The Last Guy

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  “Vicky,” I say softly. “How much money have these guys, or this guy stolen from any one victim?”

  “Not much,” she says, as if she’s catching on to what I’m saying. “I think the most they got was fifty dollars from the little granny Saturday night.”

  The mayor is saying his final words, and everyone’s on their feet. My eyes are on Skinny, who’s glancing toward the parking garage and back to our group.

  “He’s not doing it for the money,” I say. “We’re going to be here a bit longer.”

  “Rebecca!” Vicky shouts. “I need you to do the tag.”

  “Trust me, Vicks. Pitch it to Matt!”

  The reporters move toward their respective photographers, but I signal Kevin to come with me. He frowns. Still, we’ve worked together long enough that he makes his way around the perimeter of bodies. I’m slowly drifting toward the parking garage, keeping my guy in sight.

  “What’s happening, Becks?” Vicky is still in my ear, and I decide to just say it.

  “I think he’s here. I don’t know for sure, but I’ve spotted a suspicious kid keeping his eye on everything. He’s headed toward the parking garage now.”

  “No way, Rebecca! It’s too dangerous.”

  Her voice is loud, and I know the anchors can hear her as well as I can. She’s in all our ears during the shows.

  “What’s going on?” Cade’s deep voice in my ear surprises me.

  “Cade!” I whisper. “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing?” His stern tone sends a simmer through my stomach.

  “I’ve got him, Cade, I just know it.”

  “Do not follow that guy, Stone. Do you hear me?”

  “Settle down. Kevin’s with me.”

  “Stone!”

  I pull the earpiece out of my ear and stick it in my pocket just as I spot my doughy partner emerging from the bodies near the entrance to the garage. Our target has already disappeared into the stairwell. My chest is tight, but that flutter is in my stomach. I know we’re onto something big.

  “What’s happening?” Kevin meets me, and I motion to the metal door.

  “A kid in a gray hoodie and jeans just went through that door. I want to follow him.”

  Kevin’s face scrunches. “A kid in a hoodie? Why?”

  “I can’t explain it, but I have a feeling. What if the grabber lives in the parking garage? What if he’s in there right now, waiting for his next victim?”

  “Why would he live in a stairwell?”

  “I don’t know! Desperate people do crazy things. Maybe he’s homeless.”

  Waiting in the courtyard, I try to think of the best plan of action. I don’t want to scare him off. I want to do what he does—wait until everyone is gone and bust him before he hurts another old lady.

  “These are petty thefts, only enough to last a few days. He’s unarmed in the police reports . . .”

  “Who’s to say he hasn’t armed himself? Maybe he’s working up to really hurting someone.”

  “Don’t be a coward, Kevin.”

  The parking garage is shadowy and smells like gasoline and urine. The LED sign at the entrance says the first and second levels are full, most likely thanks to the press conference. Mondays are typically slow shopping days.

  “Is there another way up to the third level?” I whisper, walking toward the back of the garage. “We need to find a place to hide and wait.”

  “Hide? I’ve got to get back to the station so I can prep this for ten.”

  “Vicky can prep it for ten,” I snap, hoping I’m not giving Marv the third strike he needs to fire me.

  My heels click on the concrete, and I’m walking fast. Kevin is huffing and puffing beside me. I look down at my watch. It’s six forty, and the news has wrapped. It’s also around the time our grabber loves to strike.

  Holding the slam-bar, I ease the metal door open and glance up the concrete stairs. “Empty,” I whisper. “Be quiet.”

  A knot is in my throat. I swallow it away. My chest is tight, but I carefully go up the block of stairs. My palms are sweaty. I’m literally shaking when Kevin’s phone goes off, and I swear to God I jump out of my skin.

  “Shut that thing off!” I hiss.

  “Hello?” Kevin is on the line with someone. “Yeah . . . Yeah, we’re still here. Sorry, I had my earpiece off for a bit. Uh, yeah, I don’t think she’s going to wait . . .”

  “Who is it?” I cut my eyes at him. My breath is coming fast, and all I can think is we’re losing time.

