, guess what, Major? That ain’t going to happen. That isn’t an option.” His voice dropped to an even more dangerous level. “Listen up. I don’t give a good goddamn if you want to barricade yourself in your furnitureless house with your personal armory and take out the whole goddamn Mexican mafia. But you will not be responsible for the entire neighborhood. That is the job of the police.”
Making a visible effort to control himself he let go of her arm and stepped back. He added in a relatively normal tone before he walked away, “Be at the precinct at 9 a.m. Lt. Rockford will take your statement.”
Jesse pressed her lips together and said to his retreating back, “I can’t. I have a client.”
Dameon turned slowly then walked toward her, stopping inches away from her.
“Be. There. At 9 a.m.”
Unwilling to confront him further, Jesse ducked under his arm and stalked into the living room. She was shaking and fighting to control her tears.
Behind her she heard Dameon continue to bark out orders, confirming that her demand to let her handle it was meaningless. Jesse was too upset to care.
“Tell Menéndez to have his men replace the locks. I want double bolt safety locks on all the doors.”
Dameon followed her into the living room. She knew he saw her tears when his frown deepened.
“Look, Jesse, I apologize for being abrupt. I—”
Jesse held up her hand to stop him and walked toward the stairs. She whispered as she passed him, “I shouldn’t have called 911.”
He snorted. “Yes, you should have. It’s the one thing you did right tonight.”
~~~
“Goddammit, Raoul. This has professional cartel written all over it. We’re tracing the bullets now. So help me God, if I find out that one of your men is involved, your fucking ass is grass—”
Raoul cut him off. “Listen Dameon, you know my culture as well as anyone does. You came from the barrios. That curvy-assed little Major saved my life. I owe her my life, man. I’d never do anything to hurt her and I’ll make dammed sure no one around me does. We go way back, right? So hear my voice now. We’re clean here, bro. I keep trying to tell you but you won’t listen.”
“Right, Raoul. All your various enterprises are cartel-free, right, buddy?”
“It’s not that easy, Dameon. You know that.”
“But 50% success is success in your mind, Raoul?”
Raoul’s chuckle echoed over the line. “Hell, man, admit it. It could be worse.”
Dameon’s voice was iron hard.
“Yeah, Raoul, it could be a hell of a lot worse if I find out that any of the cretins around you are responsible for what happened to Jesse.”
Raoul’s voice was smooth, insinuating.
“Thought you two were on the outs?”
“That’s none of your goddamned business, asshole.”
Raoul was quiet for a moment. When he spoke his voice was free of its customary swagger.
“You know Dameon, regarding your concern about Jesse getting hurt? I feel the same way. I don’t want her hurt—by you.”
The buzz of the dial tone ended their conversation. Dameon wasn’t sure who’d hung up first, him or Raoul.
~~~
Dameon po
unded on the steering wheel. He was furious with himself. He’d acted like an overbearing jerk tonight. But seeing Jesse shivering in her pajamas looking small and frightened tore at him. And the idea that some assholes were threatening her, shooting bullets into her house infuriated him. His protective instincts had exploded like a goddamned forest fire. Even now, it was an effort to keep from turning the truck around and heading back to her house. He knew that was why he’d treated her the way he did. She wanted to take care of herself? Fine, let her try.
But her go-it-alone attitude, as angry as it made him, didn’t stop his shame at the way he’d taunted her. Fuck. He hadn’t seen her since the court hearing. If the way he acted tonight was any example of what he did when he did see her, he needed to stay as far away from this case as possible. He snorted in disgust. As if that were likely to happen.
Chapter 33
Three nights later Jesse returned from the park and a grueling eighteen mile run. She’d waved at the young black man who’d become a frequent park runner at precisely the times that Jesse ran. He seemed to be alternating with a young Latino guy. It didn’t take much imagination to know that Dameon had put them on her trail. At first she’d been annoyed but by the third day, she admitted that it was comforting to know that someone was watching out for her—so long as they kept a respectful distance.
The attack had thrown her more than she’d expected. It hit her when she was most vulnerable. The last several months had put her to the test and her spirit was running on empty. The debilitating experience with Elliott, Trey’s arrest, the custody hearing, Eric’s anger and most of all, Dameon’s departure, had leveled her. Jesse took her father’s advice to heart and her runs become personal therapy sessions. Pounding the pavement for miles on end, she vacillated between guilt, anger and mostly grief. But also gratitude. She truly had done what she’d promised herself she would do when she resigned from the Army. She’d moved to a new city, fought for Trey and won.