When the Storm Ends

by Jillian Anselmi

  “The FBI?”

  “Between your kidnappin’ and Cole’s murder, this case has become federal, but I’m gonna try my hardest to keep it in my jurisdiction.”

  “What about my apartment?”

  “You’re stayin’ with me for the foreseeable future and a patrol car will tail us wherever we go. I’ll take you there now so you can pack up a few things. Whatever you don’t grab, I’ll have someone go back and get later.”

  “I need to call Cole’s parents,” I blurt out.

  “No, I’ll take care of that. No one knows you’re here, remember?” Turning, he places his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s go do something fun, something to take your mind off this. The last thing I want is you dwellin’ inside your head. Nothin’ good will come of that.”

  “But, Brody—”

  “No buts. I have an idea I think you’ll like.” Opening the passenger door for me, Brody helps me in the truck.

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “No.”

  AS SOON AS we get back to my apartment, Brody becomes my shadow. I can’t move two feet without him following. I walk into my bedroom, Brody right behind me. He’s trying to hide it, but I know he’s worried. His expression is dulled, his eyes not showing that spark I love. Even though he has a fake smile plastered across his lips, there’s a fine line between his brows and his jaw is clenched.

  Throwing my clothes into a duffel bag, we leave just as quickly as we came. I brought nothing with me but what’s in this bag and everything else is replaceable. Opening the truck door for me, he boosts me up.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as he gets in the driver’s side.

  “Back to my place first. You need to change.”

  “Still won’t tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fine, but it better be fun.”

  “Don’t worry, it will be,” he chuckles as we drive to his house.

  On our way, Brody’s eyes flicker back and forth from the rearview mirror to the road ahead. “What’s wrong?” I demand.

  “I think someone’s followin’ us.” Brody turns down a side street and sure enough, a black Dodge Ram two lengths behind us makes the same turn. “Could be nothin’,” he murmurs as he makes another turn. The Dodge, making the same turn, picks up speed.

  “Brody?” I ask, spinning my gold band.

  “Hold on,” he cautions as he makes a sharp left, then floors it, but the Dodge is hot on our tail. “Fuck,” he utters.

  “What are we gonna do?” I scream in a panic.

  “Try to outrun them and head back toward the precinct.” Brody zips past cars, the Dodge not far behind. He takes a left, then a quick right down a dirt road. The Dodge passes the road, then backs up to continue pursuit. Continuing his sequence of alternating turns, we find ourselves on a side street. Pulling up a driveway, he maneuvers the truck behind someone’s garage and parks on an angle so he can see the road through his side mirror. Turning off the truck, he leans past me to the glove box and takes out his pistol.

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know. I’m hopin’ I don’t find out in the next few minutes.” Sitting back, he watches the mirror. Within a few minutes, the black Ram drives by.

  “Are they gone?” I whisper.

  “I think so, but I’m gonna wait a few minutes just to be sure.” When Brody feels safe, he puts the truck in gear and rolls down the driveway. Glancing in both directions, he turns the opposite direction the Dodge had gone. “We’re close to my place. Once we’re there, I think we’ll stay put. Sorry, I don’t think we’re gonna be able to go anywhere today.”

  “I’m okay with that,” I say, nodding my head in agreement.

  Picking up his cell, he dials. “Travis, it’s me. Send a patrol over to my place. I just shook a tail loose.” He listens for a minute, then says, “Black Dodge Ram, Texas plates, couldn’t get the numbers.” Brody looks over at me and smiles, but it’s forced. “Yeah, that’s fine. I want eyes on her twenty-four seven.”

  I stare out the window as his conversation continues. Can this day get any worse? If Armond killed Cole in the middle of the day, in the middle of a busy street, what’s to stop him from killing me—or worse, Brody?

  “Hey, you with me?” Brody murmurs, bringing me back to reality.

  “I’m here,” I answer, still staring out the window.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, I think it’s time to put you in protective custody.”

