Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. It was Crystal. "Selena, what's going on? You got a guy in there?"
I'd have answered, called for help, but Conrad made a last-ditch lunge for me. His hands connected with my throat. They closed around it. I couldn't breathe. I clawed at his hands, but he held on tight.
I kicked, kneed and swatted at him, but connected no place useful. The pounding at the door grew louder. Conrad tightened his grip.
Fighting the waves of panic, I turned my head. I glimpsed the revolver just beyond my reach. Conrad followed my gaze. He dug his thumbs into my windpipe. The pounding at the door grew louder. So did the pounding in my head.
I ordered myself to focus. I studied the revolver. I stretched my arm toward it. It was mere inches from my fingertips. I willed my arm to stretch farther. It wouldn't obey. Nothing would. I gave up on the revolver and clawed at my throat, prying at Conrad's fingers one at a time. They wouldn't budge.
I searched Conrad's face. It brought no comfort. His eyes blazed with something, maybe anger, maybe passion. It was hard to tell, and I didn't have the energy to analyze it. The lights grew dim, and I vaguely wondered if Conrad's face would be the last thing I saw.
From the doorway, I heard the sounds of shots, followed by a deafening crash. In a haze, I thought I saw Bishop plunge in, gun raised, Crystal just steps behind him. Conrad released his grip on my throat. I gulped air, and Conrad lunged for his revolver. This time, he reached it. In an instant, its muzzle was pressed against my temple.
Into the silence that followed, Conrad told Bishop, "Come one step closer, and she's dead."
I couldn't focus. Even as my body fought for survival, my mind remained numb. What was Bishop doing here? Where was my gun? Didn't I have two? I closed my hands. They were empty. A second later, Conrad pulled me to my feet, jamming his revolver under my chin.
My gaze darted around my apartment. Crystal stood in frozen horror. Bishop pointed his gun at Conrad and racked a round into the chamber.
Conrad positioned his body behind mine, making me a human shield. He pulled back the hammer of his own gun. "I'll shoot her," he said. He thrust the muzzle deeper into my flesh, and I whimpered.
"Drop it," Conrad told Bishop. "Now."
I felt, rather than saw, the indecision in Bishop's eyes. Either way, he'd lose. So would I. While Bishop hesitated, Conrad dragged me, my rubbery legs sliding behind me, toward the alley entrance.
I tried to think, but the wheels wouldn't turn. Where was my gun? Or Conrad's? And then I remembered. It was pressed under my chin. How had I forgotten? I couldn't decide what was more terrifying – Conrad, or my inability to pull myself together.
Keeping his gun on me and his eyes on Bishop, Conrad stomped onto the board nailed across the door. After a couple attempts, the board sprang from its support and clattered to the wooden floor.
Conrad reached back, fumbling for the doorknob. He shifted us aside, and the alley door swung inward, bringing with it a rush of icy air. He reclaimed his position in the doorway, keeping my body between him and Bishop, who had lowered, but not dropped, his gun.
Somewhere in the hazy recesses of my mind, I was glad. If Bishop dropped it, I was dead. Probably, I was dead anyway. My eyes met Bishop's, and realization dawned. No matter how this played out, Conrad was dead too.
I loved Bishop so desperately. Today, I should've told him. He had to know. I heard a choked sob. It was mine.
Conrad took a step backward, pulling me out of the doorway after him. Poised on the alley landing, he said to Bishop, "Not so tough now, are you?"
Suddenly, a flash of black metal plunged from the rooftop. I heard a dull thud as it connected with Conrad's shoulder. His gun clattered to the wooden landing. Conrad yelped and fell backward against the landing rails. With a loud sudden creak, the rails gave way. Conrad's grip on me released. But it was too late. Wherever he was going, I'd be going too.
Bishop dove across the floor, making a last-ditch lunge toward me. But it was no use. Bishop's face disappeared from sight as I followed after Conrad, plunging to the frozen ground below. That was the last thing I remember.
