His cell phone finally stopped ringing, and Robin quickly reset it to silent, but didn’t dare to move.
“Let Dolphina go.” Will was still conscious, and determined to get Dolphina to safety.
She, however, was just as adamant about not leaving him.
“I’m telling you,” Will said. “She’s…not a robot.”
She’s not a what? Holy shit.
Adam’s stalker. This was fucking Adam’s stalker. Somehow, when he’d come to Boston, he’d fucking brought his fucking stalker with him. Son of a bitch.
“Look, I know she’s not a robot,” Will persisted. “She’s my girlfriend. I think I would’ve noticed her…metallic exoskeleton.”
“She may have been changed since you were with her last,” the stalker pointed out.
Robin’s cell phone lit up as Jules called him again, and he froze as fucking Adam’s fucking stalker came halfway up the stairs. He couldn’t make it back into the bedroom without being seen, so he turned the speaker volume to zero and answered the phone, slipping it into his pocket, then closed his eyes and prayed.
Please God, let the dismal Boston weather that he’d complained about so often provide enough shadows for this crazy bastard not to see him standing here…
“You need to let me call an ambulance,” Dolphina said, her voice carrying clearly up from downstairs. Robin knew she was trying to draw the gunman back down to her. “Please.”
“That’s not possible.”
“He’s going to die! He’s not a robot, he’s a human being and you shot him!”
“Dolph, come on,” Will said. “Don’t piss him off.”
“No one wants collateral damages,” the man said, “but it happens. It’s the price of this war we’re fighting.”
No doubt about it, he was completely insane.
As Adam watched, Jules went bullshit.
Apparently, Robin, Dolphina and some reporter named Will were all in the house with Jim Jessop. Robin had managed to answer his phone and leave it open, so Jules could listen in. Whatever was happening in there, it wasn’t good.
Adam didn’t know the details, but it became clear that Jessop wasn’t afraid to use his weapon. He’d already shot the reporter.
Christ, he felt sick. If Robin died, it would be Adam’s fault…
“I need a negotiator and a SWAT team,” Jules barked orders into Alyssa’s phone as Alyssa used his cell to monitor the situation in the house, “and at least one ambulance. And I need them all to stay a block away, sirens off as they approach.”
Robin’s brother-in-law, Cosmo, was waiting for them on the corner. As Adam watched, Cowboy Sam went over to fill him in.
“Jessop’s talking to Dolphina and Will,” Alyssa reported. “Will is still conscious, but he doesn’t sound good. Dolphina’s doing her best, but…”
Jules looked at his watch and shook his head. “I’m not going to wait. I’ve got to go in there. I’m just going to walk in the door like I’m coming home.”
“Slow down, Cassidy,” Sam said. “There are four of us. Don’t knee-jerk. Let’s figure this out.”
Figure what out? This was crazy. Sure, they outnumbered the gunman, but they had no weapons. What were they going to do, rush inside and hope one of them could grab that gun before they all got shot? Talk about insane…
“Let me talk to him,” Adam stepped forward and volunteered. “To Jessop. Maybe if I…I don’t know, stand in the street and shout to him, he’ll come outside.”
“And he’ll shoot you down like a dog,” Sam pointed out. “You’re his target, Astro Boy.”
Good point. But still. If Jessop stayed inside the house, he could well shoot Robin down like a dog. “I’ll get behind a car,” Adam said, but they’d already dismissed his idea.
“Will and Dolphina are in the foyer, near the front door,” Cosmo reported. Apparently he’d gone over to the house to look in the windows. Adam hadn’t even realized he was gone, and he was already back. “Jessop’s on the stairs.”
“Jessop just found Robin,” Alyssa announced grimly, phone to her ear. “Jules…”
Oh, Christ.
“I’m going in there,” Jules said again, ready to march into hell if he had to. “Right now.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
“Who else is up here?”
And yes, that would be the robot-hunter speaking directly to Robin.
He was busted—and quite possibly dead.
“I’m the only one,” Robin admitted, praying that Jules was listening in to all of this. “I was taking a nap. Dolphina didn’t know I was home.” Crap, he was babbling. He had to calm it down—he wasn’t the crazy one here. He forced himself to smile. “I was just coming downstairs to talk to you.”