  I whip my head around. “No! Please don’t leave me. I don’t know who else to trust,” I beg. I can’t be with strangers, he’s the only one who makes me feel safe.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m leavin’ you. I’ll just be there with you.”

  “But, Brody—”

  “Lani,” he pleads, “I can’t protect you in the way you need.”

  Pulling into his driveway, he scans the area before opening the door. I don’t wait for him to come around like I usually do and jump out, running to the front door. Once I’m inside the house, I feel safe. I’m just not sure for how long.

  BRODY LEAVES TO meet Cole’s parents at the morgue, who took the first flight available. As much as I wanted to go, it was probably for the best I stayed here. It’s been twenty-four hours since the mysterious truck followed us and I’m still a little jumpy. At least Brody made sure the best of the best were stationed outside his house.

  Fuck, I haven’t spoken to Taryn in days. Pulling my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, I dial her.

  “Hello, stranger,” she answers.

  “There is so much I need to tell you,” I sigh.

  “Oh no. What happened?”

  I don’t know how to explain everything, so I just blurt out, “Cole’s dead.” Silence. I don’t even hear her breathing. “Taryn?”

  “Dead?” she whispers. “What do you mean dead. Who told you?”

  “He was here.”

  “Holy shit! How did he know how to find you?”

  “He overheard you and Dominic talking,” I mutter.

  “That motherfucker! If he weren’t dead—”

  “I know.”

  “Wait. What happened?”

  “I don’t really know. He was found shot numerous times. I saw his cold, dead body lying in the street.” Images of Cole lying there cloud my vision. Pushing them out of my mind, I focus on the positives.

  “Oh, Delani. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

  “Me too. Brody’s at the morgue now. He’s meeting Cole’s parents.”

  “Oh God. Poor Brody.”

  “Yeah. I tried to tell him they can be a handful, but you know how boys always think they know better.” Cole’s parents are well-to-do snobs, who will be in complete denial about Cole’s drug dealings. In their eyes, Cole could do no wrong. Maybe that was part of the problem. Brody’s in for a rough time.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am now. Brody and I were also followed yesterday. Like, a car chase.”

  “Jesus, Lani! I sent you there so you’d be safe. Do I need to come down there and kick some douchebag’s ass?”

  Chuckling, I say, “No, I’m good. There is good news, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “I think I’m falling for the cowboy cop.”

  “Shut up! Really?”

  “He’s fucking hot, and an incredible kisser,” I say, giggling.

  “Delani!” she admonishes.

  “Once I got past his obnoxious behavior, I found he’s really sweet.”

  “Yeah, but he lives there, and you live here,” she cautions. That’s a bridge I haven’t wanted to cross. Maybe Cole’s parents aren’t the only ones living in the land of denial.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I whine into the receiver. “I miss you!”

  “I miss you too. Are you coming home soon?”

  “I’m not sure. I think they’re getting close to finding Armond. They’ve enlisted the FBI’s help.”

  �
�Oh shit.”

  “Yeah, twenty-four hour surveillance for me. I can’t do anything without someone watching. It kinda sucks.”

  “As long as you’re safe, I’m glad they’re there.”

  “I guess I am too. Just don’t tell Brody I said that.” The front door clicks open. “Shit, he’s back. I’ve gotta go.”

  “Love you, Delani!”

  “Love you too. I’ll call back soon.” Turning, I see a beaten Brody walk through the kitchen. His expression is dulled, his eyes drooping. “You okay?”

  “I thought you were pullin’ my leg this mornin’,” he sighs, sitting on the couch. “Cole’s parents were everythin’ you warned me ‘bout and more.”

  “What happened?” I ask, pouring myself a glass of wine.

  “Well, they blamed you for starters,” he says as he kicks off his boots.

  “I’m not all that surprised, but how do they know I’m here?”

  “They don’t. I’m not goin’ into details, but man, they don’t like you.”

