A Cop's Second Chance

by Sharon Hartley

  This was her job. But wasn’t saving Cyrus also her job?

  She hesitated. Should she leave without telling anyone?

  Someone grabbed Father Mac’s arm and began talking excitedly to him. As was his habit, the priest folded his hands and listened patiently. Good. She needed to avoid him until she’d processed the idea that her priest spoke to her parents from time to time.

  What exactly did that even mean?

  That maybe, despite all evidence to the contrary, they cared about her?

  “Let me get my purse and we’ll go find Cyrus,” she told Hot Shot. That was something she could handle right now.

  With a wary eye on Father Mac, she ran into the gym office, grabbed her purse and fished out her car keys. She and Hot Shot rushed across the parking lot. When she got close enough, Aleta raised her keys and clicked open the locks with a quick chirp.

  “Are you sure you can find this place?” she asked. Finding Cyrus was hardly her biggest obstacle to saving him, but it was the challenge she needed to deal with first.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Hot Shot answered.

  “When we get there, you need to stay in my car. I don’t want you at risk, too.”

  “No way.”

  She shot him a look and his eyes went huge.

  “Aleta, watch out.”

  Someone grabbed her from behind. Huge hands encircled her upper arms, squeezing hard. Before she could react, she’d been pushed forward and slammed against her car door.

  “Hey,” Hot Shot yelled as if from very far away.

  Pain shot through her ribs. The force of the impact knocked the breath from her lungs.

  “Hello, Delilah,” a voice she’d prayed she would never hear again growled in her ear. “Long time no see, babe.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AS BUBBA PRESSED Delilah’s sweet body against the vehicle, he ran his hands all over her looking for a weapon. Delilah used to carry a knife, and he needed a weapon.

  He found nothing. Too bad.

  But, man, she looked good. Better than he remembered. And she felt good, too. They were going to have some fun.

  The tall, skinny kid accompanying her came around the car with his hands curled into fists. “Leave her alone, mister.”

  “Get lost, kid,” Bubba said.

  But the boy kept coming. Bubba raised his right arm from where he groped Aleta and slapped the kid’s face, spinning him around so hard that he lost his balance and fell to the asphalt.

  Delilah screamed.

  “Go home to your momma, kid,” Bubba said.

  “Please don’t hurt him,” Aleta begged.

  Bubba liked the sound of his woman pleading. He squeezed her left breast.

  The kid scrambled to his feet, his nose bloody, hands curled into fists again. Stupid punk now looked undecided, his gaze staring holes into Delilah.

  “Run away, Hot Shot,” she moaned.

  Bubba laughed at the name. Hot Shot? Shit. Did Hot Shot want to take him on? He’d accommodate the punk if he wasn’t far more interested in getting reacquainted with Delilah.

  “Go,” Aleta said. She took a deep breath and gasped as if in pain. “Please. Find Father Mac.”

  Wide-eyed, the kid looked around as if searching for help, but didn’t move.

  Bubba grunted and thought a minute, which was hard with his head pounding again. If the kid ran off, he’d get the cops on him sooner than he liked. He needed a weapon. Delilah had failed him by not having one.

  But he was Bubba the Beast. He could handle this runt without a weapon.

  Without warning, he stepped forward and slugged the kid in the stomach.

  The kid doubled over and collapsed to the ground.

  “Stop it,” Aleta said in a strangled voice.

  Bubba looked back to her. “I’ll kill him right now if you move.”

  She closed her eyes.

  He picked up the kid and tossed him in the back seat of Delilah’s ride, a vehicle that was also a major disappointment. He’d thought with her rich-ass parents she’d have something flashier than this four-door piece of shit. He’d hoped for another Lexus or a Mercedes. This pile of junk had been around since before he went in the joint.

  Bubba watched the kid for signs of resistance, but he lay still, hands clutching his belly and groaning. Satisfied, Bubba grunted.

  Delilah surprised him by lunging for her purse where it had fallen to the ground. Bubba jerked her back up and kicked the brown leather bag away. She collapsed against the car.

  “You won’t need that,” he said.

  “Please. I think you broke a rib,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Too bad.”

  “It’s hard for me to move, Bubba.”

  “Oh, my heart is bleeding.”

  “Let us go,” she said, clutching her right side. “Please.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t want to do this.”

  “Why do you think I broke out of the joint?”

  And he knew what she was doing with all this talk. She thought he was stupid, but he knew she was trying to delay their leaving. He snatched her keys from where they’d fallen and shoved her into the driver’s seat. She winced and fell over the center console with a moan.

  Maybe he had broken one of her ribs. Good. He wanted her to feel the same pain he’d been suffering.

  He hated the idea of her in control of the vehicle, but she needed to drive. If he sat behind the wheel, Delilah could jump out of the car. Maybe she was even pretending she was injured. In the old days, she’d been able to take a lot of pain.

  But while behind the wheel she could also crash the car. He wouldn’t put it past her. Shit. He should have secured a weapon before he grabbed Delilah. Controlling her would be difficult without one.

  He activated a button on her key fob, and the trunk sprang open. He rummaged around inside until he found the car jack. He grabbed the metal shaft used to raise the bumper and slammed its weight against his palm. Good enough for the drive to her apartment.

  He’d find a nice, sharp knife to use there.

  When he got to the passenger door, he couldn’t open it. The bitch had locked it from the inside.

  “Open the door, Delilah.”

  She glared at him through the window, but didn’t obey him.

  Bubba swung his new weapon into the window.

  Delilah screamed and covered her face.

  He swung again and the glass shattered.

  He reached inside and unlocked the door. After using his hand to sweep away the glass, he climbed into the passenger seat.

  Delilah stared at him with those huge liquid brown eyes.

  He jabbed her damaged ribs with the rod, and then held it in front of her face. “See this?”

  The bitch displayed no reaction.

  “Do as I say or I’ll destroy that pretty face of yours right here and now.”

  She lifted her chin defiantly.

  “Or better yet,” Bubba said. “How about if I whack both knees of your buddy in the back seat? Or maybe smash in the side of his head like a pumpkin.”

  “No. Please don’t do that, Bubba.”

  “Then place your hands on the wheel.”

  She nodded once and placed both hands on the wheel.

  He grunted, liking it when she did what he said. What else could he order her to do?

  “Unlock all the doors, bitch.”

  She moved her arm to the door and pressed a button.

  This was more like it. He shoved the keys into the ignition and cranked the engine. “Drive,” he commanded.

  She shoved the car into Reverse. “Is there anything behind me? It hurts too much to turn.”

  Bubba laughed. “You’ve gotten soft.”

  Delilah m
ashed the accelerator and the car zoomed backward. When she hit the brakes, the car jerked to a stop, causing her to moan and double over again.

  “Cute, Delilah. Real cute.”

  She took a deep breath and said, “My name isn’t Delilah.”

  “I’ll call you whatever I want. Drive.”

  She placed the car in Drive and took off at a slower pace. A horrible dinging noise distracted him, making his head hurt worse.

  “Where are we going?” she asked over the sound.

  “Your place.”

  She nodded but didn’t answer. Was she frightened? Just wait. The plans he had for her would make her beg for mercy. But he needed to get rid of that damn noise.

  “What’s that effing sound?” he demanded.

  “The seat belt warning.”

  Bubba reached back for the strap, and then clicked his belt into position. The noise didn’t let up.

  “Put yours on,” he ordered.

  “I’ll have to pull over.”

  “Do it.”

  She pulled off the road and ever so slowly reached backward to grab the seat belt and latch it into place. The noise stopped.

  Bubba grunted in relief. “Drive.”

  Delilah pulled back onto the roadway.

  “Let the kid go, Bubba,” she said. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you want?” she demanded in a hard, unfriendly voice.

  “You know what I want.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I promised I’d come for you. Remember? Now we’re going to party.”

  “The cops forced me to testify against you,” she said.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “No way. You struck a deal and went free while I spent the last eight years locked up. I’ve been in hell while you’ve been playing basketball with kids.”

  “Wouldn’t you have done the same thing if our situations were reversed?”

  “No way, babe. I’d have died for your sweet ass eight years ago. And now you’re going to hell with me.”

  * * *

  STUPID, STUPID, STUPID.

  Oh, my God. The monster had found her. But how had he found her? Panic bubbled up, threatening to overcome reason, making her want to leap out of the car. No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t abandon Hot Shot. She gripped the steering wheel hard and forced herself to breathe, but not too deeply. Shallow breaths didn’t hurt as much.

  If she wanted to live, she needed to remain calm and consider her options.

  She drove as slowly as she could, but her mind raced, searching for a way to save herself and Hot Shot. Every time she took a breath, pain shot through her middle, which made it impossible to think clearly. No question she had a broken rib.

  How could she have been so stupid as to rush outside the gym without checking for danger? She was always careful, clutching her keys like a weapon, keeping the pepper spray close at hand. She’d heard Sean call it situational awareness.

  She’d been so upset about Cyrus and her parents and Sean—God, everything—that she’d hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings. She hadn’t been aware of anything but her own misery.

  And now that carelessness—that selfishness—would kill both her and Hot Shot. Think, Aleta, think. Get Hot Shot out of this mess. He doesn’t deserve to die for your mistakes.

  She shot a glance at Bubba, and paid for it with a stab of pain in her ribs. He looked and smelled as if he’d been hiding in a dumpster since his escape. His filthy T-shirt fit too tight, and his pants appeared to be prison issue. A huge, angry blister covered his left forearm, a wound that obviously needed medical attention. It looked infected. Maybe his escape hadn’t been running so smoothly.

  Bubba had always loved sympathy when things went sour. Especially from “his” woman.

  “What happened to your arm?” she asked, trying to sound as if she gave a damn.

  He grunted. God, she hated that sound.

  “Got too close to a fire,” he said.