“You’re Robin Chadwick.”
Breathe. “Yeah, but only until tomorrow. Tomorrow it’s going to be Robin Cassidy. I’m getting married—taking my partner’s name. I’m excited. I’ve, uh, never been married before and I’m crazy in love with him. Big feelings for this guy. Huge, you know?”
As an actor, it was all about the subtext, and he hoped that what he was really saying came through. Dear Jules, if I don’t survive this, please always remember how much I loved you…
The man with the gun didn’t react, didn’t smile, didn’t blink. And Robin kept his smile wide, trying his Oscar-nominated best to be charming and pleasant—and to completely ignore that totally non-ignorable gun. Maybe if he didn’t stare at it as if he were a terrified antelope, or whatever it was that hunters hunted, Crazy Stalker Man wouldn’t feel the urge to use it on him. “You’re here about Adam, right?” Robin continued. “Because he’s”—he lowered his voice—“a robot?”
The man’s gun hand dropped a bit. “You know about Adam?”
“Shit, yeah,” Robin said, wracking his brain. What was this guy’s name? Jules had told him he’d signed all of the e-mails he’d sent…“I’ve known for a while. Dude, I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure who I should call to report it. I mean, yeah, Jules works for the Bureau, but robots aren’t exactly his department. Still, he tries to stay informed, and he heard the buzz that you were in town, chasing Adam, which is good, because, you know, uninvited robots at a wedding…? Very uncool.” He held out his hand, as if offering it to shake, as he moved toward Jim Jordan? Jesse Jordan? Jesse James…? And he found the bastard’s name, somewhere in a cobwebby corner of his brain. “Jim Jessop, right?”
Jessop switched his gun into his left hand so he could shake Robin’s hand. Score.
“Jules, come in now!” Robin shouted and kicked the motherfucker’s gun out of his hand and down the stairs.
Jules didn’t need his cell phone to hear Robin, and he shouted “Go,” to both Sam and Cosmo as—God, no!—a gunshot rang out. He kicked open his front door and burst inside.
He’d been moving into position on the front porch, staying low so the gunman wouldn’t see him through the window, waiting for the others to get into place, too.
The streak of blood on his stairs had brought him to a state of deadly calm, where events played out almost in slow motion. He’d been here before, and he recognized the surreal, almost-detached feeling. He would, if he was not careful, kill the man who’d shot Will. And not give a damn about it—not until later.
He also wouldn’t give a damn about the fact that he was putting himself into range of the gunman’s weapon. If he got shot, he knew he wouldn’t feel it. It was and would be inconsequential.
As long as Robin was safe.
The door he’d kicked open hit the wall with a smash, and he heard windows shattering from the back of the house—Sam and Cosmo—coming to help him. In that long, drawn-out fraction of a second, as Jules scanned the foyer, he saw Dolphina crouched beside Will, in front of the door to the office.
He saw Robin, too, on the stairs with the gunman. It was hard to tell who’d grabbed who, but they were tumbling down together, and Jules’s heart damn near stopped
, because it seemed almost certain they were struggling to gain control of that gun.
The one that had just been fired, perhaps already mortally wounding Robin…
Jules leaped toward them, even as they bounced toward him.
“Get down,” he shouted to Dolphina, afraid the weapon would discharge again, and she moved, not back, but over and across Will’s prone body, as if to protect him.
Robin had Jessop around the waist, but the man was struggling to get free, and Jules grabbed him too, shouting, “Where’s the gun?”
Where the fuck was it? It wasn’t in Jessop’s hands. The man was a freaking lunatic, flailing and fighting—it was all they could do, both Jules and Robin together, to restrain him.
Enough bullshit—Jules hit the motherfucker in the face with his fist, cleaning his clock. Jessop slumped unconscious.
“God,” Robin said, as he flopped back onto the floor. “Oh, my God!”
“Are you hurt?” Now that the danger was past, the calm vanished. It was replaced by something far more frantic as he turned to his fiancé. “Were you shot?”
