by Jessi Gage
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” A female voice. Calm.
The exact opposite of how I was feeling. How did Gonzo know Cole wouldn’t be coming? Had he been listening to a scanner or something?
I gasped. What if Gonzo was the accomplice who had called Brock when he’d been confronting me?
“Someone’s banging on my boyfriend’s door,” I whispered, pushing the orange pin to take the safety off. “I think he’s been involved in a crime, and he’s drunk. It’s Gonz—Gordon Zondovan.”
The dispatcher asked for the address and I gave it.
“Playing coy, huh?” Gonzo grumbled loudly. “Not your style, honey. Not from what I heard. You’re loose as a sloppy shoestring. Why don’t you come down here and tell me where your dad’s money is, and I’ll give you a little reward.” He cupped himself through his jeans and gave a thrust.
I tasted bile.
“Is that him I hear?” the dispatcher said.
“Yes.”
“Are you inside?”
“No. I was going out to my car when he came down the driveway. I’m crouched behind it. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Stay hidden. A unit is on the way.”
“No problem. Oh, I should probably let you know I’m armed. I carry concealed. A .45.”
“I’ll inform the officer en route. They’re two miles out. Stay on the line.”
“What have we here?” A male voice behind me. Not Gonzo.
I sucked in my breath and whipped my head around to find a man with a long moustache stepping out from behind the beast. I didn’t recognize him.
“Thought I heard someone whispering over here. Looks like I hit the jackpot.” He must have been riding with Gonzo. When I’d crouched down, I’d lost sight of the car. All the noise Gonzo was making probably covered the sound of this guy getting out.
“Yo, Gonz. Got her. She’s right here.” He came at me, hand outstretched, like he was going to grab me.
Heart in my throat, I dropped the phone and swung the gun up in a two-handed grip. “Back off.”
The man froze mid-step. Hands up, he took two big steps back. He didn’t appear armed, but who knew what might be lurking under his denim jacket. His eyes darted over my head. Gonzo was coming. I heard his footsteps getting louder on the frozen dirt.
I had a decision to make, and I had better make it quick.
I heard no sirens, which meant the cops were at least a couple minutes from arriving. That was a lot of time when you considered how fast a bullet could travel.
Gonzo carried concealed like most of Dad’s friends. He was several paces behind me and probably already had me in his sights. If I let him get any closer, I’d end up at point-blank range between two potentially armed men. My attention would be divided. I’d be a sitting duck.
Making a split-second decision, I lunged up from my crouch and tackled the unfamiliar man around his waist. I figured the odds were good Gonzo had a gun in his hand, and if I looked at him and saw it, I’d be too terrified to act. But he wouldn’t shoot if I was in a tangle on the ground with his friend, and if I was in a tangle on the ground, I could potentially keep the other man from drawing any weapons if he had them.
After my assault, once I was in school in Philly, I’d taken some self-defense classes. I’d learned one of the best weapons a woman has against a man who outclasses her weight-and-muscle-wise is the element of surprise. Gonzo’s friend wasn’t particularly big, but when I buried my shoulder in his gut, a wall of muscle stopped me. He was strong. But I’d surprised him.
He staggered back. His arms came up and reached for me.
Hand glued around the .45, finger off the trigger, I locked my arms around his waist.
A flurry of curses erupted into the night.
“Just throw her down.”
Hands grabbed at my coat. Gonzo’s friend was trying to pry me off himself.
I squeezed with all my strength.
“She’s like a fucking spider monkey. I can’t get her off.”
“Shit, I hear sirens. Bring her. We can’t leave her. She knows too much.”
Nope. Wasn’t going with these men.
I heard the sirens too, and I was determined to get to Cole’s side tonight. Which meant the cops needed to arrest these jerks.
The man I was latched onto tried waddling backwards around the beast to get to the sedan.
I wrapped one of my legs around one of his.
He lost his footing and stumbled. “Get off me, bitch!”
The sirens were getting louder.
