by Byrne, Wendy
He shook his head. How could he get her to understand? “If you insist on stirring up even more trouble, feel free to call the police on your own.” He sighed. “But you have no idea what kind of hell my brother can cause.”
* * *
A sleepless night didn’t make Shane’s argument make any more sense. His idea that there was some giant conspiracy operating against him was sheer lunacy. The police were the good guys.
Patrick was not the enemy. Maybe he and Shane had a rocky past, but that had nothing to do with what happened to her last night.
Besides, her brothers were police officers. What would they think if they learned she had been a victim of a crime and didn’t report it?
More determined than ever, Gabriella dumped out the contents of her purse and searched for the card Patrick had slipped into her hand the previous night. Finally locating it, she opened up her cell and dialed the number.
The phone rang several times before voice mail picked up. “This is Detective Patrick O’Neil. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Patrick, this is Gabriella. I need to talk to you. I’ll call you back.” Just as she finished leaving the message, there was a knock at the door. Startled, she dropped her phone onto the wood floor.
Ohmigod, what if there was some kind of audio or video surveillance inside the apartment? Could Shane have wired the place for sound? Was everything she said being piped into the stereo of his car, or his cell, or his office, or all three simultaneously? Or was some of his paranoia rubbing off on her?
Gabriella jumped at the second knock. Convinced it was Shane stopping by to bodily throw her out of town, her voice shook as she answered. “Who is it?”
“Carissa.”
She sighed, knowing she was only marginally safer with Carissa. Her allegiance had been clear from the first day Gabriella had met her, but she had a hard time believing Shane had sent her to do his dirty work.
When she opened the door seconds later, Carissa stood on the other side. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have to ask you a favor.” It might have been some kind of elaborate trick, but the harried look on her face said otherwise.
“Sure. What is it?”
She walked inside, nervousness reflected in her frenetic movements. Normally Carissa was calm and matter-of-fact, even when all four lines on the phone were ringing simultaneously.
“I need to get in touch with Shane. He’s working on a case, and an emergency hearing on a motion for dismissal has just been scheduled for today at five. The defense lawyer, Vince Perry, needs Shane to testify about what he found. But Shane’s teaching, so he has his phone off. Is there any way you could take a cab to let him know? I’ve got to get to class, otherwise I’d go.”
“Teaching?” She couldn’t imagine him teaching anything except how to be grumpy twenty-four-seven.
Preoccupied, Carissa paced back and forth in the small apartment. “This never happens. Everyone knows Wednesday afternoons are sacred for Shane.” She took a deep breath, as if trying to find another way out of this puzzle. But in the end, she couldn’t. “He volunteers every Wednesday afternoon at one of the high schools.” Based on her move towards the door, it was pretty obvious she didn’t want to elaborate.
Any qualms Gabriella might have had were overridden by a serious case of curiosity. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.”
She took a quick shower and threw on a jean skirt and camisole top. After laying out her clothes for the evening in case she didn’t have a lot of time when she got back, she applied a minimum of makeup and made her way downstairs.
After getting the address from Carissa, she hailed a cab. The cabbie seemed reluctant after she gave him the address, but eventually acquiesced when she agreed to a twenty-dollar bonus for his troubles.
It took only twenty minutes or so to reach the school. The neighborhood was drastically different from the one where she’d been. The cab traveled a series of streets where men were hanging out on corners, holding paper bags in their hands likely filled with booze or crack pipes or God only knew what. She didn’t see any women or children, only desperate-looking men and boarded up storefronts.
She was a little nervous. Was this some kind of elaborate plot to drive her out of town by scaring her? “Are you sure you know where the school is?”
“Yeah, lady. That school is no place for sissies. I don’t set foot in this neighborhood once it gets dark. There’s a shooting in this area a couple of times a week. I’ll drop you off right in front. There should be guards inside the doors. I’ll wait until you get in before I leave. I promise.”
He pulled in front of a building that looked too old to be a school. Thirty or more worn cement steps led to an entrance that must have been grand at the time it was built.
Just as the cabbie had said, an armed guard stood inside the door. She bounded up the stairs as quickly as possible with the eerie sensation that somebody was chasing her. Even though nobody was, she was glad when the guard opened the door as soon as she reached the top.
“I need to find Shane O’Neil.” She was out of breath, more from nervousness than exertion.
The guard nodded. “He’s in the gym. Down that hall, and then turn right.” The man motioned with his hand as he spoke.
“Thanks.” A prickle of fear climbed up her spine as she made her way down the hallway. Maybe it was the cabbie’s stories that had her so uneasy. Maybe it was the unsettling silence grating on her nerves. Maybe it was simply the pervasive bad vibe.
She observed her surroundings. Lockers lined both sides of the hall and graffiti covered much of the available wall space. It definitely looked like a scary place to attend high school.
Students roamed the halls in groups of two or three, but none of them paid much attention as she meandered along. She turned right at the end of the hall and spotted a big door with the word GYMNASIUM scrawled across the top.
She peeked through the swinging door and spotted Shane. Hallelujah! She hadn’t been sent on some wild goose chase.