  “Marv. He’s been trying to reach us. He says Cade left a few minutes ago to come down here. Maybe we should wait?”

  I don’t have time to wait. My big story could be over before it even starts. I walk faster and we’re halfway between the second and third level when I hear a scream.

  Shit! I was right!

  “Kevin! MOVE!” I shout, running up the remaining steps and bursting through the metal door.

  Cade

  I FINISH THE sports report and toss my earpiece on the anchor desk. Stone’s ignoring me. A tingle of worry zips up my spine as I picture her being a detective, lurking around darkened parking garages. My gut’s been churning since the moment she said she saw a suspicious character at the scene and now she’s gone off halfcocked?

  All for a fucking news story.

  My eyes land on Marv. I blame him for this shit. She wants to impress him for the weekend anchor position—that someone else is going to get.

  “What’s going on?” Marv asks as I stalk from the set and gather my things. “Is she following someone at the press conference? Does she think it’s the mugger?” He’s practically rubbing his hands together in glee as I give him a death glare.

  “She could be in danger,” I snap.

  He taps his headpiece. “Rebecca? You there?” When he doesn’t get a response, he shrugs. “No reply, but she’s probably fine. I’ll keep trying.”

  Fuck fine!

  I want to be sure and the only way to do that is to get myself down there.

  Once I get to my car, I drive like a man possessed, my tires squealing on the pavement as I run two red lights.

  I park on the curb next to the garage, assessing the scene. The mayor is shaking hands with local businessmen and most of the reporters have gone except for one station. I search the crowd for Stone and when I don’t see her, I jog to the garage. I’ve just opened the steel door to climb the stairs when I hear a scream.

  Taking the steps three at a time, I listen, trying to pinpoint where the yelling is coming from. The sounds get louder as I reach the third floor. I burst out of the metal door, my chest heaving from the sprint, but it’s nothing compared to the way I feel seeing Stone tangled up with a young man with stringy hair and dingy jeans.

  He’s wearing a ripped gray hoodie, and an older lady with white hair is crying as she huddles in a corner next to a concrete beam. Kevin hovers behind Stone, playing defense to keep the guy blocked between two cars while balancing his small Avid camera on his shoulder, recording everything.

  My first instinct is to yell her name and tell her to get away, but I don’t. First, there’s no time, and second, I don’t think she’d listen.

  “Call the cops! Now!” I bark at the lady as I rush toward Stone who’s currently grabbing at a black bag the guy is clutching close to his chest. It must belong to the old lady.

  “Give . . . it . . . back!” Stone yanks on the purse as she and the mugger do a back and forth. The straps break and the contents of the bag go flying.

  I’ve reached them and once the young guy takes stock of me, he freezes. Yeah, that’s right. I’m here to kick your goddamn ass.

  With a grunt, he shoves a fiery Stone to the ground and takes off running.

  I briefly make sure she’s fine and dart after him. “Stay here,” I yell in her direction as I fly by.

  The young man scuttles away, careening and bumping into vehicles as he heads to the EXIT sign over the stairwell. I gain on him, notic
ing a slight hitch in his gait.

  Maybe it will slow him down. He can’t outrun me, I tell myself. Even with my knee injury, I’m still badass—but my Tom Ford slacks and loafers are slowing me down.

  His hand slips on the metal bar and it’s just enough time for me to reach out and snatch the hood on the back of his shirt. I jerk him backwards. A strangled noised comes from his throat as the fabric holds him in place. His hand slips off the door as he simultaneously flips around and launches himself at me. We go to the ground, and he jabs his fist toward my stomach and groin, which is about all he can reach.

  I avoid the punches and hurtle to my feet.

  Panting, he doesn’t miss a beat, coming up with me and flinging himself in my direction.

  He’s wiry and thin, but quicker than I’d anticipated.

  A flurry of footsteps and raised voices penetrate my brain, and I presume it’s Stone, making me all the more determined to finish this off.

  His face twists when I grab his right arm to hold him still. “It’s over,” I bite out. “Give it up.”