Wild-eyed, Gonzo made a break for the sedan.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” his friend said. “You leave me here like this, I’ll tell them how you fucking mowed down a statie and pulled a gun on his woman.” He was still trying to make it to the car. “Jesus, get this gun away from her. She’s going to shoot me in the ass.”
Gonzo came closer.
I kicked out, and he grabbed my leg. Not good.
“Come on, Mandy. Get in the car! Don’t make me hurt you!” Hands like a vise, he twisted.
Something in my knee popped. Pain shot up my leg.
I let go of his friend and fell facedown to the ground. Rolling to my back, I got the .45 up even though my arms were shaking with fear.
Gonzo was coming at me, pistol in one hand. He brought it up to aim it at me.
I fired. The recoil sent the hammer flying toward my face. Everything went white. I flashed back to when I’d hit that can Dad had thrown in the air and dented my forehead with his 9mm.
Surrounded by sunshine, Dad’s handsome, bearded face broke into a smile. “Atta girl. You done good, honey.”
* * * *
The next thing I knew, I was blinking into a bright light.
“Mandy? Mandy, you with us?”
The light moved away, and I squinted at the face that came into focus above me. “Jeremy Folsom?” We’d shared a table in Home Ec. and made a quilt and several batches of burned cookies together. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s back,” he called out. Then he gave me a lopsided smile. “I’m a paramedic. Looks like you knocked yourself out while firing your weapon.”
I noticed his dark blue paramedics uniform. The ground was cold and hard under me. I tried to sit up.
Jeremy kept me on my back with a hand on my shoulder. “No. Just relax.”
“Take it easy, Ms. Holcomb. You’re going to have quite the shiner tomorrow.” Chief Glenmore’s gravelly voice was a welcome sound.
I blinked him into focus. Pain rolled over me in a nauseating wave. My knee ached. My cheek throbbed. My ears were ringing. “Cole?” My voice sounded far away.
“He’s at Exeter. Don’t know his status yet. Looks like you’re going to be joining him. Let’s get you loaded up, and you can tell me what happened once the little birdies stop circling.”
“Gonzo?”
“You hit him,” he said grimly.
I swallowed hard. “Dead?”
“Not yet. On his way to Exeter. Don’t worry about him. Billy Frackas, guy with Gonzo, told us everything. Nine-one-one operator was still on your cell line. She’s talking to Bennets now. So far she’s corroborated his story. Gonzo was trying to get you in the car. You fought to keep that from happening. She got it all on tape. You’re in the clear.”
That was a relief, but only a small one. I didn’t want Gonzo to die. I didn’t want him to go free, either. “I think Gonzo hit Cole with his car. The other guy—Billy?—said something about it.”
Glenmore nodded. His brows lowered. In the shadow of his police cap, he looked downright sinister. “We’ve got Billy at the station now. Soon as I see you settled at Exeter, I’ll go interview him about what happened before they came here.” Cops didn’t like when other cops got hurt. If Gonzo had really hit Cole with his car, he was going away for a long time. If he lived.
Jeremy pressed his fingers along the
back of my neck. “Any pain here?”
I licked my lips and told him it was just my knee and face that hurt. As he and another medic lifted me onto a stretcher, he grinned down at me and said, “The gunsmith’s daughter beaned herself with a gun. You’re never going to live that one down.”
I might have grinned with him if I weren’t sick over why I’d had to pull the trigger and over the potential consequences.
“As far as reputations go, that’s one I think I can handle.”
And I would be handling it for a long time, since I’d already decided to make Newburgh my home again. Provided Cole would be okay and didn’t mind if his roomie extended her stay permanently.
Chapter 28
The curtain to my ER bay got swept open, and two of the most welcome faces came into view. Stacey’s brows were slanted with worry as she pushed a wheelchair that held none other than my battered, hospital-gown-wearing, intense-eyed boyfriend.
“Jesus, baby, you had me so worried,” Cole said as Stacey wheeled him beside my gurney and set the brake. One side of his face was raw with road rash, and his left arm was in a sling.
