by Nancy Martin
Together, the three of them tottered out from behind the cab in time to see the gunman underneath the cab. He was alive—writhing in agony, his legs pinned beneath the front tire.
“We gotta lift the car,” Darrell said.
Together, the men grabbed the cab and—impossibly--lifted it off the gunman.
He fainted. At least, Grace hoped he fainted. With Jaydonna, she stumbled back behind the first cab and hid her face in her hands. The street spun in a kaleidoscope of color and noise. Jaydonna began to pray.
After that, things happened in a whirl of confusion. Hotel employees rushed past them, and the police arrived with flashing lights. A fire truck appeared, too, with an ambulance in its wake. Hotel guests spilled outside, adding to the chaos.
Luke and Darrell came back. Luke cradled Grace in his arms, touched her face. “Are you okay? Not hurt?”
She managed a nod. “I’m all right. But you--?”
“I’m fine,” he said, brusque.
For once, Darrell didn’t look calm and collected. “Close call, dude. I thought the guy shot you.”
“Shut up,” Jaydonna said fiercely. “I don’t want you getting questioned by the police, Darrell. Just keep quiet, you hear me?”
“Go home,” Luke said to them. “You have nothing to do with this. Get out of here before the news trucks show up.”
Darrell nodded shortly. “Thanks, man. We’ll talk later.”
He curled his arm around Jaydonna, and they left in a hurry.
Leon and Blood came over to Luke and shook his hand. As witnesses, they agreed to stick around to talk to the police. An officer strode up to the group, looking stern, then immediately recognized Blood as a local Eagles player.
In an explanation laced with obscenities, Blood told the officer they had been coming out of the hotel when a gun went off. They chased the gunman, he said, and he ran into the street, into the path of an oncoming car.
“Is the guy alive?” Blood asked, holding his wife.
The cop nodded. “Yeah, he’s alive. He’s a local punk—I recognize him. A gun for hire, stupid on drugs. They’re putting him into the ambulance now.”
“Do you need us?” Leon asked. “As soon as somebody figures out who we are, we’re screwed.”
“Yeah,” the cop said. “You guys better clear out before reporters show up. The hotel cameras probably caught everything.” He gestured up at the canopy where two small cameras kept watch on the entrance. “Let me get your names and phone numbers, though. Maybe we’ll want to talk to you later.”
“You really know the guy?” Luke asked.
“Oh, sure. This kid thinks he’s a wise guy, got himself mixed up with a bunch of mutts. He’s been flirting with serious jail time for a couple of years.”
Luke pulled out his wallet and handed over a business card. Leon and Blood did the same. Grace fumbled in her handbag and found one of her own cards.
The officer collected the information, glancing only briefly at each card. “Any idea who he was shooting at?”
“No clue,” Blood replied.
“Me neither,” Leon said.
Grace slipped her hand under Luke’s arm and squeezed. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him that Emma Blackbird wanted their silence.
Luke said, “Good thing he didn’t hit anybody.”
“Yeah,” said the cop. “Lucky. Of course, he’s not much of a criminal yet. Given a few more years on the street, maybe he’d be a better shot. Let’s hope some broken bones and jail time slow him down. You folks should head home. We have to lock down the area now and start piecing things together.”
Handshakes all around and only one request for an autograph—the cop wanted a signature from Blood.
Luke and Grace located her suitcase and got into another cab. They exchanged solemn glances, but said nothing during the ride across town. Grace found Luke’s hand and held it. Hers was trembling. As the realization set in of how close they’d come to something terrible, she had a hard time hanging on to her composure. Luke must have recognized that. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
In the elevator, Luke said, “I changed rooms this week. The other suite was booked.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Grace said quietly.
The room was smaller—one bedroom—and looked out over the Delaware River, not the city view.
When they were alone at last, Grace felt her knees give out, and she sat on the edge of the bed while Luke put her suitcase on a luggage rack. He took off his tuxedo jacket and slung it over a chair, then went into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water.
“Here,” he said. “We can order something stronger if you need it.”
