Desperate Measures

by Carla Cassidy

  “I don’t think they’ll be back, but just to be on the safe side, I want you in the bathroom until the police arrive. Now, are you ready?”

  No, no, she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want him to get up from her. She needed his body next to hers, making her feel safe despite the horrifying event that had just occurred.

  “Monica?”

  “Yes, okay,” she replied. Her sobs had subsided for the moment, but her heart still beat so quickly she felt dizzy and breathless.

  Jake rose from her but remained in a low crouch as she crawled toward the hallway. She tried to avoid moving through the broken glass that littered the floor, and by the time she reached the bathroom she was crying once again.

  She closed the door and sat with her back against the tub. Her tears half-choked her and her ears still rang with the sound of the bullets flying.

  Somebody had just tried to kill her...them. Who had done this? Who was responsible? Never had she felt such terror.

  What was Jake doing out there? Surely he had called the police by now. And even if he hadn’t she would imagine one of her neighbors had called. Gunshots in this neighborhood never happened.

  There had been so many bullets. She didn’t know much about guns, but if there had only been one person shooting then they had to have used some sort of a semiautomatic weapon.

  Who had done this? The question pounded in her head like a bad headache. And would they come back again? Was it possible this had to do with the gang podcasts she’d been doing?

  Nothing in her life had prepared her for something like this happening. Even when she’d pressed to be Jake’s partner in finding the Vigilante Killer, she hadn’t believed she’d be in any real danger.

  Tonight had been real and present danger.

  She drew in several deep breaths in an effort to stanch her tears. Who did this? The question repeated again and again in her head.

  The sound of sirens caused a shuddery relief to flood her. She swallowed the last of her sobs and then quickly swiped at her cheeks.

  Surely the shooter wouldn’t come back with the police here. She got to her feet and opened the bathroom door. The sound of Jake’s voice along with several others assured her that it was okay to leave the bathroom.

  She walked on unsteady legs into the living room, where Jake was speaking to three police officers. Jake gestured her to his side and, on legs that still shook, she joined them.

  Jake introduced her to Officers Tim Moran, Brad McDonald and Stephanie Boen. “So, what do you think happened here tonight?” Officer Boen asked her.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Monica replied. “We were just talking and all of a sudden the window exploded and bullets were flying.” Her voice trembled, and she was grateful when Jake threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his side. “We could have been killed. We should be dead right now.” She stopped talking and drew in another deep breath as she heard her own hysterical voice.

  “I’ve caught your podcast several times, Ms. Wright,” Officer McDonald said. “Is it possible one of your stories is the cause of what happened here tonight?”

  Monica told them about the gang series she was running, and then Jake reminded her about Larry Albright. She told the officers about the threatening messages he’d left her and about him following her to the restaurant and throwing a beer bottle at her.

  “It’s a big leap from throwing a bottle at me and what happened tonight,” she said. Looking around the room her chill returned, and she began to shiver once again. “Whoever did this wanted to kill me.” A new hollow wind of fear blew through her.

  Jake tightened his arm around her. “We aren’t going to let that happen.”

  For the next hour or so they were questioned over and over again while other officials dug bullets out of her walls. When that evidence had been collected, all them left except Officer McDonald.

  “I’ll be honest with you, this has all the markings of a typical gang-related drive-by shooting,” he told them, and then looked at Monica. “Do you have some place you can stay for the rest of the night?”

  “She does,” Jake answered for her.

  “In fact, I would recommend you stay away from here even longer than a night,” the officer continued. “If you have ticked off somebody in the gang world, then you probably need to see if a little time will cool things off and maybe talk to the men who were on your podcast.”

  This couldn’t be her life. It couldn’t be true that somebody wanted her dead. And yet it was true, and she’d never been so frightened.

  She listened absently as Officer McDonald said they would investigate the crime. But he also said that drive-by shootings were particularly difficult to solve. “I’ll sit out at the curb until you two leave here.” And then he was gone.

  Monica became aware of the hot air wafting in where the front window used to be. Somewhere in the neighborhood several dogs barked. It was all so surreal. Her house now felt like an alien space and not the sanctuary she’d always believed it to be.

  “Do you have anything we can use to cover the window until we can get it fixed?” Jake asked.

  “Uh... I think there might be some plywood out in my shed,” she replied. Her voice sounded weak and trembling even to her own ears. “There’s also a hammer and nails in there.”

  “Why don’t you come into the kitchen and sit while I see about finding material to board up the window.”

  “Okay.” She was suddenly eager to get out of the living room, where despite the officer’s car being parked, another round of bullets could come in unimpeded by a glass window. Would the shooter or shooters come back?

  In the kitchen she handed him the shed key and then she sank down in a chair at the table. “Jake...be careful. They might come back.” Sadly, even policemen could be killed in a hail of bullets. She bit back tears that threatened to fall again.

  “I don’t think they’ll be back,” he replied. “For all they know right now, we’re both dead. Sit tight and I’ll get this taken care of in no time.” He disappeared out the back door.