But there was no blood on him, nor on Jessop. Robin was just lying there to catch his breath. He shook his head, pointing up at the ceiling, where, indeed, there was a hole in the plaster. “Dolphina,” he gasped.
Shit, was she hit, maybe by a ricochet?
But when Jules turned, he saw Dolphina was holding Jessop’s weapon. She had it clasped in both hands, and very accurately aimed at Jessop’s prone body.
Sam and Cosmo were there—Sam taking possession of Jessop. Alyssa was in the house, too. She gently took the weapon from Dolphina as Jules grabbed Robin, as Robin grabbed him back, and they both just held each other tightly, but only for a few short seconds.
“He shot Will,” Robin told him, his voice breaking. “He needs an ambulance.”
Jules nodded. “We’ve got one standing by.”
Just like that, it was over.
Dolphina had let Alyssa take the gun from her numb fingers, as Cosmo knelt next to Will.
“He needs to go to the hospital,” Dolphina said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cosmo replied as he looked at the makeshift tourniquet Dolphina had tied around Will’s leg. “Send in the paramedics,” he roared out the broken door. “We’re clear in here, but we’ve got a man down, in need of immediate medical aid.”
Then Jules was there, too, his hand reassuring and solid on Dolphina’s shoulder as he smiled past her, at Will. “Hey, Schroeder. So that sucked, huh?” He looked at Cosmo, with Robin right behind him. Dolphina could see worry for Will on both of their faces. “How’s he doing?”
Cosmo looked at Dolphina, then looked at Jules and Robin. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Oh, God.
“Will,” Dolphina said, but his eyes were closed now and he didn’t open them, as if the only reason he’d stayed conscious before was to try to protect her from the gunman. As if he now knew she was safe, so he could…“Don’t die.”
“Where are those paramedics?” Jules shouted, and then, thank God, they were there, carrying a stretcher and cases of medical equipment.
“We need space,” one of them said.
“Will,” Dolphina said again, as she was pushed back, away from him.
“I’m still here,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’t dare die. I promised…you…” He opened his eyes then. “Dolph…Maggie…She’s at home…”
“I’ll get her,” Dolphina said as they wheeled him out. “Don’t worry. Just…We’ll see you at the hospital, okay?”
Alyssa was there then, with Dolphina’s coat. “Come on,” she said, gently helping Dolphina into it. “I’ll drive you.”
Sam stuck his head into the living room, where Jules was giving his statement to the detective from the Boston Police.
The FBI agent had champion-class peripheral vision, and when he looked up, Sam caught his eye.
“Excuse me,” Jules interrupted himself to turn more completely to Sam.
“I wanted to let you both know,” Sam said, coming farther into the room, “that Troubleshooters and Team Sixteen have arrived. They’re going to be providing security here at the house tonight—at least until we have a chance to verify that when Jessop said we it was only because he also thinks he’s the Queen of England.”
Jules laughed. “Thanks.”
It seemed kind of obvious that Jim Jessop was a loner, and that his use of we was at the most more delusion, but Sam also knew that Jules was grateful to not have to worry about that.
Sam went back into the kitchen, checking his cell for text messages from Alyssa. She and Dolphina had picked up Maggie and arrived at the hospital, where Will was in surgery, getting his leg repaired. It had been a good hour, but there was still no word.
He was starting to get antsy. The reporter had pissed him off in that clumsy episode with Jones last weekend, but dying from a gunshot wound was too severe a punishment for his crime.
Cosmo was making coffee, which was a bad idea. More caffeine. Just what Sam didn’t need. He’d pulled open the fridge and was browsing, when he realized that Adam was no longer sitting at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich.
Fuck.
He swiftly went back through the living room, and into the front of the house, but the little prick wasn’t in the office, where the glass was being replaced in the window Sam had gone through, feet first. And, yeah, somewhat unnecessarily. Still, neither Jules nor Robin had complained.
He checked the first floor bathroom.
Empty.
Sam looked up the staircase. Adam hadn’t yet talked to the police, and there was nowhere else in the house he could have gone…
Sam took the stairs to the second floor, two at a time.