Grace shook her head and sipped gratefully from the glass. The cold water seemed to loosen the tight lump in her throat. She said, “I was afraid you were—that you--”
“I’m fine.” He touched her hair lightly. “I’m angry. We both know that guy with the gun came from the Abruzzo family. But you didn’t want me to say so in front of the cop.” He tilted her face up so he could meet her gaze. His own was harder than before. “What’s going on, Grace?”
Grace took another sip of water. “I talked to Emma Blackbird. She asked that we—that I not say anything to the police about Jake’s death. She’s afraid for her sisters and their safety. She’s afraid the Abruzzo family will go after them.”
Luke walked to the window and looked down at the river for a while. The moonlight shone starkly on his white shirt. “I don’t feel right about that.”
“You think I do?”
“It’s wrong.” Luke kept his back to her. “We should go to the police. Tell them everything.”
“And risk Nora’s safety?” Grace set the water glass on the bedside table. She was trembling so hard she feared she might drop it. “Their other sister has children. You saw how close we came to something terrible tonight. What if it had happened to children who couldn’t get away?”
Luke turned around, but stayed where he was. “This isn’t the way things are supposed to work.”
“I know that. I’m not asking you to lie.”
“Good. Because I can’t.”
Grace waited, feeling suddenly afraid that he was making a choice—a choice about her, not only about the shooting.
She said, “I’m not going to lie to the police either. If they ask, I will speak. But I don’t think I should go to them and reveal rumors I’ve heard—not facts. Not if Emma asked me not to. For now, Emma’s the one who has to make the decision. She’s the one who must go to the police.”
“I get that,” Luke said. “I just don’t feel good about letting the bad guys win.”
“This story is far from over,” Grace said.
“But it’s not our story.”
“No,” Grace agreed. “It’s Emma’s.”
Luke glanced out the window again, perhaps contemplating the city, perhaps thinking of his home far away. Maybe he was already making plans to leave, to get away, to get back to his own life.
Staying where she was, Grace tried to sort out what she was feeling. Her head was a jumble of emotions and not terribly well-considered thoughts, but there was something important he had to know before he left.
Quietly, she said, “This has been a strange week for me, Luke. Although I was working—working harder than ever--I’ve thought a lot about you. About what kind of person you are. How much I enjoy being with you, even though we’re different. I thought seriously about myself, too, and where I’m going.”
Luke was quiet, listening.
She said, “I’m not the person I was a year ago when I quit my magazine job. Not even the person I was two weeks ago when I started trying to be Dear Miss Vanderbine. I know I’m changing, becoming someone new. You’ve been part of that—a good part. Last week, I thought I was falling in love with you. But tonight, I feel differently.”
“Me, too, Grace,” Luke said from the window.
Short of breath, she got up from the bed and crossed
the carpet to him. She touched his shoulder, and he turned, gathered her up, held her close. Maybe to say good-bye.
He said, “I thought I was falling in love with you, too, but I was wrong. I’m already there.”
Grace felt the sting of tears—relief or love or a painful combination of both. “I feel the same way. It’s too fast, but I knew it tonight—before you got my parents together, before you sweet-talked Pamela Waldrop-Hicks, before you probably saved my life. I knew it tonight when I walked into that ballroom and saw you. I love you.”
He smiled, smoothing a lock of her hair back from her cheek. “I love you, too.”
He kissed her forehead. “But Princess, no matter how many training sessions I have with your mother, I’m never going to be the kind of guy you can take to a tea party.”
She laughed a little. “I don’t want you for tea parties, Luke.”
He kissed her mouth, warm with love, then turning into something hotter. With her hand on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat escalate. Her own felt just as fast, just as strong, just as eager.
“We’re different, all right,” he murmured. “Can you stand it?”
“I think that I can learn to thrive on it.”
She drew him to the bed and kicked off her shoes. She began tugging at the studs in his shirt. He loosened her hair.
After another long, passionate kiss, Luke murmured, “I want to prove how much I’m in love with you, and I plan on spending the whole night doing it. But there’s just one problem.”
“What problem?”
He grinned. “I can’t get out of this crazy cummerbund.”
Laughing, Grace said, “Let me help.”
The end.
To read more about the Vanderbine family, the Blackbird family, and the Abruzzo family, try the Blackbird Sisters Mystery Series, available at all booksellers, from Penguin.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen