by Julie Kenner
Nothing. Where was Joe?
She turned and went oomph right into a male chest. Unfortunately, while it was a solid chest, it didn’t smell good at all. She looked up.
Damian.
Joe cursed as he watched Micki being shoved down the basement steps by that psycho punk Damian. Great. Two innocent civilians deep in the middle of bad guy central. Worse, it was two civilians with delusions of grandeur. Micki was bad enough with her noble belief that kindness would win the day, but Lucy had those damn shoes on. He knew from experience just how heady that magic kung fu could be. The kid probably thought she was impervious to bullets.
Whipping out his cell phone, he connected to Larry.
“We’re coming! We’re coming!” said his friend by way of greeting.
“Change of plans. Got two innocent females in the mix,” Joe grumbled. And didn’t just saying that send icy chills down his spine. “I’m going in now to do what I can.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t see a better option. I can’t leave them in there alone. One’s a kid. And the other . . .” Is the woman I love. Joe froze as that last thought filtered through his brain. It wasn’t a real thought. It couldn’t be. It certainly wasn’t the truth . . . was it?
It was. He knew it was the truth. But he really couldn’t deal with that right then because he’d freak out completely. The woman he loved in the middle of a drug bust? Not possible. Not something he could even remotely contemplate. Ergo, he was not in love.
He slipped his phone—with the line still open—into his belt. Not perfectly stable, but it would give Larry some idea of what was going on. At least he’d hear if gunshots started going off.
Then Joe grabbed his gun and slipped around the house to the front door. Even that little delay burned through his gut, but he had to think clearly here. Stealth was his best option. The front door was locked—naturally—but not difficult. A little judicious lock-picking, and he was inside without a problem.
He made out the shadows of a plush recliner, expensive take-out cartons, and a big-screen TV. Beyond that, he skirted through vintage bachelor decor, complete with dirty dishes in the sink and discarded beer bottles—imported. He quickly found the door to the basement. It was closed but not locked, so he eased it open and slipped downstairs.
“Miss Becker, this is a difficult conundrum.”
Gorzinsky, sounding smug. Who used words like “conundrum” except when trying to be an ass? Joe risked a peek around the corner.
Crap. Five bad guys plus the girls. And this time, Joe saw guns. No way could he take out all five before an ugly firefight began.
Then, even worse, he watched as Damian—busted-up face and all—grinned and draped his arm across Micki’s shoulders. He clearly couldn’t wait to beat the crap out of her or worse. Lucy was beside him, wheedling as only a teenage girl could.
“It ain’t her fault, Damian. She must have followed me. Just let her go. She don’t know nothing.”
“Shut up, Luce!” Damian said as he backhanded the girl. Micki was moving in a second, shoving at Damian’s side and trying to dive for the girl.
She got nowhere. Damian tightened his arm around her throat, and she was pulled up short, gasping and kicking for all she was worth.
“This is what a leader does, Miss Mouse,” he taunted as he began to squeeze the life out of her. “Ain’t so mighty now, huh?”
Joe had his weapon up and took aim, ready to kill the boy, but Gorzinsky intervened first. “Not here, you idiot! You can’t kill her here!”
Meanwhile, Micki slammed her foot down on Damian’s instep. The boy howled and released her enough that she fell onto her knees. “Can’t kill me!” she gasped. Then she looked up, a fierce anger in her eyes. “You can’t kill me, Gorzinsky,” she hissed.
The chem teacher raised his eyebrows. Joe didn’t even have an angle on the guy’s face, but he knew Gorzinsky’s supercilious look from just the tone of voice. “My goodness, the mouse speaks.” Pause. “Or was it squeaks?”
Micki rolled her eyes. It was a great move, reminiscent of every snotty teen on the planet, bringing out just the right attitude of disdain from Gorzinsky. Then, before Damian could do more than draw back his fist, Micki spun around.
“Don’t tempt me,” she hissed. “You know what I can do. I’ll kill you if you like, but I’d rather have a discussion here with the brains of this outfit.” She gestured at Gorzinsky. Clearly, it was a bluff. Since she wasn’t wearing the shoes, Micki had no skills whatsoever. But Damian didn’t know that. And he was intimidated enough to pause.
“The mouse has teeth,” drawled Gorzinsky. “Too bad teeth don’t do anything against a gun.” And just like that, all the bad guys—chem teacher included—drew their weapons.
Micki blanched, but her voice remained strong. “Go wait in my car, Lucy. This is between the adults.”
The girl gasped and started to object in a purely instinctive reaction to Micki’s authoritative tone. It might have worked on a different crowd, but not this one. Lucy rose from a half crouch but stood her ground.
“I been in on this from way early,” the child said softly. “It’s you who needs to go.”
“It’s you who needs to die,” Damian said as he aimed his gun at her temple.
Micki glared at the kids—all of them—but didn’t argue. Instead, she rounded on Gorzinsky and stepped right up to his gun. “Put that thing away. You look ridiculous.” To her credit, her voice barely quavered. “So, you’re making drugs for the kids to sell. That’s your big carrot and how you get them into the chem lab. Good idea, in a really twisted way.” She lifted her chin. “I want in.”
Gorzinsky blinked. So did Joe. It was a good try, and it might have worked if it wasn’t coming out of Micki’s mouth. She just didn’t have the feel of someone who would sell out for cash. That was one of the things he loved about her.
Then she had to go and push it. “It’s either let me in or shoot me,” she snapped. “And we both know that all that blood could be problematic. Not to mention disposing of the body, yadda yadda. It’s just not worth the effort.”
“Hmmm,” drawled Gorzinsky. “You have a point. Except, like every liberal arts major on the planet, you just don’t have a logical mind. I have a third option.” He looked at Damian. “Shoot her up, then dump her in the usual place.”
“No!” That was Lucy, launching herself forward with her magic shoes. She was on the table, kicking Gorzinsky’s gun aside. Good move, except it clattered to the wall right next to Tommy Wilson, who stooped to grab it. Two down—sort of. Joe doubted he would get a better chance.
He jumped the last few steps and landed in a crouch, calling out in his most authoritative voice, “Stop! Police!”
One kid dropped his gun, but Damian didn’t. “Bitch!” he screamed, and aimed his gun at Lucy, who was still on the table. There was no choice. Joe had no doubt that Damian was about to kill her.
Joe pulled the trigger.
Lucy screamed as Damian collapsed, even as she did a spinning flip to the floor. Micki dove forward, grabbing the girl and tucking her body around the small teen. Joe barely had time to register the move as he was diving to the iffy cover of the lab table. Bullets ricocheted around the room.
Fortunately for him, the bad guys were kids, too inexperienced to handle a firefight with calm. Their shots were wild, and their bodies stayed exposed. Joe crawled under the table as fast as he could. He took aim and fired. Once. Twice.
Not bad. They went down, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t killed them. Thirty seconds later, Larry and three other officers burst in—two from the back, two from the stairs. They barked something official. Joe hadn’t a clue what. He couldn’t make out a thing over Lucy’s screams. And he most especially didn’t hear a peep out of Micki.
Had she been hit? Was she dead?
“No,” he whispered as he started crawling over. “Nononononono.”
“It’s all right. We’re okay. Y
ou’re okay. Don’t worry. I’m here.”
He didn’t even hear the words at first. They were a kind of low, soothing murmur beneath Lucy’s wails. But once he caught the steady vibration, he fixated on it like a lifeline.
“Lucy, take a breath. That’s good. Inhale.”
Micki was alive. She was trying to settle Lucy down. He pushed the little girl aside and wrapped his woman tight to his chest. “Mickimickimicki.”
“Umph!” That was all the protest she gave as she tightened her arms around him.
“Marry me,” he said into her ear. “Right now. We’ll find a judge. I know where one lives.”
He felt her freeze in his arms. Then she pulled back. He only let her go about an inch, but it was far enough for him to see her eyes as she scanned him from head to shoulder. It was as far as he would allow her to move. “Did you get hit?” she asked.
“What? No. I’m fine. Are you fine?” He had already scanned her entire body twice, but maybe he had missed something.