  He grunts, a fine sheen of sweat on his face when his left fist comes out of nowhere and connects with my chest. Oomph. It’s a weak shot, but it takes my breath. I dodge the next one, itching to pound into him but restraining myself. If he had a weapon, I’d go for it, but he doesn’t appear to.

  Stone shows up in my peripheral and that panicked feeling sets in again.

  If anything had happened to her . . .

  “Get out of here and call the damn cops!” I bark.

  She stares at me, eyes wide as she clutches the purse to her chest. It’s okay, I want to tell her. I’m going to take care of this.

  But just then his fist connects with my jaw and my head snaps back.

  He’s landed a punch.

  Sonofamotherfuckingbitch.

  Enough.

  I’d been playing before.

  I turn, grab him by both hands, and twist them behind his back until he screams out in pain. Using my knees on his backside, I maneuver him to the ground as I clench his wrists. He whimpers and wiggles his legs, but gets nowhere. With my chest heaving, I sit on him.

  Hell, it’s all I can do until the cops get here.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Stone. My eyes rake over her, doing a mental check, looking for injuries. If she has so much as has a scratch on her . . . I’m going to pummel him.

  She swallows, her throat working. “I’m fine. Kevin called the cops.”

  For the first time, I notice Kevin is next to her, camera still in his hand.

  I glare at him. Idiot.

  But Stone’s ready. She shoots a look at Kevin, gets in the frame, and starts talking. Her blonde hair is a mess, but damn if her shirt isn’t secure and her skirt straight.

  She’s talking about the incident as the mugger twists under me. I tighten my grip and keep my focus on him. Thankfully, the door from the stairwell bursts open and a parade of cops spills out and runs our way.

  “ . . . my cameraman Kevin and I caught the suspect, who we can only assume to be the GreenStreet Grabber, in another attempt to attack an elderly woman.” She gets a serious look on her face, leveling her eyes at the camera, a determined glint there. “It was during the mayor’s press conference when I noticed a suspicious character headed toward the parking garage, the same location as the last three attacks, and while it was unclear if this man was the Grabber, it was clear something was amiss. We kept our eyes on him.” She is conveniently omitting the dangerous stalking vigilante stunt. “We heard screams and saw him accosting an elderly woman. We intervened on her behalf, and I managed to retrieve her purse from him before he ran.” She holds up the tattered bag like a trophy. “Our very own sportscaster Cade Hill chased him down. Thank goodness, he’s a former NFL superstar and athlete.”

  Her eyes bounce to the police as they swarm, telling her and Kevin to step back. “As you can see, law enforcement is on the scene. We’ll have all the latest at ten. I’m Rebecca Fieldstone with KHOT 5, the station that goes beyond reporting to keep you safe.”

  I stand as the cops sweep in and take the suspect from me, putting him in cuffs. He glares at me and mutters curses as the men separate us.

  Grimacing, I step back and let them do their job. One of the cops pulls Stone, Kevin, and me to the side while another escorts the older lady to a quiet corner.

  My shirt is ripped at the collar from the scuffle, my pants have a tear on the left side and I’ve lost a shoe. My adrenaline is ramped up so tight I’m ready to snap. With a clenched jaw, I send a narrowed gaze at Stone. When I get her alone, I don’t know if I’m going to yell until my voice is raw or fuck her silly. Or both.

  A few hours later, we’re sitting at a rowdy sports bar near the station. Earlier, we’d finished our interview with the police and had headed to the news station to piece together the footage Kevin shot along with some B-roll from earlier in the day for the ten o’clock news.

  Stone is next to me on a stool, Kevin has gone to the bathroom—he’s still shell-shocked—and Trent’s on the other side of me buying drinks for the whole place. Apparently Dad has officially hired him as the liaison for the school, and he’s feeling gifty.

  I stare at Stone, my gaze heavy-lidded, as she tosses back another shot of Fireball my brother has pushed at her. She’s giddy with leftover excitement.

  “Another round for the famous heroes here,” Trent calls to the bartender as he gestures toward Stone and me. “They saved lives today, people!”

  “Here, here,” some of the crowd murmurs, having already heard the story from Stone.

