Armed and Famous

by Jennifer Morey

  “Get in!” he yelled to Remy.

  She did, while he aimed both pistols at the fallen man and ran around him to the driver’s side, getting in and then reversed the vehicle enough so he could spin it around. The back passenger door flapped wildly before slamming shut. Bullets hit the side and back of the car as they raced away.

  Remy’s breathing eased from frantic to just trying to keep up with her heart. She was scared.

  “First time they’ve ever come after you?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Who are they?”

  Swallowing, she glanced over fretfully and didn’t answer.

  A man who wasn’t her boyfriend was threatening her, and now a group of strange men dressed in suits had just tried to kill her. Why?

  “What was in the envelope?” he asked.

  She kept her face forward. She still didn’t reply.

  Sighing, Lincoln drove back to town. “I’m taking us to the police, then.”

  “No!” She sat ramrod straight in her seat, eyes bright with renewed adrenaline, her hand tight on the door handle and the other clenched in a fist.

  “No?” he replied mockingly.

  “No. I can’t go to the police.”

  Can’t go to the police? “Whenever I hear people say that, it usually means they’re in trouble with the law.”

  A few strained breaths passed before she said, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Good. Then let’s go tell the police about all of this. And while we’re there, you’ll tell them what was in the envelope.”

  She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m dead. They won’t stop until they find me.” She lifted her head. “And you now.”

  “Why me?” Would they assume he knew what she’d done? Or had his mere presence at Remy’s house been enough? He’d seen them take the envelope.

  Her head fell back against the seat again.

  “If I’m in danger, then you should tell me everything you know,” he said. “I’m better equipped to deal with matters that way. You’re an HR assistant...or so you say.”

  Her head came up once more. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He didn’t answer. But his silence was enough for her. He glanced over and saw her shrewdly assessing him, picking up on the accuracy of his suspicion. She may even be a little awed. He didn’t let her in on the fact that his investigative ability was part of his job.

  “What makes you better equipped than me? You’re a martial arts instructor, not a cop.”

  Again, he didn’t respond, just kept driving.

  After a while, she asked, “Where is my dog?”

  “She’s safe. At my house.”

  “Take me home first. Then we can call the police.”

  Was she only trying to buy time? Would going home be a diversion? He wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he knew why a bunch of criminals were about to come after him.

  * * *

  Remy gripped the door handle of the SUV as Lincoln drove down the street toward their homes. There was a marked police car in the street and another that was unmarked parked in her driveway.

  “What are they doing here?” She’d planned to escape Lincoln, take Maddie and make a run for it, but now she was trapped.

  Lincoln didn’t respond. He was probably as stumped as her. How could they have found out about their abduction so fast?

  “Keep driving,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

  “What?”

  “Please. I can’t talk to them.” Oh, God, what would she do? She couldn’t be arrested.

  “Why not?”

  His sharp tone said enough. She must sound like a real fugitive.

  He drove to a stop in front of the house.

  Remy saw two detectives at the door. One was in tan slacks with a purple dress shirt and tie, and the other wore dark blue slacks with a white dress shirt and tie. The officers were still in the police car, but as soon as they spotted her, they began to get out.

  “No.” The whisper emerged before she caught it.

  “Why are you afraid of the police?” Lincoln asked.

  She couldn’t answer. Her life could be over in a matter of minutes. All that would be left was rotting in prison.

  “You don’t understand.” Shaking, fumbling with the door handle, she opened the SUV door and got out.

  Lincoln came around the SUV, studying her intently. “Make me understand.”

  She stared at him, numb with all-consuming fear. Stark. Terrifying.

  “Ms. Lang?” the detective in the purple shirt called, leaving the front porch to approach. He was in his thirties, younger than his partner, taller and thinner, too.

  Remy heard her own breathing, hating her weakness, helpless to be strong when the consequences were so great. She was innocent, but no one would believe her.

  “Remy?” Lincoln took her hand.

  She focused on his blue eyes.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  Her heart did a flip from the unexpected kindness, kindness she hadn’t had in more than two months. But he couldn’t possibly know it would be okay.

  “We’ll put them off for now.”

  Because he wanted to know what she was hiding, why men would not only try to kill her, they’d now want him dead right along with her. She owed him the truth. There was no refuting that. But the consequences were unforgiving if he didn’t believe her.

  “Come on.”

  Keeping her hand, he led her away from the SUV to the waiting detectives and officers. Did they know? Had Wade told them?

  She tightened her grip on Lincoln’s powerful and steady hand. Walking toward the detectives made her knees weak. Lincoln hooked her arm with his and supported her on her death walk. She was seldom like this. There was very little she allowed to rock her. She was a strong woman, but going to jail for crimes she hadn’t committed threatened to break her.

  “Ms. Lang?” the purple-shirted detective repeated.

  “Yes,” Lincoln said. “This is Remy Lang.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Why don’t we go in and talk?” he suggested.