  “Yeah. We never got along,” I acknowledge, taking a sip.

  “Anyway, you were right. They’re in complete denial. They think it was a ‘wrong place, wrong time’ scenario and he was involved in a random drive by.”

  “You get many of those around here?”

  “No.” Kicking his legs up on the couch, Brody folds his hands behind his head and lays down.

  “What else did they say?” Picking up his feet, I scoot under them and sit, placing his heels on my thighs.

  “Nothing of consequence, although I don’t understand them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They seemed more concerned on how they can sue the town and police force than they were about their son’s death.”

  “No, that’s typical. Cole was a privileged child, brought up by nannies. The only reason his parents even had him was to have an heir. They never spent any time with him.”

  “That’s a shame,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling.

  “Can we stay in for dinner tonight? I don’t know if I want to go out there today.”

  Swinging his legs off my lap, he sits up. “You okay?” He moves closer, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  “I’m still a little freaked out.”

  “We can stay in. What are you in the mood for?”

  “I could go for some nachos,” I admit.

  “I’ll have a patrol car swing by with takeout from Compadre’s.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “THIS SHOULDN’T TAKE long, maybe an hour at most. You okay with this?” Brody asks, one foot out the front door. He’s taking me down to the precinct because the FBI wants to ask me some questions about my original kidnapping.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I murmur behind him. “Shit, I forgot my sunglasses. Give me a sec.” Running back through the kitchen, I find them on the end table next to the couch. Turning, I traipse back out of the house. Three steps down the porch, an icy chill blows across my body and every hair stands at attention. It’s then I notice—where are the patrol cars watching the house?

  “Delani—” Brody screams, and my head whips around to the sound of his voice. As he reaches for his sidearm, he stumbles backward, his body twisting toward me. It isn’t until I hear the second gunshot that my brain registers what’s happening. As he collapses to the ground, his bright white shirt stained crimson red, I shriek in horror.

  “Brody!” I feel as if I’m floating over my body, watching the scene unfold from above. I don’t even recognize the sound of my own voice. My legs move on their own accord and I find myself hovering over him, tears splashing down on his paling cheeks.

  “Lani,” he croaks with all his strength, “run.”

  I can’t run. I won’t run. I’m not leaving him, even if it means they’ll come for me. This is all my fault. Placing my hand over the wound on his shoulder, I firmly press down, trying to control the bleeding. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. His once radiant chestnut and sage eyes are pale and hollow.

  “Please, save yourself. For me.”

  I hear footsteps from behind, but I won’t look, I can’t take my eyes off him. Trying to compose myself, I calm my breathing, knowing my blubbering won’t be any help. “I’m not leaving you,” I say, slow and controlled.

  “Lani, please—” Brody starts coughing uncontrollably, blood dripping from his lips. As I lean in to wipe his mouth, his eyes close, his head rolling to the side.

  “Brody, wake up,” I beg, nudging him, still keeping pressure to his wound. My hands are shaking, but I’m able to slow the bleeding. “Please, you can’t leave me, not when I’m falling in love with you,” I whisper. I wait for a response, but get nothing. “Please, Bro—” Fingers scratch against my scalp as my hair is yanked backward. I claw at the pavement, a blood-curdling scream burning my throat as it escapes. The grip on hair becomes harsher and my back scrapes against the road and I’m pulled away from Brody. My heart feels as if it’s being ripped out of my chest. Struggling, I reach out to him. “No, please! Don’t let him die!” I thrash and scream, but it’s no use. The grip releases my hair and I squirm, kicking my feet to scatter away, but two large hands hook under my armpits, pinching the skin. I scream again and flinch at the pain, but the hands hold me tighter, breaking my fight as they drag me back. Away from safety.