  Glasses clink as we do another toast and Stone grins at me over the rim of her cinnamon-flavored gasoline. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me anymore.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “You’re going to make it up to me later.”

  The thing is I had been pissed at her for taking on the mugger, but once I got her alone in the stairwell, all I’d wanted to do was put my mark on her—like a caveman.

  So I had.

  I’d taken her fucking pouty mouth with punishing kisses that had receded and turned soft when she moaned and pressed closer. I have no defenses when it comes to her—and I don’t even understand it.

  She blushes and settles her hand on the bar. Being stealthy, I rest my hand alongside hers so that we’re touching but just barely. Still, it’s enough to make every hair on my body, every cell in my body, every muscle I have stand at attention.

  The heat from her hand is miniscule but enough to make me hyperaware that my need for her is growing. The attraction between us is thick, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted any female in my life.

  Kevin wobbles back from the restroom and stands behind Stone. I move my hand that’s happy near Stone and use it to rub the back of my neck. I wonder how much longer I can pretend we’re not together.

  Does it really matter now that Marv’s going to move her to production?

  And that thought ramps me up.

  I hadn’t told Stone about Marv’s decision.

  How can I?

  As if she senses a change in my emotions, she stops talking to Kevin, her eyes drifting to me.

  I look at Trent to avoid them.

  “Dude. You look like something your cat killed and dragged home,” Trent says, pointing at my torn shirt and pants.

  “You be a hero next time,” I counter.

  “I like this look on you,” Stone says. She adjusts the collar of my shirt, her fingers conveniently brushing at the sliver of bare chest that’s visible. Her greedy gaze is all over me, and Neanderthal that I am, I puff out my chest even more. She leans in to brush at a speck of dirt I’d missed earlier at the station, and I catch her sweet scent.

  Kevin claps me on the shoulder and Stone eases back.

  “Thank you, man. If you hadn’t shown up . . . I don’t know what would have happened.”

  He’s thanked me at least a hundred times.

  “No problem. Next time, though, save the cri
minals for the police. Got it?” My eyes land on Stone when I utter those last words.

  Her lips twitch at my comment.

  There’ll be no telling this woman what to do. Ever. And I know it.

  I hear the music of KHOT and yell over the crowd for the barman to turn up the TV. He does and we watch as Matt and Lorie do the lead story. Of course it’s the footage Kevin shot.

  Trent blows a piercing whistle. “Pay attention, everybody! My brother and Stone are on the news!”

  The place gets quiet as the screen shows me sitting on the mugger. Stone gets a resounding cheer when she shows the purse she saved.

  “Go, Rebecca!” someone in the crowd calls and she glows.

  Later, Trent and Kevin are in an animated discussion over their favorite Slurpee flavor, so I lean over to Stone. “Do you have any fucking idea how gorgeous you are up there on that big screen?”

  She bites her lip. “It was crazy, wasn’t it? At least I kept my shirt on.”

  I laugh. “My mom would say you’re crazier than a sack full of rattlesnakes.”

  “I’m not a snake!” She giggles.

  “How about a sack full of kittens?”

  She smiles sheepishly. “That’s better. Makes me think of Killer. She’d never hurt me.”

  Killer makes me think of my penthouse, and I’m picturing Stone spread out on my bed like a naked feast.

  Her expression goes serious as she cups my cheek and levels me with those emerald eyes. She inhales a deep breath. “Truly, Cade, I am sorry for worrying you.” Emotion fills her gaze, and she blinks. “Thank you for tonight. You very well may have gotten me that anchor job.”

  The anchor job.

  I close my eyes. Fuck.

  Forget that. Focus on her.

  So, in front of everyone at the bar, I lean in and take her lips. Her mouth is soft and clings to mine as our tongues tangle together.

  I pull back, and she’s breathing hard.

  Kevin is staring at us with wide eyes and Trent is snorting.

  I tug her up from her seat, slap a few hundreds on the bar (just in case Trent needs help paying the tab), and without a word to anyone else, we leave.

  Prickly, stubborn Rebecca Fieldstone is mine tonight.