“I’m fine. And Lucy’s . . .” She glanced to the side where the girl was staring at them with wide eyes. “Lucy’s fine, too. She’s stopped screaming. And she’s breathing now, right, honey?”
“Everything all right there?” Larry cut in from above them.
“Yes, Officer, I think we’re good. Thank you.”
“That’s not an officer, that’s Larry,” Joe cut in. Then he turned to his friend. “Larry, we need a judge. Right away.”
Larry’s gaze sharpened. “For a warrant?”
“A marriage license,” Joe answered, his mind churning fiercely.
“I think he hit his head,” said Micki as she ran her fingers through his hair.
Joe pushed her hands away. “I did not hit my head!” he snapped. “Oh God, did you?”
“I’m fine,” she answered again, but he was running his hands through her hair just to make sure. “Joe—”
“I’ve never been so scared in my whole life,” Joe snapped. He took a breath rather than relive the last few minutes. “We’re getting married, and that’s that.”
Micki was silent for a moment. He opened his mouth to argue further, but she pressed her fingers to his lips. It stopped the words cold—not because he couldn’t speak around her hand, but because he was lost in the feel of her two dainty fingers hot against his lips. One little mistake, and she could be dead right now.
“Micki,” he groaned, but she was looking at Larry.
“I think a paramedic ought to check him out.”
“But—” Unfortunately, Larry seemed to agree. He leaned down and lifted Joe up by the arm. Meanwhile, Joe was nearly sputtering on adrenaline-fueled outrage. “I just said I love you, and you think I need a paramedic!”
“Actually, buddy, you never said you loved her.”
“I damn well did! I—”
“Joe!” Micki straightened. She kept an arm around Lucy, who wasn’t screaming anymore, but was still obviously in shock. “We’ll talk more later. I swear. Right now, we’ve got children to handle.”
Joe blinked, feeling both foolish and stupid at that moment. He’d just shot three kids, and he was more concerned about marrying his girlfriend than their lives?
He glanced around him. Gorzinsky was being led out in handcuffs, as was the one who’d bent down to recover the chem teacher’s gun. Both were completely unscathed. The two he’d shot at the end were bleeding and complaining to the cops who were giving them first aid. They’d live. If the sound of sirens was any indication, there were ambulances on the way.
Finally, he let his gaze travel to Damian. No way was that kid alive. He’d known it before he looked, but he forced himself to see anyway. Two shots to the chest—one from Joe, one from one of his own gangbangers. Yup, very dead.
“The paperwork is going to be hell,” he murmured. Not the most PC thing to say, but he couldn’t regret the shooting. Damian had been about to kill Lucy. And he sure as hell was going to kill Micki.
“I’m glad he’s dead.” Lucy’s voice was high and thin, but still strong. Her gaze slid to Joe. “I only dated him to find out where the drugs came from. He only dated me because I know about chemistry. He wanted me to make the drugs for him, but I had to get proof on Mr. Gorzinsky.”
“No, you didn’t, honey,” Micki said as she stroked Lucy’s hair out of her face. “That’s what the police do. Your job was to be a kid.”
But Lucy wasn’t listening. She was toeing off her magic shoes. “That’s why I took your shoes, Miss Becker. I never thought you’d follow me in here.”
“Amen to that,” muttered Joe. “And don’t you ever do that again!”
Micki wasn’t even listening. She stopped Lucy with a quick squeeze. “Keep them on, Lucy. I think you need them more than I do.”
“What?” gasped the girl.
“What!” bellowed Joe. “She can’t—”
“She can,” interrupted Micki firmly. “Keep them, sweetie. I won’t need them back home in Michigan.”
“What!” bellowed Joe again. “I can’t move to Michigan!”
Micki looked up, but not at Joe. Instead, her eyes trained on Larry. “Lucy’s been incredibly brave, but I think she’s about done in for tonight. Can she stay with me, and I’ll bring her in for a statement tomorrow?”
“Take the kid, Larry,” Joe interrupted, his patience completely exhausted. “Take her away, right now.”
“Joe!” Micki exclaimed, but he didn’t give her a chance.
