Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  I flip through the rest and they all list similar experience and qualifications. Some are former military, others former law enforcement. I come upon one for a young woman, Robin, who is a Krav Maga instructor. I pull her file and place her on the top of the stack. She’s around Kenny’s age and I think she would be perfect for Kenny’s primary guard.

  There’s a commotion downstairs, which tears Adam and me away from our discussion. Flashing a badge and pushing his way up the stairs is Philip – sopping wet from the pounding rain and clearly irate. “Are you crazy or just plain stupid?” he charges at me like a raging bull. “You’re putting my little sister’s life in jeopardy and I want to know why.”

  “I’m doing no such thing, Phil. If you’ll just sit down with us for a minute, Adam can go through the protocol with you. If he doesn’t have you convinced in less than ten minutes, we’ll do it your way.”

  He calms enough so that we can talk reasonably with him. Since the personal bodyguard applications are right in front of us, we sit back down and start there. Philip takes his time, carefully weeding through each one. I can’t help but notice he puts Jason and Robin right on the top of the stack. “I like these two. They’re both available immediately?”

  “Yup – I can get them here in less than twenty-four hours,” Adam assures him. “Wanna check out the state-of-the-art cameras and motion detectors we’re installing?”

  The three of us follow Adam as he walks us through some of the installations going on. Philip’s phone rings. Looking down at the image that pops up, he smiles and holds up a finger. “Hang on a minute, guys, it’s Kenny. I need to take this.”

  I look down at my watch, knowing that at this point, it’s going to be nearly impossible for me to make it to practice in time. And with the pounding rain, I may not make it at all.

  “Kenny, if you’re there answer me, dammit. This isn’t funny. Kensington? Kenny!” I see the color drain from his face.

  “What’s happening?” I demand to know. “Philip? You’re scaring the shit out of me. What. Is. Happening?”

  He turns to me and grunts, “Shut the fuck up and listen.” He turns on the speakerphone so we can all listen and my worst nightmare unfolds before me. Kensington is screaming madly.

  “You mother fucking, cock sucker, spineless worm, dickless, mindless, heartless, ball licking, fuckface prick!”

  My heart beats in my chest, pounding, banging, trying to get out as I listen to the violence that ensues.

  Crash. Whack. Crack. Moans, grunts, and petrified breathing.

  My mind is now consumed with getting to her. Quickly. Philip takes command immediately.

  “Adam – call the station. Get them to Kenny’s house now. There should be a cruiser nearby on patrol. Cole, keep her on the phone.” He pulls the keys from his pocket and heads for the door. “Let’s go!”

  I race to the hallway closet and nearly tear the door off the hinges, rushing to get to my lockbox. I quickly dial in the combination and remove my handgun. Adam and Philip’s eyes grow wide, but neither one of them questions me. I’ve traveled with a Glock since my days in the minors. Staying in seedy motels in sketchy parts of town made this necessary a long time ago. Reed helped me pick it out and made sure I knew how to use it.

  I climb into Philip’s car and he takes off like a bullet.

  “Baby, we’re on the way. I’m coming. Stay on the line with me.” I’m praying she can hear my voice as I cling to each one of Kenny’s sounds with a level of desperation I’ve never felt before. Each passing second that it takes to reach her is sheer agony.

  Agony turns into utter helplessness, hearing another tousle, listening to Kenny’s grunts and groans as she struggles. A loud thud cracks in my ear. “No! Kenny!” Everything around me stops – time, space, and forward motion.

  I grab a hold of the dashboard as Philip drives faster, weaving through the few cars out on the road in the rainstorm. The wipers do little to improve the conditions as rain pelts the windshield, obstructing our view. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, making it hard to keep my thoughts straight.

  I think we’re nearly there.

  If she can just hold on a little longer.

  Everything around me fades away when I hear the gunshot.

  “Kenny!” I scream.

  Philip turns onto her street and the car hydroplanes across the highway, slamming me into the door before he regains control of the vehicle.

  “Kenny? Oh God, baby. Please, no.” The sharp pain in my chest nearly takes my breath away.

