Summer's Surrender

by LM Spangler

  The officer paced for a few seconds, all the while keeping an eye on Summer.

  “You have to understand. I’d hardened myself against fatalities caused by drunk driving. But this one lit a fire in me. From that day on, I had zero tolerance for anyone driving under the influence or anything like that. Mr. Jacobs’s father had chosen to play Russian roulette with a three-thousand-pound bullet. He took aim, and he became a murderer.”

  “I thought cops valued life above all else.”

  She looked around the kitchen, desperate to come up with an escape plan, cursing that within only a couple of hours her life was threatened again. The knife block was well out of reach. The pans hanging by the stove as well. Nothing within reach could do enough damage to make him drop the gun.

  Her cellphone’s thrilling ringtone startled both Summer and Officer Burkhardt.

  “Walk slowly to the phone and tell me who’s calling.”

  Summer nodded and moved to the counter. She glanced at the phone. “It’s my assistant. She must be checking up on me.”

  Officer Burkhardt motioned toward the phone with the gun. “Answer it. Put it on speaker. If you say a word about me, I will shoot you where you stand. Then I’ll shoot that disgrace you call a boyfriend.”

  Fear ramped itself even higher, running rampant through her body. She could only nod.

  “Hi, Jolene. I’m going to put you on speaker. My hands are kind of full.”

  “No problem. How are you?”

  “I’m…ah…fine.” She glared at the officer. “I have a killer headache, but other than that, I’m good.”

  “Okay. Just had to check. Are you opening the store tomorrow?”

  “Of course I am. You know I’d work through the apocalypse.”

  “Nothing keeps you down. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Yep. Have a good night.”

  “You too. Bye.”

  Summer ended the call and threw her phone onto the counter. “There. Are you happy?”

  “I won’t be happy until I see Ian Jacobs standing over your dead body. Then I’ll be ecstatic when I kill him. His death will complete the circle. An eye for an eye.”

  Anger replaced fear. Her jaw clenched. “You’re insane. It was Ian’s father… Did you hear me?” she seethed. “His father killed Richard’s family. Not Ian.”

  “Mr. Jacobs’s father had killed himself with his drinking. Junior and I got no satisfaction from that. An eye for an eye. A Jacobs has to die by our hand. And your Ian is the only one left.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Justice will be served.”

  Fear iced her blood, gripping her in its vise-like grip. How could it end like this? She had finally found love and a life she wanted. She shut her eyes, and Ian’s face filled her mind’s eye. She loved him so much, and wanted to spend her life with him. But the man staring her down would end it all.

  She opened her eyes and glared at him. “So, you’ve become judge and jury.”

  His grin exposed yellowing, uneven teeth. “And executioner.”

  * * * *

  Ian was in great need of a hot, burn-your-skin-off shower. Gut-wrenching fear had caused him to sweat. And he wanted no reminder that he could have lost the woman he loved. His life, the life he had always strived for, could have been gone with a pull of the trigger.

  After showering and changing his clothes, he locked up his house and walked toward Summer’s. As he crossed Canal Street, he noticed what looked like an unmarked police car in her driveway. One of the cops from earlier must have had more questions for her.

  Strolling at a leisurely pace, his mind pictured Summer and the cold steel pressed against her skin. She had paled so much her freckles stuck out against her porcelain skin. She’d have a mark no doubt.

  A light flashed from behind him. He stepped aside as a police cruiser drove past him, dimming its headlights again. It stopped in front of Summer’s, and a policeman stepped out. Panic rose, propelling Ian into a breakneck pace. A street light cast the alley in harsh light. Officer Folsom looked over his shoulder and held his hand out in a halting motion. Ian stopped and watched the scene unfold.

  The cop pulled his pistol from its holster and moved quickly to Summer’s front porch. He glanced in a window before maneuvering to the door.

  “NYPD. Open up or I’m coming in.” He pounded on the door. “NYPD,” he repeated.

  A gunshot rang out into the night. Ian’s blood ran cold. The cop tried the doorknob. No go. He stepped back, raised his leg, and kicked the door, which fell from its jamb. Another shot fired.

  Ian ignored the cop’s earlier action and ran into the house. Officer Folsom had his back to him, blocking his view into the kitchen. Time stood still. A sea of emotions washed over him. Fear, regret, anger, love.

  “Summer!” Ian’s shout echoed through the house.