  “Brody!” I cry out, the loose gravel slicing into my skin as my shirt rides up. I shout against the pain and twist my head enough to see I’m being taken toward a white van. My legs kick out again and I thrash from side to side as Brody’s lifeless body becomes farther and farther away. I need to be by Brody’s side. He can’t die because of me. I scream again, trying to get anyone’s attention, but my screams only echo through the darkening skies. As I’m tossed like a rag doll into the back of the cargo van, someone places a cloth over my face. Just like back in New York, I smell this sweet aroma and it’s the last thing I remember.

  Brody

  MY EYES BOLT open and my body tries to sit up as pain shoots through me—so much fucking pain. A hand gently presses down on my arm. “Easy bro, easy. You just came out of surgery.” Turning my head, I see Travis hovering over me.

  “Surgery?” I look around at unfamiliar surroundings.

  “You were shot, man.” Shot. Fuck, Lani!

  “Where’s Lani?” I growl, adrenaline swimming through my veins.

  “We don’t know.”

  “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?”

  “Best we can figure, Armond took her.” Travis’s jaw ticks as he hangs his head low, sadness clouding his features. Fuck, I know that look.

  “How long?”

  “Two days.”

  “Two fuckin’ days! Shit, I’ve been out for two days and no one knows where she is?”

  “You’re lucky we found you when we did. You almost bled out,” he murmurs, grimacing. As I twist my body, trying to find a more comfortable position, my left shoulder screams in pain. A burning sensation lances through me like someone’s stabbing me with an army dagger. Cringing, I grit my teeth. “Shot was a through and through, missed your vital organs. Still did a lot of damage.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “Neighbor’s ‘cross the street heard gunshots, but they waited until the perps left before calling it in.”

  “Did they get a plate?”

  “No. But probably wouldn’t have mattered. It most likely would’ve been stolen.” I scowl, knowing he’s right.

  Reaching for the remote, I raise the bed so I’m sitting up. My left arm’s taped across my abdomen, making it difficult to maneuver. “She can be anywhere by now,” I murmur, displeased.

  Our eyes are drawn to the doorway as a doctor strolls through, holding a clipboard. “Brody, I see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got hit by a semi.”

  Chuckling, he says, “That’s normal. I can up your pain meds if you’d like.”

  “No. No pain medication. I need to be abl
e to think clearly.” I need to focus. I need to find Lani. I promised her she’d be safe, and now . . .

  “Okay. But at least take some ibuprofen for the swelling.” Looking down at his chart, he says, “Everything looks good. The bullet went straight through, no structural or vascular damage. It was a fairly simple surgery. You were very lucky.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearin’.”

  “You did lose a lot of blood, but nothing some rest won’t fix,” he says, glancing up from his clipboard.

  “How much longer do I need to be here, Doc?”

  “At least a couple more days.”

  I can’t wait that long. I need to find Lani. “That’s not happenin’,” I say as I try to stand.

  “That’s really not a good idea. You don’t want to rip your stitches.”

  Clutching my shoulder, I attempt to stand. “Doc, I need to get back to work.”

  “Brody, you can’t help her if you tear something and wind up back in the hospital.”

  Ignoring Travis, I slide off the bed. My legs wobble, but I’m able to stay upright. “I need a shirt. I’m pretty sure the one I came in with is shot.” Realizing the double meaning to my words, I laugh out loud. “Shot, get it!”

  Shaking his head, Travis tries to hold back a laugh, but I catch the corners of his mouth lifting. “I didn’t bring you a change of clothes, since you aren’t supposed to be leaving the hospital.”

  “Guess I’m leaving shirtless.”

  “Brody—”

  “Travis, how long have you known me?” I ask, walking toward the door.

  “A long time.”

  Turning back to him, I ask, “And in that time, how well have you known me to follow directions?”

  “Not well,” he says with a heavy sigh.

  “Okay then,” I say, waving toward the open door. “Let’s go.”

  After signing myself out of the hospital, and several other documents stating I know I’m going against hospital administration advice, Travis takes me to my place for a change of clothes. On the drive over, I run through how I could have prevented all of this—why wasn’t I more careful.