See How She Runs (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 2)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Crap, he thought. How much longer could they go on like this? He didn’t recall ever hoping someone would shoot at him before, but there was a first time for everything.

  Surreptitiously, he rapped his knuckles against the table edge. If shots were fired, he wouldn’t be the target; Naomi would. He couldn’t wish for that.

  After dinner he talked to Sam, who called once he got home from work, and then Daniel, who did the same. Daniel and the detective Adam hadn’t met, Sean Holbeck, had come up with a fairly lengthy list of apparently single men staying at lodging in the area or registered at a campground. By running names, they’d eliminated some as unlikely, but were left with too many.

  “Do you know how many men have brown hair?” Daniel grumbled.

  What could Adam say? He and Daniel both could be said to meet Naomi’s vague description, although Adam’s hair was dark enough to be almost black. Trouble was, they couldn’t rule out the possibility that the guy had changed his appearance.

  Sam said something similar, and reported on how goddamn difficult it was to nail down the whereabouts of anyone without giving away why he was looking and what he suspected. Upside, so far nobody appeared to have noticed his peculiar interest. When pressed, he admitted he’d come up with a handful of names of agents who seemed most likely.

  “She sure she didn’t hear the name?” he asked.

  “I’ll grill her some more,” Adam said, and looked up to see Naomi hovering in the living room doorway. She’d gone to take her shower, and he hadn’t heard her come out. “I’ll check in tomorrow,” he said, and ended the call.

  “Grill me?”

  He grimaced. “Sam’s frustrated you can’t give him a name.”

  “I think Greg did say it,” she said slowly. “But I really didn’t care who else was there, because I’d just recognized Dominic Greer from an article in the paper the day before, and I was thinking, hey, cool. And then I heard FBI.”

  “Followed by something about a hit.”

  She nodded.

  “Would you be able to pick out the name from a list?”

  “I really don’t think so,” she said apologetically. “I truly wasn’t paying any attention, and I didn’t hear it clearly.”

  He grunted.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be.”

  “Any word on the video?”

  “Mackay called the guy and he said he’d try to get to it tomorrow.”

  Naomi nodded again, still hovering. “I think if it’s okay, I’m going to do some cooking.”

  “We just ate.”

  “Maybe some desserts I can serve at lunch tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” He sounded as gentle as he could with his sandpaper voice. She appeared grateful for his understanding, which filled him with a complicated stew of emotions. Chronic state, he thought. He even summoned a hopeful smile. “You need a taste tester, I’m available.”

  He won an answering smile that fell short of merry, but tried. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

  He stayed where he was for a few minutes, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen: cupboard doors and drawers opening and closing, refrigerator door, soft bumps and bangs, a crunching sound he thought was eggs being cracked into a bowl.

  Comfort cooking. Had anyone ever offered her a different brand of comfort? Say, held her while she talked out her troubles or even cried? Kissed her until she forgot her troubles? Rocked her to sleep in the most elemental way possible?

  It was awhile before he was sure enough of his self-control to follow her to the kitchen, where he had no doubt seemingly idle conversation would end up with him rolling over and baring some other vulnerability to her.

  *****

  Come morning, Naomi was grumpy and exhausted, and Adam didn’t look as if he felt any better. His light had been out when she got up to go to the bathroom at two a.m., but his voice had immediately come from the darkness asking if she was okay.

  It annoyed her unreasonably that she had to pee during the night and he never seemed to. He ate and drank way more than she did! Where was the justice?

  She winced at the sight of herself in the mirror. If she’d been going anywhere people would see her, she’d have had to trowel on the makeup. As it was, Anita must be getting used to her looking like hell, and Adam—

  It didn’t matter what he thought.

  Nice try.

  He looked terrible, too, though, his eyes sunken and the lines in his face deeper than usual. He had a crease down one cheek, which suggested he had slept some. Oh, God, she thought guiltily; the sofa, bought at a garage sale, had to be hideously uncomfortable even aside from not being long enough for someone a whole lot taller than her. Would he take her up on it if she offered to switch?

  No.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as they prepared to leave.

  He gave her an irritable look. “For what?”

  She opened her mouth then closed it. “For everything” was what she’d have said, but really he was the one making her hang around with a target painted on her back, so why should she apologize?

  He switched off the kitchen light and then the porch light, too, before stepping outside first. “Damn, it’s dark,” he growled. “You have your vest on?”

  “Yes. I’m not an idiot.”

  Grunt.

  Naomi wished she wasn’t able to interpret his nonverbal sounds so accurately.

  “Watch your step.”

  He said that every morning as she squeezed by him, presumably under the belief that if he didn’t, she’d surely trip and fall flat on her face. She knew he wasn’t very happy about the fact that they had to leave for work when it was still pitch dark. The roads between here and the café were always deserted this early. Probably the only people in town awake at this hour were cooks at various restaurants that served breakfast, some hospital employees and a few patrol officers.

  “Wait,” he said with sudden urgency, and Naomi realized she’d been tired enough to disregard their now-standard procedure. She was already plodding toward his Tahoe, her hand out to feel her way past her own car, while Adam was still locking the back door.