  “Cole? Talk to me, what was that?”

  One word spills from my lips. “Gunshot.”

  “Fucker!” Philip grabs the two-way radio and calls into dispatch. “David Two to Dispatch. I have a ten-seventy-one in progress. Shots fired. Send back-up. Code two – no lights or sirens.” He turns to me. “We’re almost there. Stay out of my way. Do you understand? Do not leave this fucking car, Cole.”

  I can’t hear anything beyond the dead silence on the other end of the phone. Nothing.

  We pull up to the house and the front door is wide open and the window is broken. I jump out of the car and race around toward the front of the house. Philip’s arm comes swinging from out of nowhere, putting me into a chokehold against his car. “Calm the fuck down. You can’t just charge in there like that. You won’t do her any good if you’re dead!”

  I’ve never been this terrified.

  We’re the first to arrive. Quickly scanning the scene, I immediately spot a car I’ve never seen before parked in her driveway, partially hidden from view beneath a big oak tree. It’s an old sedan, dark blue, and the trunk is wide open. Philip spots it, too. Silently, we move closer and my heart stops. There’s a trail of blood and it leads directly to the back door. The rain has washed much of it away, but enough remains to draw a horrifying image.

  “What the fuck are we waiting for?” I demand to know. “She’s in there, Phil. I just know it. She’s alone with him. We can’t just stand here doing nothing. I’m going in.”

  “I know, man. I know.” Philip grabs my shirt in both hands and shakes, showing me his seriousness. “You need to pull your shit together, right now. You hear me? Pull. Your. Shit. Together.”

  He scans up and down the street, looking for the back up that has yet to arrive. “I’m going in through the back. You wait by the front door. Do NOT enter!” He pulls the slide back on his weapon, loading one round into the chamber. I follow suit, heart pounding.

  Hurrying to the front door, I pause to listen before entering. I hear a man talking to himself. No one answers.

  “No,” he mumbles adamantly. “This is all your fucking fault! All your fault, you fucking slut! If you just shut up and let me talk to him, I wouldn’t have to do this.” Several dull thuds accompany his grunts. It sounds as though he is kicking something. Muffled groans and a pained moan batter my brain, which I can only imagine are coming from Kenny.

  A shadow crosses back and forth behind the front window. I see the curtain move. He’s in the living room. There’s no sign of Philip.

  I have to draw him away from her. If there’s a scuffle, I don’t want her to get caught in the middle and injured any more. Standing just outside the door, I call to him. “Hey, you piece of shit. You still want to talk? I’m right here. Why don’t you leave her alone and face me like a man?”

  Silence. He stops moving. He stops talking.

  “Come on outside, you pathetic prick.”

  “Make them go away,” he orders.

  “Who?”

  “The cop cars that just pulled up. Make them go away and I’ll talk to you.”

  I turn around and see that several units have surrounded the house, turning my nightmare into a sickening reality. “I can’t do that, Paul. Things have gotten way out of hand. But if you come out, I promise no one will hurt you.”

  “Make. Them. Go. Away!” Paul orders. I can hear the cornered desperation in his voice.

  “Easy. All right? Just
tell me if Kenny is okay and I’ll tell them to back off. Work with me and we’ll settle this peacefully.”

  “I didn’t want this. I didn’t. Things just . . . make them leave.”

  They’re not going anywhere. That leaves me with no other option. “I’m coming in.”

  “No,” he screams. “You just want to come in so you can shoot me.”

  Several officers approach me, but I wave them off. “I just want to talk. That’s all. Just talk, okay? Put the gun down, let me come in, and we’ll straighten all this out. You have my word.”

  He laughs. “Your word? Your word is a joke. You take women that don’t belong to you. This one belongs to me. She was mine long before you came along. If you want to help, you can leave and take the police with you. And don’t come back.”

  I’m getting nowhere. If Kenny has been shot, her time may be running out.

  Another crash echoes from inside. I draw my weapon. Fuck waiting another goddamn second!