Chapter 95
Crystal would later tell me that Conrad's body cushioned the blow of my fall. I had a broken wrist, a concussion and a few bruises. I also had, courtesy of Conrad, the biggest sore throat of my life.
Conrad wasn't so lucky. He had a broken leg, three broken ribs, and a broken collar bone, all resulting from the two-story drop onto frozen ground.
At least that's what it says on the official police report, which makes no mention of the metal boat anchor my brothers had rigged to the rooftop, hooked to a tripwire on the stairway landing.
The anchor was never found, thanks to Crystal's quick thinking. Today, she's added the anchor to her apartment décor. A conversation piece, she calls it, although I doubt she'll tell anyone the whole story.
Bishop arrived just in time. A second later, and the story would've ended a lot differently. I shudder to think of how differently.
Two days later, I sat in the coffee shop, reading the Riverside Times and feeling more rested than I had in weeks. At last, something had knocked fortune telling off the front page. With the whole story out in the open, Conrad Harrison was back in the news with a vengeance, even as he lay recovering in the hospital, closely guarded by the Riverside Police.
There is such a thing as too much excitement. I'd slept for nearly two days straight and felt almost human. Michigan may be cold, but it has the best sleeping weather, cool and crisp and perfect for burrowing under the covers.
Bishop's quiet presence, sleeping next to me, made the rest more relaxing than I could imagine. If I had my way, we'd be doing a lot more than sleeping, now that I was feeling more like my old self.
We hadn't talked much since that night. I hadn't been ready. But sitting in the coffee shop, once again bustling with activity, I decided it was time to catch up on what I'd missed. I sipped a mocha, swallowing with care as the smooth liquid warmed my sore throat.
"That night," I said, "How'd you know Conrad was there?"
"I didn't." His voice was quiet. "I saw your car all busted up. I tried to call. You didn't answer."
"So you broke in?"
"The door was open. And once I got inside–" His gaze met mine. "I should've never left you alone, no matter what you said."
"Oh come on," I said. "How could you know?"
"If I had lost you–" He looked away. "I swear, Selena, if I'd had a shot, I'd have killed him." His voice became rough. "And I wouldn't have given a rat's ass what happened afterward."
I summoned up a smile. "Again with the rat's ass?"
"You're gonna be the death of me."
"Hey, I was careful," I said.
Bishop gave me a look.
"Oh shut up."
Grinning, he shifted his chair closer. "Wanna make me?"
And so I did, leaning into him and feeling his arms close around me as our lips met in a kiss so achingly tender that it left me wanting more. Before he pulled away, I heard his voice, low in my ear. "I swear to you, that fucker is going to pay for what he did to you."
I pulled away. "You're kinda scary," I said.
"Thanks."
"I'm not sure that was a compliment."
"Hey, I'll take what I can get."
I squeezed his hand. "There's something else, something I should've said when you stopped by."
His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
I leaned my forehead into his. "I love you. I swear, I've always loved you."
His eyes closed, and he inhaled deeply. When he opened them again, they were shining bright in afternoon light.
"I love you too," he said. "Always."
When I glanced at the neighboring table, Barb and Rae Ann were sitting on the edge of their chairs, not bothering to hide the fact they were staring.
Barb gave me a sappy grin. "Awwwww…"
When Rae Ann joined in, I couldn’t help but laugh. Loweri
ng my voice, I turned to Bishop. "So if you didn't know Conrad was there," I said, "why did you show up?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he said.
"Not really."
"To throw myself on your mercy," he said.
"Oh please," I said.
His voice was low. "Did you forget?" he said. "You're mine. And I'm never gonna let you go."
I couldn't help it. Following Barb's lead, I gave him a sappy grin and said, "Awwwww."
I looked over the packed coffee shop. It was good to see the store busy again. Once the whole story was out in the open, our customers returned in droves, along with a whole bunch of new people eager to experience our particular brand of fortune fun.
It was good to see my fellow fortune tellers working again too. Crystal bustled about the coffee shop, while Gabriel manned the book room. There was no fortune telling, not even for magical mochas. We'd had enough legal drama to last a lifetime and weren't taking any chances. In the meantime, we focused on appealing the law on a state level.