  Alarm zinged through her and she came abruptly awake. Even as dark as it was, she felt horribly exposed and swung around to rush back to him.

  She was still using touch to guide her, but suddenly the car window beneath her fingertips just…crumbled. In her bewilderment, Naomi almost turned around again, but Adam came flying at her, his big body surrounding her and crushing her against the side of the car.

  He jerked, hard, and then bore her to the concrete slab of her carport.

  One more sharp, pinging sound, metal on metal, and Adam, snarling under his breath, shoved her forward, crawling on top of her, until they inched around in front of her car. Grit scraped her hands and her knees hurt and she didn’t understand what was happening.

  But then he had his phone out and talked in a low, tense voice, “Shots are being fired, 322 Madrona Street.”

  Shots? But…why hadn’t she heard them?

  Oh my God. He – whichever he – had used a silencer. Death could come like that, in a near-complete absence of sound.

  And, in shock, she realized something else – one of those shots had hit Adam. She’d felt the impact just before they went down.

  “Don’t move,” he growled, when she started to lift herself, desperate to see that he was all right. He put pressure on her head, so that her cheek pressed the rough surface. Now that her eyes had begun adjusting to the dark, she saw the big gun in his hand. He had her completely covered, so if another shot connected it would hit him and not her.

  She cried out in involuntary protest.

  “Hush,” he murmured into her ear.

  The sound of a siren came, far off, as lonely as a train whistle in the night. But as they waited, his body hard and tense above her, the siren grew louder, and she knew when the squad car turned into Jasper Beach.

  Not a minute later, it c
ame flying into her driveway. Another siren sounded, too, somewhere out on the highway.

  “We’re behind the small car,” Adam called. “I’m putting my weapon down.”

  “You the caller?” The voice was a man’s, but it sounded a little high, as if he was scared.

  “Yes. I’m Detective Rostov,” Adam said calmly. “Sheriff Mackay and Chief Colburn both know who I am.”

  “Ms. Kendrick with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are either of you injured?”

  He raised a little higher off her. “Naomi?”

  “I’m okay.”

  After a pause, Adam cleared his throat. “I don’t think so. Can we get up? I’d like to get her safely in the house and then look for the piece of shit who just tried to kill us.”

  The other siren came screaming down their street.

  “He’ll be long gone,” Adam said for her ears only, as he pushed himself up to a kneeling position. “But stay close anyway.”

  Naomi nodded shakily, although in the dark he probably couldn’t see her anyway.

  She hadn’t been entirely honest. Getting slammed to the concrete by someone who outweighed her by eighty pounds or so hadn’t felt good. She stifled a moan as she picked herself up.

  “You were shot,” she said.

  “Yeah. And, goddamnit, it hurts.” His tone was more grumpy than anything. “Here.” Rising to his feet, he hoisted her to hers and gently pushed her toward the steps to her side door. He swore a couple times, something about having dropped the keys, then evidently discovered he’d left the house key inserted in the lock.

  Naomi let him boost her up the steps and inside, where he flipped on the porch and inside lights. She blinked at what felt like starbursts in front of her eyes and tried to figure out why she felt so dazed.

  She should be getting used to being assaulted and shot at, shouldn’t she?

  A second voice in the driveway she recognized as Daniel’s. How had he gotten here so fast? She heard him giving orders and realized a couple more vehicles had pulled up.

  As if none of that was happening, Adam said, “Sit,” and she obeyed, her knees happy to give out and drop her onto one of the kitchen chairs.

  A man filled the doorway. Daniel, apparently satisfied that his orders were being carried out. “You two okay?”

  “I’m trying to find out.” Adam crouched in front of her, his face creased with worry. “Talk to me, Naomi.”

  “You’re the one who was hurt.” She gripped his T-shirt and tried to pull it up. “Are you bleeding?” Tears that hadn’t fallen somehow clogged her voice. “You took a bullet that was aimed at me.”

  “That’s what the vests are for, Naomi. I’ll have a bruise. That’s all.”

  She sat there shaking, the fabric of his T-shirt wadded in two fists, the hard muscles of his belly beneath her knuckles. She knew on one level that they had an audience, but all she really saw was Adam, the sharp lines of his cheekbones never more evident. As if they were alone in a bubble, he never looked away from her.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore,” she whimpered. “I don’t want you to die for me. You shouldn’t do that. Throw yourself in front of me.”

  “It’s all right, sweetheart.” His voice was impossibly tender. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “If the bullet had gone higher or lower—” She couldn’t finish.

  “Most shooters aim for the torso.”

  Her teeth chattered. Ashamed of herself, she tried to turn her face away. Adam caught her chin so she couldn’t hide from him.

  “You’re in shock. And I did hurt you. Your cheek and hands are both scraped, if nothing else. We can go by the E.R…”

  Try for some dignity, she told herself, took a deep breath and said, “Don’t be ridiculous. Go do whatever you have to do.”

  He frowned at her.