  He shouldered his way by the policeman and stopped dead in his tracks. Officer Burkhardt lie on the floor with a hole in his head. Crimson ran from a bullet wound, forming a pool under him.

  Ian looked past him. Summer was on the floor, lifting herself onto her elbows.

  Relief crashed over him when her gaze met his. She was pale, but alive. He stepped around the dead officer and helped Summer to her feet. In the blink of an eye, she was entrapped in his arms.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” he murmured in her ear.

  She grunted. “I love you too, but I can’t breathe.”

  “Sorry.” Ian held her at arm’s length, and their gazes met and held for a moment. Emotions swirled in the liquid blue of her eyes.

  The corners of her mouth lifted, and she stepped into his arms. “I love you, Ian.”

  His arms went around her waist, and he pulled her close, feeling the warmth of her body, telling him that she was alive and unharmed. “I love you too.”

  He peered over her head. An almost perfect circular hole marred the back wall of the kitchen. He counted his lucky stars again.

  “How’d he miss hitting you with that bullet?”

  “Would you believe that I tripped over my own two feet? I actually heard the bullet whiz by me.” One hand covered her mouth, while the other clutched her stomach. She asked Officer Folsom, “Is...” She swallowed hard. “Is he dead?”

  The cop put two fingers to Officer Burkhardt’s pulse point. “He’s gone.” He rose and motioned toward the front door. “Would you mind stepping outside so I can ask you some questions while our crime scene techs work the scene?”

  They both nodded and followed Officer Folsom into the night. Grasshoppers chirped, unaware of life and death. Bats flew about, capturing their prey that’d been attracted to the lit street lamps.

  Summer told the cop everything that had been said and done.

  Ian felt sorry for Richard Carmichael. He wasn’t a born killer. His mind had been twisted under the tutelage of Officer Burkhardt.

  “Officer Folsom, can you tell us what will happen to Richard Carmichael? I’m assuming we’ll have to testify at his trial.”

  The policeman frowned. “There will be no trial.”

  “Come again?” Summer asked. “No trial?”

  “No, ma’am. He was found dead in his holding cell at the police station.”

  Summer gasped. “What?”

  “Preliminary exam indicated poisoning.”

  “Suicide?” Ian asked. He knew that initially Carmichael had no plans to live past the night.

  Officer Folsom sighed. “It would appear so. After what transpired here tonight, I have no doubt that Henry Burkhardt handed him the poison, probably in pill form.”

  Guilt eked its way into Ian’s mind. The whole sordid affair could have been avoided had someone shown the boy love, not hateful revenge. “Does he have any family?”

  The officer shook his head. “Would you mind coming into the station tomorrow? I would like to rehash what you’ve already told me. Maybe other facts will come to light after you’d had a night to think it over.”

  Summer snorted. “I doub
t I will ever forget this night.”

  “I do have one question. How did your assistant know to call the police? The move likely saved your life.”

  “I’ll have to give her a raise. She and I have a safe word—apocalypse. I used it, and she knew something was wrong.”

  His lips pursed, and he nodded. “Very smart. I’ll take my leave to oversee the crime techs.” Officer Folsom tipped his hat and walked toward the team of crime techs that had arrived.

  Ian wrapped his arm around Summer’s shoulders and steered her toward his house. “Guess you need a place to stay for a couple of nights?”

  She bumped his hip with hers. “I guess I do.”

  He swept her silky hair away from her face and brushed his lips against her temple. “You’ll always have a place with me.”

  She cupped his cheek and laid her lips on his, a butterfly soft, lingering kiss. When they separated, she smiled. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”

  Together, they walked toward the start of the rest of their lives and away from the whiskey whispers of the past.

  Epilogue

  One Week Later

  Memorial Day

  Summer looked over the expanse of Nana’s property. The lawn had recently been mowed, and the smell of fresh-cut grass mingled with the scent of smoke. Three grills hurled smoke into the air. A vast array of food and beverages lined tables set up next to the grills. People bustled about the large backyard. Adults talked among themselves while children ran about the yard or jumped from the dock into the pond.

  It was all music to Summer’s ears. She leaned against the deck railing as she people-watched. Autumn approached her with a newspaper tucked under her arm. Cale Deveraux, having been invited by her, joined them. Autumn’s floral skirt teased her ankles. She’d paired it with a pink, short-sleeved blouse and strappy sandals. Cale was her opposite, dressed in a DGC shirt and cargo shorts.