  For all they know right now, we’re both dead. His words played and replayed in her mind. She chewed on her index fingernail as a million other thoughts flew through her head.

  If the shooting was gang-related, then she didn’t know why. Her interviews with the gang members had not focused on their criminal activities, but rather on what had drawn them to that lifestyle and what they believed needed to be done to solve the gang issues in the city. The men she had talked to had been more than cooperative. They had appeared pleased that somebody was actually listening to them. So why would they come after her now?

  And if she needed to stay away from here for a few days, where would she go? Her father lived in a small house and he didn’t even have a bed in either of the guest rooms. One held workout equipment and the other room he used as a storage area. She would die if she had to go to one of her sister’s homes. She didn’t want to hear them tsk-tsking her over her lifestyle or career.

  She’d go to a motel even though the idea of being all alone was abhorrent right now. Tears once again pressed hot behind her eyes.

  What was taking Jake so long? Had somebody been hiding in her shed? Or in the darkness of her backyard? Had he been attacked? She stared at the back door, her heartbeat accelerating with a new fear.

  What if Jake had been jumped? Maybe he was right now in the backyard unconscious or...

  Just when she thought she might scream, he came back in. He carried a hammer and half a sheet of plywood. He leaned the plywood against the wall. “This should do it,” he said. “But I’m going to need your help.”

  She jumped out of the chair. “Let’s do it.” Anything to take her mind off her horrible thoughts.

  It took them only fifteen minutes to position the wood over the opening the missing glass had created and nai
l it solidly in place.

  “Now pack some bags. You’re going to stay with me,” he said.

  “Really? I’m supposed to stay away from here for more than a night.” She stared at him, wanting nothing more than his arms around her.

  He seemed to sense her need, for he pulled her into his arms. “You’ll be safe at my place for as long as you need to be there,” he whispered into her ear. “I have lights and alarms and mean guard dogs with sharp teeth who will go after anyone who gets close to my house.”

  A small laugh released from her. He held her only a moment longer and then let go of her. “Now go pack up what you’ll need to be away from here for a week or so. While you’re doing that, I’ll do a little cleanup in the living room. Broom?”

  “In the pantry,” she replied.

  As he began to sweep the hardwood floor, she went into her office. The first thing she packed was her work equipment. She’d wanted a story and now she had one, but she wished she didn’t. Tonight real danger had come far too close. If it wasn’t for Jake’s quick action in pulling her to the floor, they both would have been dead, their bodies riddled with bullets.

  With her equipment all packed up, she went from her office into her bedroom and pulled out a large suitcase from her closet. She had moved from paralyzing fear to a curious numbness.

  The numbness kept its grip on her as she packed clothes and toiletries. She then went back into the living room, where Jake was sweeping up the last of the broken glass from the floor.

  Even without the broken glass, the room looked like a war zone. The wall was riddled with holes and all the pictures she’d had hanging were ruined. Even though she knew it wasn’t true and it was just her imagination, right now the room smelled evil.

  Would she ever feel safe here again? She didn’t know the answer. All she knew for sure was she was ready to go anyplace but here.

  “Let’s get your things loaded into my car and get out of here,” Jake said, as if he’d read her thoughts.

  She didn’t breathe easier until they were in his car and driving down the street away from her house.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Right now I just feel kind of numb.”

  “Maybe numb is good for right now.”

  “At least I’m not screaming or sobbing. I’m sorry you had to put up with that. There’s nothing worse than having to deal with a hysterical woman.”

  He flashed her a quick glance. “Don’t be silly. Trust me, I was definitely screaming on the inside.”

  She studied his profile, illuminated by the dashboard lights. “Are you sure you want me at your house?”

  He smiled reassuringly at her. “Monica, I have a big house with two guest rooms. I want to make sure you’re safe, so yes, I want you at my house. I just hope you’re not an irritatingly cheerful morning person.”

  To her surprise she laughed. “Trust me, I’m not anything near a cheerful morning person. Truthfully, I’m pretty grouchy when I first wake up.” She sobered and continued to gaze at him. His handsome features looked strong and she found comfort in the strength that emanated from him.

  Suddenly she was thinking about what had happened just before the bullets had flown. The kiss. Oh, that amazing kiss. It had torched a wonderful heat that had sizzled through her from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes.

  His mouth had been demanding and hungry against hers and she wondered what else might have happened between them if the window hadn’t been shot out.

  Now she was going to be staying in his house and despite everything that had happened, right now all she could think about was if and when he might kiss her again.

  Chapter Six

  Jake sat at his kitchen table with his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. Dawn’s light drifted in the window, bringing with it the promise of a new day.

  He was exhausted. He’d barely slept the night before. He’d gotten Monica settled into one of his guest rooms and she had immediately gone to bed.

  He’d been too pumped up with adrenaline to sleep and had sat in his recliner for hours with his brain working overtime. Many of those same thoughts still whirled around in his head right now.