Even though Gabriel had been released, I remained concerned. According to Officer Jolly, Conrad's confession to me would never be admissible in court. The police had no hard evidence that Conrad had actually killed Lucy Larimar or Harold Scrufton. Other than his boasting to me, Conrad had been careful.
Conrad probably would serve some time for attempting to bribe a public official, and even more for attempting to kill me. But as for the rest, only time would tell.
So when Officer Jolly walked in the door of the coffee shop, I was hoping for good news. I wasn't disappointed. He pulled up a seat, joining me and Bishop at the small table.
"Found us some nice evidence," he said with a big smile.
"Against Conrad?" I said. "What's that?"
"A Tarot deck. Hidden in Conrad's safe."
"The Rider-Waite deck?" I asked.
"The very same," Officer Jolly said. His smiled broadened. "And guess what was missing?"
I stared at him. "The Death Card?"
"You got it."
"But Conrad told me he burned that deck," I said.
Bishop chimed in. "Yeah. And we all know he's Mister Honesty. "
Officer Jolly rocked back in his chair. "Yeah, you shoulda heard him too. Screamed to high heaven that he was framed. Biggest bunch of bullshit you ever saw."
"But why on Earth would he keep the deck?" I said. "That's just asking to get caught."
Officer Jolly shrugged. "Lots of folks keep souvenirs of their crimes. It's not as rare as you'd think."
Bishop turned to Officer Jolly. "Find anything else?"
Officer Jolly looked around. He lowered his voice. "I shouldn't be telling you this. But we also found a couple of stolen guns."
"Where?" I asked.
"In Conrad's safe. Traced 'em back to a shootout at some meth lab."
"You're saying Conrad had a meth habit?" I said. "No way. I don't believe it."
"Maybe he wasn't a user," Officer Jolly said, "but he could've run the operation."
"A meth lab?" I said. "I don't see it."
Bishop frowned. "You sticking up for him?"
I put my hand on Bishop's. "I'm just surprised," I said. "It seems a little low-brow for someone like Conrad."
"As opposed to the high-brow activity of trying to kill you?"
I flinched. Bishop squeezed my hand. "Sorry."
"That's alright," I said. "I guess you're right. It's just surprising, that's all."
"Life is full of surprises," Bishop said.
Chapter 96
That night, as I cuddled up to Bishop on my apartment sofa, I said, "I talked to Riley today."
"Yeah?"
"She told something interesting about my so-called scholarship."
"Which one?"
"You know which one," I said. "The one in Alabama." When he said nothing, I continued. "You were the one who paid for it?"
"You weren't supposed to know that."
"But how could you afford it?" I said. "I mean, I know you didn't have a lot of money back then."
"I had enough."
From Riley, I knew he was lying. But I didn't call him on it. Instead, I said, "That must've been really tough."
"Compared to losing you?" he said. "It was nothing."
"But you didn't have to do that."
"Yes," he said. "I did." He pulled away and turned to face me. "And I need to tell you something, something I should've told you a long time ago."
"What's that?"
"I wasn't gonna let you go without a fight."
"What do you mean?"
"When I came back from Detroit to find you gone, I just about lost it." Bishop blew out a long breath. "I don't know what the hell I expected, but not that."
My heart ached for him. "I'm sorry," I said.
"No, baby. I'm the one who's sorry. Even back then, I knew I fucked up. But I was gonna make it right. So maybe a couple days after you leave, I'm standing on this doorstep…"
"What doorstep?"
He gave something like a laugh. "Some condo in Alabama."
My breath caught. "My doorstep?"
He nodded.
"But you didn't even know where I lived."
"Yeah. I did."
"How?"
"I called in some favors. Let's just leave it at that."
"But I never saw you." I felt myself swallow. "Did you change your mind?"
"Yeah. But not in the way you think."
I shook my head. "I'm not following."
"You see, I'm at your place, and there are two cars in the driveway. Yours and another. This other car, it costs more than I'd make my whole life."