  I take a cautious step through the door into the front entry. My eyes dart around the room, looking for her. That’s when I notice a pair of bare feet and toes lying motionless on the floor.

  Kenny.

  Her body is hidden from my view. She lies behind the couch that divides the living room from the dining room. Blood smears the cushions, the drapes, and the pillows that are scattered across the room.

  All I can think about is getting to her while wanting to kill the son of a bitch who did this. I want him fucking dead.

  He steps out of the shadow, pointing a shaky gun at me, stopping me from getting any closer to her. “She isn’t dead, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Keeping his eyes focused on me, he steps closer and closer to her and further away from me. “But I could kill her. If you make me, I’ll do it.”

  I hold my hands up in surrender.

  “Put the gun down,” he orders.

  I do as he says. Slowly, I place the gun on the floor and kick it away towards the stairs, away from me, but even further away from him. I get a clearer picture of the rest of the house, and I see more trails of blood everywhere. What did he do to her?

  “Do you know how I felt seeing pictures of you with your filthy hands all over her? You need to pay for your mistakes.”

  He is out of his fucking mind. I have to say something to get him to change his course. “She will never forgive you, Paul. You’ll lose her forever.”

  “It will take time, but she’ll forget about you. And I’ll be there to make sure she does.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Philip silently approaching behind Paul from the kitchen. He motions for me to keep talking, so I do. “If you love her as much as you say you do,”

  “I do!” he shouts.

  “Then you’ll get her help. She’s hurt, Paul. She’s hurt badly.”

  “No! It’s a trick. You just want me to give up.”

  “If you let me talk to her, I’ll explain why we can’t be together. I’ll make sure she knows it’s over.”

  I can see him thinking about my offer. The house is deadly quiet, not a sound to be heard except the rain pounding on the windows.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, Philip’s wet shoes slip on the floor, alerting Paul to his presence.

  “You tricked me!” Paul shouts.

  Everything happens at once. In what seems like slow motion, I watch helplessly as Paul raises the tip of his gun and points it at me.

  Philip shouts back, “Police. Lower your weapon.”

  But it’s too late. A barrage of officers push their way in the front door. The distinct crack of gunfire pierces through all other sounds, sending a blaze of white-hot fire through my chest.

  Did that hit me? I try to move, but my legs collapse beneath me, sending me crashing to the ground. Blood seeps through my shirt, lots of warm, sticky red blood. None of this makes sense.

  More shots ring out and now it’s Paul who isn’t moving.

  Kenny.

  I try to get to my feet and get to her, but my legs refuse to hold my weight.

  She is so still.

  I fight through the chaos and crawl over to her side. Kenny’s face is pale and slack. Blood drips out of her nose and down her cheek.

  Please, God. No. “Aw, no. Baby . . . no.”

  I can’t breathe.

  Can’t find air.

  Nausea swirls in my empty stomach.

  I cradle her limp body in my arms. The lips I had kissed just a few hours ago are still and lifeless.

  “Kenny! Baby, please. Oh, God. Please. Please don’t leave me. No, baby. Wake up. Please, baby. Wake up.”

  She is so limp; so pale.

  The realization is too much. Without her, I am nothing.

  Gone.

  Empty.

  The pain is nearly unbearable. I can’t breathe. My heart shatters. Nothing will ever be the same.

  CHAPTER 39

  I WAKE UP TO A BLAZE OF SIRENS and the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life. I try to get up, but pairs of arms pin me down. I quickly piece together the images and sounds that surround me. Medical equipment, sirens, paramedics – I’m in an ambulance and I’m being rushed to the hospital.

  The young medic sticks a needle in my arm and hangs a bag of fluids above my head. I feel a tightness squeezing around my arm – they’re taking my blood pressure. The young woman beside him is calling the hospital and reading off a checklist of numbers and acronyms that are meaningless to me.

  Cold air wicks against my skin. A pair of scissors is now cutting away my clothes, leaving me exposed and completely vulnerable. Together, they roll me onto my side to remove the last vestiges of my clothing and I shriek from the pain that shoots up my left arm.