“Me? What about you?” I asked, reaching for him. “I was beside myself. All I heard was you got hit and were in the hospital. How are you? Are you okay?” I’d been at the ER half an hour without a word of news about Cole.
Glenmore had left me a few minutes ago to find out whatever he could. His tall frame, made bulky by his police-issue parka, appeared in the curtain opening. The chief’s mouth was smiling but his eyes were weary beneath the bill of his cap. He nodded at me and stepped back to close the curtain and give the three of us some privacy.
Cole stood up out of the wheelchair and came into my arms, bending over the bed and bracing himself with his good arm. “Dislocated my shoulder and have a concussion, but I’ll mend.”
“A concussion? You should be in bed,” I told him.
Stacey snorted.
“Nothing was going to keep me from my girl,” Cole said, melting my heart.
“Now that I know you’re both going to be okay, I’m going to hit up the Starbucks in the lobby,” Stacey said. Winking at me, she slipped out to leave me and Cole alone.
“Heard you took the hammer of my .45 to your face.” His gaze zeroed in on the blooming bruise on my cheek. He kissed it then nudged me over and lay down beside me, moving gingerly and with much wincing. We were crammed together between the bedrails, and I loved it. Once he was settled, he said, “So sorry I wasn’t there for you tonight, honey. Should have guessed Gonzo might be in it. He and Brock are tight.”
I rocked my head on the pillow. “You’re a cop, not a mind reader.”
“Mind reading would sure come in handy sometimes, though.”
My cheek throbbed when I smiled. I cupped the non-scraped up side of his face. “I’m so glad you’re okay. What happened? Did Gonzo hit you with his car?”
“Tried to. We’re still piecing it together from what I remember and what the guy I pulled over saw. All I knew was this car came out of nowhere headed the wrong way on one-oh-one. The guy I was writing a ticket for said the car approached at speed in the breakdown lane without its lights on. Was headed straight for the nose of his Jeep. The car swerved out at the last minute and angled back toward the front driver’s side panel of the Jeep, right where I was standing.
“Glenmore confirmed the description of the car. It was Gonzo’s. He thinks Gonzo drove by, saw me writing a ticket and pulled a U-ey. Don’t know why yet. Maybe this guy, Billy, they’ve got in custody at Newburgh PD will be able to shed some light on it. All I can think is Gonzo was pissed at me over what happened with Brock and drunk enough not to be thinking clearly. Heard he was after that money tonight. Must’ve driven straight to my place to bully you after trying to take me out of the equation.”
“Guess no one told him the money’s in the FBI’s custody now.”
“Guess not. Would have saved himself a gunshot wound to the chest if he’d just kept on driving tonight. Or better yet, if he hadn’t gotten behind the wheel after getting sloshed.”
“Have you heard anything? How is he?”
“In surgery. Don’t know yet. But you did the right thing. Don’t you worry about that, yeah?”
I nodded. The sick feeling was back, but I tried to ignore it. I had Cole beside me, and he was going to be okay. That was all that mattered. “So, what happened on one-oh-one? Did you jump out of the way or something?”
Cole blew out a breath. “Happened so fast. It looked like I was about to get ground to a pulp between the cars, so I dove over the hood of the Jeep and landed hard on the shoulder. Knocked myself out. Gonzo side-swiped the Jeep and drove away. Soon as he got untangled from the airbag, guy in the Jeep dialed nine-one-one.”
He huffed. “Woke up with the guy I just wrote a ticket for tucking his coat under my head and telling me I’d be okay. Told Stace to tear up that ticket when she gets into work tomorrow.”
“Generous of you.”
“I can be a nice guy when I want to be.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” I leaned in and touched my lips to his, so relieved he was safe now. Tonight could have been so much worse.
Cole kissed me lightly. “Sorry to say it, honey, but we’re not going to be able to head back to Philly Friday. Mind if we take a week to recover and we’ll get you back when I’m out of this sling?”
I smiled big and didn’t care that it hurt my face like crazy. “Hmm. Maybe we should wait another couple of weeks after that. I’m going to need you at full strength to help me pack and move.”