  “Looks painful.”

  “Like you care.”

  “Of course I care,” she said.

  He grunted again.

  “I’ve missed you.” She almost gagged on the words.

  “Don’t give me that shit, Delilah. I’m not as stupid as you think.”

  “Then let the kid go,” she said.

  “You’re lucky I don’t break his neck and leave him on the side of the road.”

  “Let him go, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “You’ll do what I want anyway.”

  She nodded, calmer now. She wondered how Bubba had discovered where she worked. Did he also know where she lived? Out of instinct, she’d driven the opposite direction from her apartment. How long would it take before he realized she was driving aimlessly? Where could she go?

  She could crash the car somehow. What would happen if she smashed into the front of a police station?

  She might die. And so might Hot Shot. So, bad idea.

  She needed to come up with a plan to save an innocent young man. She longed to glance in the back seat to check on him, but the pain kept her staring straight ahead.

  She’d try one more time to make Bubba realize this was a doomed plan.

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Maybe not,” he said.

  “You’ll get the death penalty this time.”

  “So what? It’ll take years to execute me, and I’ll have such a good time remembering how I made you pay for your betrayal.”

  She swallowed. Lovely. She needed to be smart. She’d always known that was the only way to defeat a monster like Bubba. What would Sean the cop do? With a sudden clarity that hit her like a beacon of hope, she knew once Sean realized she had disappeared, he would try to find her. That was who Sean O’Malley was. What Sean was, a cop through and through. It’s why he couldn’t love her, but his personality might save her life.

  If he found her in time.

  So where would Sean and his police buddies begin their search?

  Her apartment.

  If Bubba wanted to visit her home, then she’d take him there.

  She slowed to make a right turn, and she heard the distinctive sound of the back door opening.

  “What the –” Bubba yelled, turning in the seat.

  Aleta didn’t turn, so she couldn’t see what happened, but from the sounds of it—and the noise was terrifying—Hot Shot had done exactly what she’d wanted to do during her initial panicked confusion.

  He’d leaped out of a moving vehicle.

  * * *

  “YOU NEED TO calm down, ma’am,” Sean told the large, furious woman. He stepped in front of her with his arms spread wide so she couldn’t get past him to attack her roommate, a graying fiftyish man who might or might not be her husband.

  Sean had been first on scene of this domestic disturbance and had determined that, fortunately, no one had been hit by the reported gunshots, so he hadn’t needed to summon the paramedics. When his fellow squad members had arrived seconds later, they’d placed the angry couple in separate rooms.

  He and Officer Lana Lettino were now dealing with the woman.

  “You want me to calm down?” she roared, still trying to get past him. “Calm down? I’m gonna kill him.”

  “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be making threats,” Lana said.

  “Threats? That’s no threat, that’s a promise. You hear me, Frank?” the woman shouted toward the kitchen where their other two squad members were handling the man. “I’m gonna kill you, sucker.”

  “Yeah, right, babe,” the man laughingly yelled back. “I’d be
scared if you could shoot straight.”

  Sean wanted to laugh himself, but this wasn’t funny. These two were either intoxicated or high on something, and incidents like this all too frequently blew up into homicide. This wasn’t the first time his squad had been called to this address, but it was the first time anyone had used a firearm.

  “Your name is Tanya, right?” Lana asked. Sean let Lana take the lead. Female victims frequently responded better to a female officer.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Tanya answered.

  “Did Frank strike you?” Lana asked.

  Tanya’s eyes lit up. “What if he did?”

  “If you want to press charges, we can arrest him for domestic abuse,” Lana told her.

  “Did you hear that, Frank?” Tanya yelled toward the kitchen. “I can have you arrested for abuse.”

  “For what, bitch?” Frank shouted back. “I ain’t never touched you. And you tried to kill me.”

  The officers in the kitchen attempted to calm Frank, asking if he wanted to press charges.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Tanya muttered, the fire seeming to go out of her. “He didn’t touch me. But he sure as shit touched that skinny-ass Mary down the street.”

  “So what do you want to do?” Lana asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tanya muttered. She collapsed onto a ragged sofa.

  “Do you want us to take Frank away?” Lana asked. “Do you want to go into a shelter?”

  “No.” Tears ran down Tanya’s cheeks. “Don’t take my man away.”

  Sean’s cell phone buzzed, but he ignored it.

  “Answer it,” Lana said, meeting his gaze with a dip of her head toward Tanya. “I got this.”

  Lana had given him the signal that she wanted to talk to the vic without a man present. Woman to woman. Understanding, Sean nodded and stepped out of the room.

  As he passed the kitchen, he heard Frank say, “I ain’t never touched her, Officers. I swear.”

  “O’Malley,” he barked into the phone.

  “Father Sean?” a trembling youthful voice asked.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Hot Shot.”

  Sean ran a hand through his hair. He’d given the kid his cell number, but considering the way they’d left matters yesterday, he didn’t think Hot Shot would ever call. And definitely not this soon.