Surrounded by about ten or so black students, he was demonstrating what looked like a form of martial arts. Totally immersed in what he was doing, he didn’t notice her.
Since he was wearing shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, more of his body was exposed than she was accustomed to. His biceps were defined and sculpted, his legs long and muscled. She couldn’t help thinking that his body mirrored his persona—every inch of him, inside and out, was honed and sculpted to perfection. Yet he kept others at a distance. For a fleeting few seconds, she couldn’t help wondering why.
When some of the students pointed at her, he glanced her way then returned his attention back to the students. “Marcus, take over the group. Practice your roundhouse kicks. I’ll be back in a minute.” With a puzzled look on his face, he came towards her. “What’s wrong?”
“Carissa needed to get in touch with you. Something about an emergency court hearing today at five for a lawyer named Vince Perry. She left you a message on your cell but was afraid you wouldn’t retrieve it in time.”
He nodded, his face inching into a half smile. “I guess you saw the real city on your ride over.”
His comment caught her off guard. His kindness wasn’t what she expected, especially after their disagreement last night. “Miami has its bad areas, too. Every big city does. Mix oppression with lack of money and opportunity and something bad is going to happen.”
“Did your cabbie stay to take you back?”
“Are you kidding? I barely got him to bring me here in the first place.”
He shook his head. “If you don’t mind sticking around, I’ll take you back.”
For lack of anything better to do, she walked with him towards the group of students. One of the boys spoke. “Is this your woman, Mr. O’Neil?”
“No.” Shane answered quickly, as if the idea were too absurd to enter his mind. “This is Ms. Santos.”
“Do you know martial arts?” one of t
he girls asked.
She shook her head. “No.” Why did she suddenly feel inadequate? “I’m a singer.” Somehow it sounded more insignificant than usual.
“I sing in the church choir. But getting paid for it is a whole different story. I’m going to try out for American Idol when they come back into town.”
“Maybe when Mr. O’Neil is here teaching us, you could teach kids who want to sing,” one of the girls suggested.
“I’ll only be around for a month.” She glanced at Shane, who remained silent. “Less than a month now.”
“If you’re not Mr. O’Neil’s lady, maybe you’d consider going out with me.” The boy had the swagger of a player in the body of an adolescent. When his body grew into his bravado, no doubt he’d be a lady-killer.
“If only you were ten years older.” She gave him her most flirtatious smile.
“That’s okay, I like older women.” If nothing else, he was persistent.
“Enough flirting, Terrell. Let’s get back to practice.” Shane said.
Seeing Shane like this was incredibly sexy. Sure, she’d known the guy was in good shape, but she’d been so focused on his in-your-face obnoxiousness it was hard to see anything else. But this was different.
The way he worked with the kids showed another side to him. He paid attention to them, and they looked at him as if he were some kind of god. Obviously he was far more complex than she’d initially thought. Suddenly she felt superficial and woefully inadequate.
“I’m going to wrap things up a few minutes early. I have some business to attend to.” Shane opened a gym bag and pulled out a t-shirt. In one quick move, he replaced the t-shirt he was wearing with the other. “I’ll be back next Wednesday. But in the meantime—”
In unison they spoke. “No drugs, no alcohol, no junk food, and no gang-banging.”
For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed to have a real smile on his face. “I think you’ve got it.”
She walked with him as he left the gym and went by way of a side door. “How long have you been coming here?”
“Every Wednesday for about a year. Several of us work together year ’round to give the kids something to focus on. Let’s face it, none of these kids could afford to take martial arts classes.”
“How did you start?”
“I met the principal while I was volunteering at a youth shelter. She is committed to the kids, and is constantly on the lookout for volunteer mentors to impact their lives in a meaningful way.” He hit the remote for his car, threw his gym bag in the trunk, and then opened her door. “We worked out a reward system to make the kids eligible to participate. So far it’s been working.”
She settled into the passenger seat, hooking up her seat belt. “A kind of pre-screening process?”
“Absolutely. The kids in my class are attending school regularly, they have at least a B average, they aren’t in trouble with the law, and don’t have a gang affiliation. It goes without saying if they use what I’ve taught them as a means to intimidate, they’re out immediately.”
“Has that been a problem?”
“A couple of times. But nothing I couldn’t handle.”
It was becoming increasingly clear to her that there wasn’t a lot Shane couldn’t handle. Give her a broken nail and a bad hair day and she was in a dither. She wished she could muster up the confidence to tackle life’s curves. Give her a quiz on the latest fashion trends or how to accessorize and she was golden. Anything more complex than that and she was at a loss.
“Are you going—” Her words were cut off when the back window of the car suddenly shattered, sprinkling glass throughout the interior.
Bits adhered to her skirt and dusted her bare arms. Tiny shards dotted her hair. Panic made her hands shake and her stomach twist.
He pushed on the top of her head. “Get down.”
She had no intention of arguing. Sliding down in the seat as far as she could go, she managed to squeak. “Was that a bullet?”