  I feel hands all over me, checking me from head to toe. She gets back on the radio, “Possible fracture of left ulna. Concussion and contusions apparent.”

  I feel so alone and frightened. And vulnerable. I’m tired of fighting. I have nothing left to give. I have no power left in me. Paul took it all, leaving me barren and defenseless. Tears dot the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to be brave anymore.

  “I’m cold.” My teeth are chattering. I’m relieved when someone covers me with a nice, thick blanket.

  “What happened?” I ask once I stop shivering.

  “You’ve been assaulted, miss. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

  Images of Paul flash through my mind’s eye.

  He had a gun.

  He shot at me.

  I feel my heart begin to race. “Where is he?”

  “I’m sorry I don’t know who you’re talking about,” one of the paramedics answers as he records my vital statistics.

  “Paul. Paul Marks. He broke into my house. He did this. How did I get here? Why can’t I remember anything?”

  “I’d say from the looks of things, you probably have a concussion. And I’m sorry, I don’t know who’s in the other ambulance.”

  I search my memory, but I cannot remember anything other than these few momentary flashes of clarity.

  My head hurts so much – the throbbing pain is unlike anything I’ve ever known. And the lights are so bright. Maybe if I just close my eyes, the pain will subside. If they would just leave me alone for a few minutes.

  I’m so tired. And my eyes are so heavy. It feels like a fog is rolling in, slowly swallowing me up and shutting out everything around me. I allow it to take me. I welcome the void.

  I’m jostled awake as the paramedic and his partner whisk me through the glass doors of the emergency room, where I am immediately rolled into a curtained room. Nurses and doctors descend like flies and I am swiftly moved from the stretcher to a hospital gurney.

  There is no privacy and no vanity in this place. Everyone takes turns touching me. I am poked, prodded, x-rayed, and MRI’d. I have a new I.V. stuck in the top of my right hand and a clip to measure something is slipped on my finger.

  I’ve had a rectal exam, a vaginal exam, stuck repeatedly with needles, and they’ve taken m
y blood pressure with that stupid automatic machine a dozen times. During the moments that I’m not being poked or quizzed, I allow myself to cry. I feel so alone; I just want to see Cole. I need him to hold me. But no one will tell me where he is.

  A doctor and a nurse enter my cubicle. The nurse is pushing a large cart into the room with her. “Ms. Harper, I’m Dr. Bartlett. I’m the attending on staff today.” He smiles as he writes something on a clipboard. “It appears you have a fractured ulna in your left forearm. You’re very lucky. It’s a simple fracture that should heal rather quickly.”

  I don’t feel lucky at all.

  “We have to set your arm and then we’ll be immobilizing it in a cast for six to eight weeks,” he explains.

  I watch as the nurse carefully measures out a vile of medicine into a syringe. She slowly injects into my I.V. line. “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Dilaudid,” she answers. “You’re going to want this when Dr. Bartlett resets the break.”

  “Oh,” I reply as the stress and tension of the past few hours slowly fade away. “Will it hurt a lot?”

  “Not anymore.”

  For the first time I smile. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. “I like this stuff. What did you call it . . . di-lau-don-t?”

  She grins. “That’s close enough.”

  Once again, I close my eyes and allow the nothingness to sweep over me. Only this time, it comes not as something dark and shadowy, but a light that bathes me in its warmth. I hear the voices. I see the figures all around me. But I feel separate from them. Disconnected. Peaceful.

  When I open my eyes again, the room is dark. Time has passed – but how much? It’s hard to tell. I feel heavy again, like I’m being weighed down by sandbags. I try to lift my arm, but it feels odd. Hey, it’s wrapped in a cast – a bright pink cast from my wrist to just above my elbow.

  Well, shit.

  The voices become louder and I think I recognize them. “Mom? Dad?”

  Quick as a flash, my parents are at my side, brushing away the hair stuck to my face and peppering me with kisses. “Oh, sweetheart. Thank God. Thank God.” My mother cries over me as my father gently consoles her.