Bishop was quiet for a moment, and the pieces started falling into place. I knew exactly what car he meant. The Ferrari. I felt a sickening dread, anticipating what he might say next.
He continued, "But I knew you had a roommate, so I figure the car's gotta be hers, right?" He hesitated. "And then I hear something."
"Oh my God," I breathed. "You heard Preston, Riley's fiancé."
"Yeah."
I bit my lip. "Were they–?"
"Yeah."
I let out a small breath. "And you thought he was with me?"
"I didn't want to believe it," he said. "I told myself 'I know her. She wouldn't do that. Not so soon.'"
"I wouldn’t have," I said. "I didn't."
"Yeah. But I knew how mad you were. And I knew you wanted something different." He made a sound of derision. "And after what I did, I had to ask myself, 'Can I really fucking blame her?'"
My voice was quiet. "So what'd you do?"
"Well, standing there, I've got two choices – leave, or bust down the door and kill him with my bare hands. Because I know if I stick around, that's exactly what's gonna happen."
"Only him?" I said.
He gathered me close. "Baby, I'd rather die than hurt you. You know that."
"I know." Still, it was good to hear. I nestled against him. "You know what's sad?" I said. "I wasn't even home."
"How do you know?"
"Because," I said, "you said there were only two cars."
"But one of them was yours."
"I know," I said. "But Preston? He used to block me in all the time. He was so worried about that stupid Ferrari that he'd never park it on the street, even if it meant I'd have no way to get out, short of knocking on their bedroom."
I tried to laugh. "Which of course, I hated doing, especially when they were going at it. Preston was a real screamer, if you know what I mean."
His voice was deadpan. "I noticed."
"But Riley was a good sport. So if her car wasn't blocked in, I'd just grab her keys and take off." I pulled back to look at him. "Still, you should've known." I met his gaze, wanting him to know something once and for all. "There was nobody but you."
"Never?"
"Not for a long time," I said. "Maybe a year, a little longer. Riley used to tease me something awful." I hesitated. "But if that's what you thought about me, why wou
ld you pay for the scholarship?"
"Because I owed you that," he said. "And I loved you so damn much. You deserved to be happy, even if I wasn't."
"But I wanted you to be happy too," I said.
His gaze met mine. "I'm happy now."
"Me too." I leaned into him. "So after you left that day, what'd you do?"
"I kept on driving," he said, "all the way to Texas."
"Why Texas?"
"I ran out of road. Anyway, I end up meeting this guy, and his family owns this shipping company. They're having some security problems. I start messing with their systems, improving them, adding a few things of my own. When everything's said and done, I end up with a few patents, start licensing them, and everything changes."
"Just like that?" I said.
"That was the short version," he said. "Anyway, I spent a couple years with this guy's family, a couple years overseas, some time with Lawton. And then I came back."
"Because you were homesick?"
His hand caressed my neck. "No. Because I was sick to death of missing you."
That next Saturday was Valentine's Day. Night had fallen, and we were heading out to that event he'd talked me into attending. Dressed in formal attire, we'd just made our way into the darkened alley behind the coffee shop, where Bishop's vehicle waited.
Gently he helped me into the passenger's seat. I looked up as he clicked my seatbelt into place.
"I could've gotten that," I said.
"Not a chance."
As he stood by the open passenger's side door, I looked at my cast. "You know, I'm going to look ridiculous."
"Why?"
I held up the cast. "Look at this thing. With what I'm wearing? I look silly."
"No. You look beautiful." He glanced down at my dress, a slinky red number that showed a lot of leg. "And I'm liking that dress."
"You would," I laughed. "I'm gonna freeze to death."
"With me here? Nah, not gonna happen."
"Now that we're really a couple," I said, "do I still have to do the crazy jealous girlfriend thing?"
"Not girlfriend," he said. "Fiancée, remember?"
I groaned. "You're not really gonna hold me to that, are you?"
"Sorry. A deal's a deal."
Illegal Fortunes Page 39