  The detective passed a studied gaze over Remy and then nodded. They went inside; the officers waited outside. In case she ran?

  Lincoln guided Remy to the sofa and sat beside her, a stranger and yet someone she could rely on.

  The older detective sat in the chair adjacent to the sofa, and the taller one took out a pen and notebook and remained standing.

  After the tall detective introduced himself as Baker and his partner Henderson, he asked, “How well do you know a Mr. Wade Nelson?”

  She squeezed Lincoln’s hand, only then realizing she held it again.

  “Not well. I met him two months ago.”

  “How did you meet?” Baker asked.

  Her heart was beating so hard, and her mouth went dry. “I...” This was rapidly going downhill. “Why are you asking me about Wade?”

  The detective paused, scrutinizing her. “He was murdered last night.”

  Remy covered her mouth with her free hand. Shock ripped away anything else she’d suspected. Murdered...

  “How? Who?” They were here questioning her. Did they think...

  “How did you meet Mr. Nelson?” Henderson asked from the chair.

  She had to lie about that. She was a terrible liar, but she had to now. “I ran into him...at a coffee shop.”

  “Which one?”

  She gave them the name of one near Wade’s gun store. He went there almost every morning.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Baker asked.

  Remy hesitated.

  “He came to her house around six o’cl
ock last night,” Lincoln said. “He was threatening her.”

  “Was that the last time you saw him?” the detective asked her.

  “Yes.” The lie left her numb with dread.

  He studied her a moment longer. “Why was he threatening you?”

  Remy tried to subdue her shaking but sensed Lincoln picking up on it. “He...h-he must be angry that I broke up with him.”

  “You were seeing each other?”

  Lincoln was watching her as closely as the detectives.

  The lies were terrible and getting worse. “Yes. Not seriously, though. Just...seeing each other once in a while.”

  The detectives shared a look, and then Henderson said, “We have a witness who says they saw you meet him last night.”

  Remy’s heart flew. Panic engulfed her. She was afraid her breathing gave her away.

  “One of Mr. Nelson’s managers said he’d been coming to see you a lot lately, and he was on the phone with him when you arrived at his home at 8:30 p.m. He said Mr. Nelson told him he had to go because you’d shown up.”

  “I did go and see him. I tried to convince him to stop threatening me.”

  “For not seeing him anymore.” Baker spoke with a hint of cynicism. He didn’t believe her.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Why did you lie about the last time you saw him?” Henderson asked.

  “I...forgot I went to see him last night.”

  “You forgot?”

  Remy swallowed the constricting fear tightening her throat. “Yes.”

  “What time did you leave?” Baker asked.

  “I wasn’t there long.” Thank God that was the truth. “Thirty minutes, maybe.”

  “And where did you go after that?” Henderson asked.

  “Home.”

  “Can anyone confirm that for you?” Baker asked.

  She glanced over at Lincoln, who met her look and said nothing. He hadn’t seen her come home. No one had. Looking back at Henderson, she reluctantly said, “Probably not.” She hadn’t stopped anywhere on the way home. The only person who could confirm the time she left was dead.

  Baker closed his notebook.

  Henderson stood. “We’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  After the detectives left, Remy changed into jeans and an azure-blue boat-necked T-shirt and rejoined him in her living room. It was after seven o’clock. Late but not that late. Lincoln had felt and seen her trembling when the detectives had questioned her. If she preferred to be alone, he wasn’t picking up on that. But he wasn’t picking up on a willingness not to, either.

  “I need to get my dog,” she said, folding her arms in front of her, uncomfortable.

  He wondered what had her uncomfortable, the detectives or being alone with him. Maybe that was it. She didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t want to be alone with him.

  “Right.” He led her out of her house, making sure she locked her door, and then ushered her over to his.

  Something dug deep into him to ensure no one who dared to come after them again would harm her. It was a strong instinct, one he could not ignore despite her fear of the law. Those detectives had to have known she wasn’t telling the complete truth. So why was he so intent on protecting her? He needed answers. His life was in danger right along with hers now. Wasn’t that enough of a reason? He couldn’t leave her to her own defenses. If those men were going to go after both of them, it made more sense to stick together.

  He shut the door as Maddie bounded to Remy for her trademark exuberant greeting, stuffed burger gently clamped between her jaws, pushing up her furry, whiskery, white cheeks.

  “Come on, girl,” Remy said.

  She was going to leave. Sleep next door. Alone.

  “Wait.” Lincoln stepped in her way. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  “What?” One of her hands went to her stomach, not out of dread; Lincoln was beginning to suspect she couldn’t keep her hands still.

  “If those men come back, it’s best if you’re with me. I have a guest room.”

  Gaze unwavering, she lowered her hand and hooked her thumbs on the belt loops of her jeans. She didn’t argue. How could she? If she slept alone tonight, she might end up dead.