“Just give me a minute, please. Just a damn minute with the woman I love, okay?” He didn’t know if he was talking to Larry or Micki, but it didn’t matter so long as everybody left him alone with her. Just for a single minute. And until they could find a judge.
Larry snorted, then wrapped an arm around Lucy, who was still shaking. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get out of this basement.” And while Lucy was slipping her shoes back on, Larry took a moment to smile at Micki. “For what it’s worth, ma’am, I think he really does love you. I’ve never seen him this rattled before. Not even when he got shot.”
“Getting shot is easy,” grumbled Joe. “Damn stupid, but easy. It’s watching someone you love get shot—that’s hard. Life-changing kind of hard.”
Beside them, Larry sighed. “That’s as romantic as he gets, ma’am. If that’s okay with you, then I think you ought to say yes and marry him.”
“I don’t need your help!” Joe snapped.
“Yeah, buddy, you do. You proposed to a woman in the middle of a drug lab right after—”
“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.”
Larry looked like he was going to argue, but after a glare from Joe, he shrugged and buttoned his lip. A moment later, he and Lucy were climbing the stairs.
The basement was still overflowing with paramedics for the boys. Soon there would be the M.E. for Damian, and a host of other people doing their jobs. But for this second, it was just Micki and him in their little corner of Mr. Gorzinsky’s drug lab.
He didn’t give her a moment to think. “You can’t go to Michigan, Micki. My life is here. And you can’t give up your job. You’re too good at it.”
“Joe, you don’t know if you love me for real. You love—”
“If you wave at your boobs again, I’m going to lose it. Micki, let me explain something. I’m not attracted to big boobs. I’m attracted to strong women. Sarah, the blonde bombshell you keep referring to, is a triathlete and an ADA. She can reduce a lying witness to infancy and look fabulous while doing it. And Marjorie, the second bombshell you saw me with, is a firefighter. No shit. A firefighter with a nose for arson like you wouldn’t believe. She’s smarter than any PhD, and she can flop a two hundred-pound man over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.”
“Okay—”
“Listen to me!” He held her arms, afraid that if he let go she would disappear back to Michigan. “I like strong women. I love you.”
She shook her head. “I gave those shoes to Lucy. She needs them way more than I do—�
�
“I don’t give a damn about the shoes! Micki, you are the strongest women I’ve ever met. Tonight, you faced down a drug-dealing gang without any damn magic shoes. You were terrified, and yet you kept your head and even made a good stab at fooling that ass Gorzinsky.”
“It didn’t work.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re not a cop. Micki, you’re a teacher. And a damn good one.”
“You think I’m a terrible teacher!”
“I think you’re a naive one. But with my help, you’ll be so amazing—damn it, you already are amazing! And I love you! It’s not adrenaline, it’s not any magic whatevers, it’s not even the trauma of seeing you in the middle of a firefight. It’s because I love you. And I want to marry you. So please—”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” bellowed Larry from the stairwell. “Get on one knee, ya moron!”
Joe shot an angry look up the stairs. Apparently neither Larry nor Lucy had really left. But Joe went down anyway. In fact, he went on both knees, letting his grip slide to Micki’s hands. “I love you, Micki Becker. Will you please marry me?”
She didn’t answer. She was studying his face, her eyes misting up . . . with love? Could it be?
“Yes,” she finally whispered.
Larry and Lucy cheered from the stairwell. Joe blinked, then abruptly wrapped Micki in his arms. His knees wouldn’t lift him up.
“I love you, too,” Micki said against his ear. It was the greatest moment of his life. In fact, he had a full two minutes of absolute joy before he remembered something else.
“Uh . . . we’re not going to Michigan, are we? I mean, I could possibly get a job, but—”
“I guess . . . well, I guess I haven’t explored all the possibilities available for me here in Indianapolis. Besides,” she said as she helped him stand, “Lucy’s here. How am I going to borrow the shoes every now and then if I’m not in the area?”
His heart—and his groin—lifted at the thought. “You mean, we could maybe borrow the shoes. Like one night a week?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Lucy, who nodded. “That, or go back to that Web site.”