Nodding, he negotiated his way through the streets while she kept her lanky body squeezed as close to the floor as possible. She tried not to dwell on the possibility that whoever shot at them was now following close behind.
“Stray gunfire. Happens sometimes in this neighborhood.”
Shane didn’t seem fazed. He acted as if this kind of thing happened every day.
Crouched on the floor like the chicken she was, her heart was rat-a-tat-tatting in her chest, likely to explode any minute, and she was dangerously close to hyperventilating. “I…” The words couldn’t seem to make their way from her brain to her mouth in any logical sequence.
“Are you okay?”
She tried to smile, but suspected she looked like a wild-eyed idiot. Trying to soothe the raging fear inside, she began to hum, like a lunatic. “Music,” she managed to stutter, even though she was sure he thought she was halfway past crazy.
He cranked up the stereo. As the soothing sounds of Aretha Franklin filled the car, she felt herself begin to relax.
“You can get up now. It’s safe. We’re on the expressway.” He reached out his hand to help her slide back into the seat. “You don’t look so good. You didn’t get hit by glass, did you?”
Somehow she managed to shake her head, even though her whole body seemed to be buzzing from the inside out.
CHAPTER SIX
Shane still couldn’t believe somebody had the balls to shoot at him. And it really pissed him off that it put Gabriella at risk. While his brother hated him, he didn’t see Patrick making this kind of play.
Part of him wanted to check out the neighborhood to see where the shot came from. The other part knew he couldn’t do that with her in the car. Instead, he sped through the side streets, finally breathing more easily once they got onto the expressway.
Mentally, he clicked through his current caseload. Except for the case he was about to testify on, nothing too intense—a couple of divorce cases, a missing persons, an embezzlement scenario.
He glanced over at Gabriella and fresh guilt flashed through him. “The neighborhood isn’t the best, but during the day it’s usually safe.” He touched her hand with his. Her skin had taken an ashen tone.
“Except today.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Are we going to the police station?”
He glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I need to get to court. I’ll go later.” Just thinking about going into the station and filing a report made him tense. Being there brought up way too many memories, all of them bad.
“Did this ever…?” She didn’t finish, instead weaving her fingers into his.
Her touch felt good. It had been a very long time since he’d touched somebody and hadn’t been naked. “Not this close.” He glanced at her and smiled.
As the music of Buddy Guy filled the car, she relaxed into the seat and closed her eyes. “I swear, music runs through my veins instead of blood. When I’m nervous, it makes me calm; when I’m happy it makes me happier; when I’m sad it gives me a sense of peace. It’s almost like I need music to breathe.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I know it makes no sense, but it’s the only way I have of explaining how I feel.”
“I just carry a really big gun. That gives me peace.” He smirked.
She laughed and squeezed his hand. Something about the way she did that made him remember good feelings from the past. He shook them off.
“Once we’re downtown, I’ll get a cab to take you back to the apartment.”
She shook her head. “No way. I’ll go with you to court.”
Tactical error. One glance told him how scared she remained. Even though it was his idea of pure hell, he knew being inside that courthouse would help temper her fear. “If you’re sure.”
* * *
Gabriella was feeling downright mellow by the time he pulled into a parking garage ten minutes later. After going through security, they went up in the elevators to the fifth floor. Shane went into the bathroom to change into a shirt and slacks. A
s soon as he came out, a man looking to be in his late fifties and wearing a slightly rumpled suit greeted Shane with a robust handshake.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” The man glanced in her direction.
Shane made the introductions. “Gabriella Santos, Vince Perry.”
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” The man had a nice smile and welcoming demeanor. To be honest, though, it was the fact that they were now surrounded by men and women wearing guns and sworn to protect that made her feel a whole lot better.
“Same here.”
Shane motioned toward her and smiled. “I almost didn’t make it. If Gabriella hadn’t come to get me, I wouldn’t have known until it was too late.”
“Quite a coincidence they finally get around to hearing my motion this late in the day with virtually no notice.” Vince shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever dirty tricks they’re trying to pull, you made it here. The judge will be calling the case in a few minutes. But I’ve got to tell you, Tony’s been acting kind of weird, like something’s bothering him, but he won’t talk.” His mouth pulled into a tight grimace, as if he wanted to say more. “I’ve got the motion prepared, but I’ll need your testimony about the alibi witness if the judge asks for it.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
The bailiff came out to call the case and Shane ushered her inside. She sat in one of the seats towards the back while Shane moved in close to the defense table. A handful of other people sat in the courtroom. The young man in the orange jumpsuit sitting at the table with Vince was obviously the defendant, Tony Marcos. A female attorney was at the opposite table, and a few spectators were scattered in seats behind the rails.
Judging by the hushed silence and angry expressions, almost everyone knew Shane. And they weren’t happy about his arrival. There was a definite vibe in the air that hovered somewhere between bad and horribly bad.
The state’s attorney looked really angry. Gabriella couldn’t tell if it was due to the woman’s bad choice of wardrobe or frustration with the case. Even a blind man could tell the woman was having a ‘What Not to Wear’ moment.