  But the nervous fidgeting, the inability to stay still, revealed her discomfort. Was she wondering if he’d press her for information? He would. But not just yet. He wanted her relaxed when he asked her the questions he had.

  “I’ll start dinner. We can go back to your place later so you can pack a bag.” Locking the door, he walked into the kitchen, Maddie on his heels after her ears perked with the sound of the word dinner.

  Taking his gun out of the front of his jeans, he set it on the counter. Remy was slower to follow. She eyed the gun and then watched him get some things out of the refrigerator.

  “Why do you own a gun?” she asked.

  “It’s legal.” He wasn’t ready to tell her more about himself. Keep her guessing for now. He needed her to do the talking first.

  He started a skillet of hamburger going and began cutting up peppers and onions.

  “What are you making?”

  “‘Even the Kids Love It’ casserole.”

  “A kid recipe?” She grinned wide, his relaxation strategy already going to work. “Are you a good cook?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” He chuckled at the idea. Him, a good cook. Ha! “Casseroles are easy, and they taste good. My sister is a real pro at making them for me. She doesn’t know it, though.”

  “Which of the eight is she?”

  “Arizona. The youngest.” He smiled his fondness. It had been a while since she’d come over to play a board game with him.

  “I can see you’re close. Are you that way with all your brothers and sisters?”

  “No. Arizona and I are the closest, even though we’re the farthest apart in age. When she was a kid, I was the one she always came to when she was being bullied and, later, when she was older, when the press crawled a little too close.”

  “Tough big brother, huh?”

  “She’s always needed watching over.”

  “Protective.” She mulled that over awhile, making him wonder what she was thinking. Was being protective a good thing or a bad thing to her? She struck him as very independent. Women like that didn’t appreciate being treated like a helpless damsel in distress.

  Lincoln didn’t see it that way. Men were typically physically stronger than women. They could protect them.

  “Arizona thinks she can do more than she actually can, or maybe it’s more than she has to do.”

  “She goes above and beyond?”

  “She lost a fiancé several years ago. He was kidnapped and killed, and she had a hard time getting over it.” He went to the sink to wash his hands. “Now she wants to start up an adventure organization for victimized people. Sort of like fear therapy.”

  Remy moved farther into the kitchen toward the refrigerator. “That’s commendable. She sounds like a very brave woman.”

  “Brave is a good word for her. And she’s got a good man in her life to keep her out of trouble. I don’t have to watch her so closely.” He grinned as he dried his hands with a paper towel.

  “Good man? What is that?” Beginning to feel at home, she opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. “Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  Dodging Maddie, whose nose was to the floor looking for fallen scraps, she opened the cap for him and set it by the cutting board he’d just taken out of the cabinet.

  Leaning against the counter beside him, she asked, “What’s in a kid’s casserole?”

  He moved to a lower cabinet and took out a kettle, greeted by Maddie’s cold, wet nose. “Noodles, peppers and onions, c
orn, burger, lots of cheese and some special ingredients.” Straightening, he filled the kettle with water.

  “Secret ingredients?”

  Putting the kettle on the stove and turning the burner to high, he went to the pantry and took out a can of cream-of-chicken soup and one of nacho sauce, holding them up for her inspection.

  She laughed. “Okay, so you can’t cook.”

  “Can you?”

  “When I’m forced.”

  Chuckling at their similarity, he dumped the onions and peppers into the burger and, after a few minutes, the noodles into the now-boiling water. When the onions and peppers were tender, he mixed everything together and put it into a casserole dish. A little cheese on top and into the oven.

  Next, he went to the garage to get food for Maddie.

  “You have dog food, too?” Remy watched him pour food into one of two bowls beside the refrigerator. There was already water there.

  “I bought it just in case.” In case she needed someone to watch her dog. In case Wade proved to be too much brawn for her to handle. In case Maddie became a permanent resident in his house....

  Maddie inspected the bowl of food. Unlike with her treats, she ate slowly. Munching away, looking around and up at them with the wag of her tail then going down for another dainty bite.

  Remy smiled at Lincoln and then drank some water. She was relaxed, the way he wanted her to be. Now they could talk.

  “Who’s Wade Nelson?” he asked.

  Lowering the bottle of water, her smile faded, soft eyes guarded now. But she didn’t appear surprised by his question. She must have expected him to bring it up eventually.

  When she didn’t say anything, he said, “I’ll find out whether you tell me or not.” He’d seen the man’s driver’s license, and he had a really good memory.

  After a yielding sigh, she put the bottle of water on the kitchen counter. “He runs a OneDefense store here in Denver.”

  “He sells guns?”

  She folded her arms as though chilled. “Retail. Yes. OneDefense Corporation has lots of stores around the country.”

  “I’ve heard of them. Why was he threatening you?”

  She’d already said she couldn’t tell him. But he wasn’t going to let up until she did. As she met his eyes, she must have realized that.