  She caught sight of the clock behind him and gasped. “Oh, no! The café! I need to get there.”

  Adam said something obscene about the café.

  “No, I’m okay. I can work,” she insisted, wishing her voice sounded sturdier, hoping she’d actually be able to stand up if he gave her permission.

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.” He rose to his feet and scowled down at her. “Why don’t you go take a hot shower? Then we can put ointment on anyplace that’s raw, ice on any significant bruising.”

  She bit her lip, remembering him sitting in this very chair as she cleaned his scrapes up and dabbed on ointment.

  “Where was he?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Close.” His jaw muscles spasmed. “Between your cottage and Arthur’s. Those shots were fired by a handgun with a suppressor.” He glanced toward Daniel when he said that. “We know he has sniper training. I expected him to keep his distance.”

  Gripping the doorframe, Daniel leaned back to talk to someone outside. After a moment he straightened, shook his head and looked back at Adam and Naomi.

  “No surprise, we’re not finding hide nor hair of him. You didn’t hear a vehicle?”

  Naomi shook her head, but she’d been so stunned by then she wasn’t sure she would have.

  “No,” Adam said. “He’d planned where to go. Are there any empty houses? Or, damn, he could have been parked out on the highway a little to the north. It’s so goddamn dark out there, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to slip away.” He made a rough sound in his throat. “Naomi is right. Unless we can think of a way to set up a foolproof trap, we need to get her safely away from here.”

  Wonderful moment to discover how very much she didn’t want to have to start all over again, create a new life alone. How much she didn’t want to leave Adam. There was probably some kind of biological imperative, she thought; what woman wouldn’t want to keep a man who’d taken a bullet for her?

  Of course, she had no idea if he’d been operating on instinct because he was a police officer and that’s what he did…or whether, maybe, he felt something for her.

  Think about this. Don’t be stupid.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced, and managed to get to her feet without having to clutch him for support. Both men looked surprised as she walked away.

  *****

  Adam could not believe he’d been so careless, let her get what could have been a fatal few steps ahead of him.

  “You got here fast,” he said, turning back to Colburn, who was watching him with a shrewd gaze Adam feared saw more than he had meant to expose.

  “I asked dispatch to let me know immediately about any calls to this address or from you or Naomi. I threw on some clothes and ran.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Think I’ll go home and put on underwear and socks before I start the rest of my day.”

  Adam cracked a smile despite his generally grim mood. “Cup of coffee?”

  “I won’t say no, but let me talk to the officers first.”

  “You also told dispatch to send Cape Trouble officers, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but the second responder is a sheriff’s deputy. We got lucky and he wasn’t far away.”

  “I think the fact that real live shots had been fired scared the shit out of the first guy.”

  Daniel grunted a laugh. “Most of my officers are kids. I have only one guy with any experience.”

  “The kid didn’t do anything wrong. I could tell, that’s all.”

  Daniel left for a few minutes. Adam stared at the coffeemaker, willing it to drip faster, and listened to the sound of the shower.

  If I’d been a step slower, she’d be dead.

  Not necessarily. She was wearing a vest, too, he reminded himself.

  Yeah, but the shot had hit him high. The punch had been over his shoulder blade, which hurt like a son of a bitch now that he thought about it. Naomi was easily six inches shorter than he was. Which meant she’d have been struck in the neck or even head, depending on her stance.

  Adam closed his eyes. Somehow the shooter had known, or at least guessed, that she was wea
ring a vest.

  Or he’d felt rushed when the first shot missed. The one taking out the side window of her little car had been aimed at her torso.

  Why it made him feel better to think the guy hadn’t specifically been trying to blow her head off, Adam didn’t know.

  If she hadn’t turned back when she did, if he’d been a step slower…

  A raw sound escaped him. I was so sure I could keep her safe.

  He willed his body to absorb the adrenaline. As it was, he desperately needed action, and there wasn’t a goddamn useful thing he could do.

  The shower had gone silent. Listening for her, he poured two cups of coffee. He hadn’t taken more than a couple sips when he heard Naomi’s soft footsteps.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said.

  He turned slowly. The strain showed on her face, and he hated seeing the raw scrape he’d put there, but otherwise what he mostly saw was a steely resolve that made him understand how she’d survived this past two years.

  “Thinking what?” he asked.

  “That I should call Greg.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Naomi sat stiffly in the front seat of Adam’s Tahoe, staring at the number she had just typed into her phone, but hesitating before she made the final commitment.

  She didn’t have to do this.

  Yes, I do.

  Although she didn’t look at him, she was very aware of the man waiting patiently beside her. In the driver’s seat, of course, even though they weren’t going anywhere.

  His initial reaction to her suggestion hadn’t been positive. Even after thinking through the ramifications, he remained unhappy. Allowing her to confront a professional killer, albeit long distance, apparently violated his most primitive sense of what was right. What she couldn’t quite tell was whether that was because she was a woman, or only because she was a civilian.

  Or…because it was her, Naomi. Because she wasn’t just someone he could use anymore.

  Did his reasons matter?