  Death had come far too close to them the night before. If they hadn’t hit the floor quickly enough they both would have been killed.

  His inclination was to believe it had been a result of Monica’s podcast. It was the only answer that really made sense. Still, he’d considered that it was possible it was the Vigilante Killer who had somehow gotten word that he was talking to a reporter. He supposed it was possible the murderer had seen their picture in the paper. But the attack wasn’t the style of that particular killer and so he’d dismissed that idea.

  Even though the odds were against them, he hoped like hell the police could figure out who was behind the assault and get him, her or them behind bars.

  He took a sip of his coffee and thought about the woman who was now asleep beneath navy sheets in his guest room. She had caught him by surprise last night. Kiss me, Jake. When she’d said that to him he hadn’t been able to do anything else but comply.

  Kissing her had been breathtaking. The softness of her lips...the warmth of her body against his, had dizzied his senses with desire. She had immediately banished the grief that had welled up inside him when he’d been talking about Suzanna.

  If the bullets hadn’t flown, what else might have happened between them? If she’d said, “Make love to me, Jake,” would they have wound up in her bedroom? Or would he have come to his senses and stopped that from happening? He honestly didn’t know the answer to that question.

  His feelings for her were crazy and all wrong. The last thing he wanted was to lead her on, to make her believe he was interested in a long-term relationship with her.

  Despite the fact that she was now under his roof, he had to keep his distance from her. There was no question she was a temptation, but kissing her had been wrong and he couldn’t let anything like that happen between them again.

  Once they identified the Vigilante Killer, the odds were good he’d never see her again. She’d have her big story and he’d go back to the life he deserved...forever alone and without love or laughter in his life.

  He was still seated at the table sipping coffee and thumbing through the morning paper at just after nine o’clock when Monica appeared. Clad in a navy blue robe and with her hair sleep-tousled, she looked utterly charming...except for the frown that rode her features.

  “Coffee is in the pot,” he said. “Cups are in the cabinet above the coffeepot.”

  She nodded and beelined in that direction. He watched as she grabbed a cup, filled it, and then walked to the table and sat in a chair opposite him.

  She didn’t speak and neither did he. She also didn’t look at him. She took a drink of her coffee and then stared into the cup as if it might hold the answers to all the age-old questions.

  He’d been warned that she was crabby when she first woke up and she definitely looked crabby. There was nothing about her that invited any conversation. When she’d finished off one cup of coffee, she went back to the countertop and refilled her cup. When she returned to the table she took a couple of sips, leaned back in her chair and released a deep sigh.

  She looked at him with a sheepish grin. “Thank you for respecting my morning crankiness by not trying to talk to me.”

  “The frown on your face was enough to scare anyone mute,” he teased.

  She winced. “Was it that bad?”

  He nodded. “It was that bad.”

  “I don’t know why I wake up in such a bad mood. I’ve been that way since I was a little girl and of course both my sisters and my dad are bright-eyed, cheerful morning people. I remember wanting to smash them all in their happy faces with a waffle.”

  He laughed and then sob
ered. “How did you sleep?”

  “I was afraid I would have nightmares all night long, but I went out like a light and didn’t suffer from any bad dreams.”

  “That’s good.”

  “What about you?”

  “I had a restless night,” he admitted. “I didn’t have any bad dreams but I just couldn’t shut off my brain enough to fall asleep.”

  “I hate nights like that. I’m sorry, Jake. I’m sorry about all of this.”

  “Did you hire somebody to shoot up your house?” he asked gently.

  Her eyes widened. “Of course not.”

  “Monica, you have nothing to apologize for.”

  She offered him a small smile. “Thanks, I guess I needed to hear that.” She leaned forward and he caught a whiff of her scent. “I was wondering if there’s someplace in your house I could set up my equipment so I can continue to do my podcasts in the evenings.”

  Of course her first thought would be about her work. She was ambitious. And he was an arrogant fool to think that her asking him to kiss her the night before had anything to do with her wanting a relationship with him.

  He’d been emotional about Suzanna’s death at the time she’d asked him to kiss her. It had probably been done in an effort to comfort him and had meant nothing to her.

  “We can set you up in my office. I’m not doing any work in there right now. It has a big drafting table that can be folded down to give you plenty of space for all your equipment.”

  “That sounds awesome.” She gave him a bright smile. Even with a bit of raccoon eyes and no other makeup, she looked beautiful.

  He got up from the table. “Are you up for some breakfast?”

  “Thanks, but I’m not really much of a breakfast eater.” She lifted her cup. “I prefer to drink my breakfast.”

  “Yeah, I’m not much of a morning eater, either.” He leaned his back against the counter. The smell of her had stirred him and he found himself wondering what she had on beneath the short blue robe.

  Get a grip, Lamont, he told himself firmly. If he couldn’t keep those kinds of thoughts out of his head then it was going to be one hell of a long week.