When I’d called Marybeth earlier today, she’d told me PHMC didn’t get the grant they were counting on for funding next April. She was going to wait until after the holidays to announce it but figured she’d give me a heads up since I was calling. The reduction in funding meant they needed to start tightening the belt now so things could keep running after the new fiscal year began. Since I was the newest hire, my position was first up on the chopping block. Marybeth had already distributed my clients to the three other counselors. She’d apologized about telling me over the phone but figured with everything else going on with me, I’d rather know sooner than later. She’d been right.
I loved working at PHMC, but while I’d been at Dad’s shop on Sunday, I’d called Stacey, and she’d put me in touch with her friend Rochelle, whom I’d met at the holiday party. Rochelle was starting up a transitional-housing shelter in Haverhill. At the party, she’d mentioned she was looking for full-time staff to hire on as soon as possible, including a counselor. I hadn’t known about PHMC’s budget cuts yet, but had set up an interview with Rochelle for the following Monday. After the altercation with Brock, I’d had to cancel the interview to make time for Glenmore’s questions at Newburgh PD. Then, after running into Tooley on Tuesday, I’d put off calling Rochelle to reschedule. I’d begun doubting whether I could really make Newburgh my home again. But after last night with Cole, I’d redoubled my determination to try.
As soon as I’d gotten off the phone with Marybeth this morning, I’d called Rochelle. She’d agreed to interview me next Monday. All day I’d been looking forward to Cole getting home from his double shift so I could surprise him with the news. Rochelle’s shelter wasn’t a sure thing, but it was an opportunity. There was a chance I could do what I loved and live in Newburgh, with Cole.
His eyes widened. “Help you move?”
“Yeah. Decided I can’t live without your awesome shower. Hope you don’t mind if your houseguest becomes a long-term roommate.”
His eyes crinkled. “Seriously?”
I nodded, grinning like an idiot. I probably made quite the sight with my swollen cheek and no makeup since I’d dressed in such a rush to go to the hospital. “Actually, it’s not your shower I can’t live without, though it is awesome. It’s you. I’ve been making plans all day to make it work because I love you, Cole. I want to be with you. In Newbur
gh.”
Cole’s mouth curved in the happiest smile I’d ever seen on his handsome face. “Might as well make it official, then. Soon as I’m cleared to drive, we’re going to the mall to pick out a diamond.”
“Are you proposing to me, Officer Oakley?”
“Not yet. Just telling you to be prepared.”
“Dad always believed in being prepared.” I sobered as I remembered the strange experience I’d had before going outside tonight. If I hadn’t gone back upstairs to get Cole’s .45, I hated to think what might have happened.
“Gripper had a lot of faults, but he was a smart man.”
“Yes. He was.”
“And he raised one hell of a daughter. Love you, baby.” He kissed me.
It didn’t matter that we were both banged up and lying on a hospital gurney. We were together, and we were going to stay that way. For a long, long time. Hopefully a lifetime.
* * * *
“Easy does it, honey.” Cole walked slowly by my side while I used my crutches to limp across the frozen grass toward Mom’s grave. It was a week after New Year’s. His shoulder had mended enough for him to drive, and my sprained knee was almost completely healed. Today would be my last day with the crutches. Cole still sported a patch of road rash on the left side of his face, but it didn’t detract from how handsome he was. Not one bit. He claimed the bruise on my right cheek didn’t make me any less beautiful either. I had my doubts, but then that was what concealer was for.
The cemetery in Shirley that housed Mom’s grave was set amidst rolling hills dotted with trees that looked bare and craggy this time of year but would be lush and green in the spring. A cold wind lifted my hair and the tails of the scarf Bernice had given me.
“Feels like a storm coming,” Cole said. He’d parked as close as he could to Mom’s plot, but we’d had to walk up a gentle rise and down a long row of graves. When we reached her headstone, he stooped to lay the roses I’d bought. “You want some time alone?” he asked, his breath puffing in the afternoon chill.