Robin had gone up after giving his statement to the police, announcing that he was going to take a shower, try to ease some of the muscle pulls and bruises he’d gotten when he’d used himself as a wrecking ball to knock ol’ Jessop down the stairs.
Boy Wonder had some balls, that was for sure. And faith, too. He’d shouted to Jules as he’d gone for the guy, certain that Jules was right outside—as indeed he had been.
The door to the master bedroom was ajar, and Sam could hear voices. Robin and, yes, Adam. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Bracing himself, he knocked on the door even as he pushed it open and…
Adam and Robin stood by the door to the bathroom, and they both looked up, clearly startled as he came into the room. It wasn’t quite that they sprang apart, but it was pretty damn close.
And great. Robin wore only a towel—bath sheet—around his waist.
Adam was amused by Sam’s discomfit.
“I was just telling Adam he shouldn’t be up here,” Robin said.
“Yeah,” Sam said dryly. “I couldn’t help but notice how you were on the verge of kicking him down the stairs.”
Robin’s temper sparked. “I generally try talking first, before resorting to violence.”
“This is what your life is going to be like,” Adam murmured, just loudly enough for Sam to hear him, too. “Everywhere you go, Cowboy Sam here is going to be checking up on you. Won’t that be fun?”
Now Robin turned his impatience on Adam. “Will you please just go back downstairs?”
“Adam, get the fuck away from him.”
Sam turned to see Jules coming through the open doorway behind him. Oh, good. Just what this happy scenario needed. Mr. I’m-Too-Jealous-For-My-Shirt.
Robin flashed Sam a look. Help.
“This was my fault,” Sam said, trying to slow Jules down. “I lost track of Astro Boy and he wandered off.”
Adam wisely backed away from Robin. “Chill, J. It’s not what it looks like.”
“I think it’s exactly what it looks like,” Jules countered hotly. “Like you coming up here, uninvited, to hassle Robin and piss me off.”
“I wanted to see the new bathroom,” Adam lied obviously. “It’s very nice,” he added, but he wasn’t looking at the
renovations, he was looking at Robin.
Apparently Adam didn’t realize that, with the amount of adrenaline Jules no doubt still had in his system, he was in danger of doing a quick exit from the house, via the window.
The repair would be relatively quick and easy, considering the glass replacement squad was already working downstairs.
“I can’t believe this.” Jules was about as pissed as Sam had ever seen him. “You come to Boston to ask me for help, you put Robin and all my friends in danger, Will gets shot—he may die!—and this is—What is this, Adam? Your sick version of thank you? What were you thinking?”
Adam didn’t answer—he didn’t need to. Jules answered for him.
“You were thinking Let me take Robin’s temperature.” Jules was close to laying hands on the little bastard, and Sam shifted his weight, ready to keep the peace or at least play referee. “See if he’s starting to get tired of Jules. But he’s not. Because he loves me—a concept that you couldn’t possibly understand. He’s never going to cheat on me—not with you, not with anyone.”
Adam laughed at that. “Yeah, but that’s not going to keep you from worrying about it, is it?” He turned to Robin. He had this way of looking at him—at anyone male, really. Sam had experienced it—as if he was mentally undressing him. “Doesn’t that get old? Where were you, who were you with, why’d you get back so late…” He cut himself off and changed the subject, intentionally baiting Jules. “Damn, R., whatever workout you’ve been doing, keep it up, baby. You are looking fine.”
“Knock it off, Adam,” Robin said from between clenched teeth.
“You might want to put on a robe.” Jules had had enough, but now his anger reached out and smacked Robin.
“Yeah, Robin,” Adam mocked as Robin went into the bathroom to do just that. “What are you doing, walking around looking like a God, tempting all the boys, the way you do? Except, oh, wait. Word has it this new show you’re in has an awful lot of nudity. Kinda seems silly to put on a robe when all anyone has to do to get an eyeful is turn on their TV.” He turned to Jules. “News flash, J. You’re going to have to get used to sharing. And not just figuratively, but literally, too. Man, all those love scenes he’s been shooting with all those hot, young actors…That must be driving you mad.”
All Through the Night Page 23