  Summer gave her a quick hug. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”

  “I love cookouts. Nana throws the best.” Autumn made quick introductions and unfolded the paper. “Did you see this morning’s York Daily Dispatch?”

  “No. Too excited about the cookout. And too busy. I made about three dozen deviled eggs.” She took the paper from her sister and snapped it open. After a quick perusal, she found an article headline reading Rocker Ian Jacobs Pays for and Attends Would-be Murderer’s Burial.

  Summer’s heart swelled with pride. It was true. Ian did indeed pay for Richard Carmichael’s burial. He’d forgiven Richard. She had as well. They were the only two attendees, and they prayed for him, hoping he’d find forgiveness in the afterlife.

  Ian walked around the corner of the house. Summer was about to wave when Colt moved from the small group of people he’d been talking to with a clenched fist. He approached Ian and, as quick as a flash, punched him.

  Ian’s head snapped back, and he fought to keep his footing.

  “Damn it, Colt. What in the hell are you doing?” Summer demanded as she and Autumn ran down the deck steps and helped Ian to his feet.

  Blood trickled from a small cut in Ian’s lip. People began to gather around them.

  “Nice shot, Rocky,” Autumn said.

  Summer whirled toward her brother. “What were you thinking?”

  “Don’t get mad at him, Summer. I had it coming,” Ian conceded, before moving his jaw from side to side. “Good to see you again, Colt.”

  “Welcome back,” Colt said as he offered his hand.

  Ian shook Colt’s hand and pulled him into a shoulder-bumping, pat-on-the-back bro hug. “Good to be here, my friend,” Ian admitted.

  Summer threw her hands in the air. “I will never understand men.”

  “Me either,” Autumn concurred, shaking her head.

  Colt and Ian laughed.

  “I told you I’d kick his ass if he ever hurt you,” Colt reminded her as the partygoers went about their business.

  “And I got what I deserved.” Ian wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Your brother can pack a wallop.” He shook his head. “I have something for you.”

  Summer’s brows rose in surprise. “Why would you get me anything? I’ve got you again. That’s gift enough.”

  Colt groaned, faked gagging sounds, and left them to themselves. Autumn ‘awwwwed’ before rejoining Cale on the deck.

  Ian’s gaze met Summer’s. She’d found love with him, in him, all around him. Her world was different now. She still had her store, but it now played second fiddle to Ian and the life they’d begun to build.

  The setting sun behind Ian cast a halo around his head. He’d only need a pair of wings and he’d be an angel. Her angel.

  He took her hand and led her to the front. As they rounded the corner of Nana’s home, Summer stopped in her tracks. Parked next to the curb was a rusty 1955 Ford pickup.

  She faced Ian as he took her hand and dropped a set of keys into her palm. “It’s all yours.”

  “You remembered.” At that very moment, Summer knew she had made the right decision in taking him back, in beginning life with him again.

  Only the person who knew her best would have given her such precious gifts.

  Not only had he given her the truck of her dreams to restore, he’d given her his heart. Lock, stock, and barrel this time.

  A tear slid down her face, and he used his calloused thumb to wipe it away. “I love you, Ian.” She pulled him hard against her and captured his lips with hers, trying to be gentle against his busted lip.

  His arms snaked around her waist, and he aligned her body with his. Their bodied swayed, their breaths mingled, becoming one. A tidal wave of love threatened to pull her under, and she was willing to drown in it.

  “Nice truck,” Nana commented, interrupting their moment. “Oh, would you two get a room? I don’t want you making out in my front yard.”

  Summer smiled against his mouth. “To be continued?”

  “Always and forever.”

  And she was good with that.

  About LM Spangler

  I live close to the Maryland border in South Central Pennsylvania. My husband is wonderfully supportive of me in all aspects of my life. I have a son who is currently serving our country in the U.S. Navy. My daughter is still in school. I’m blessed to have the three of them in my life.

  From a young age, I remember burying my nose in a book. A love that my mother and father passed onto my brother and myself. From my passion for reading sprang my love of writing. My mind is so often full of story ideas from the wildly paranormal to contemporary. I have notebooks lying about with story outlines and character descriptions. A song or TV show can spark an idea which circles my mind until I put the idea on paper.

  When I’m not writing, I enjoy spending time with my family, burying my nose in a book, and watching a vast variety of television shows from crime dramas to 1970’s game shows. I even dabble in crafting. My favorite craft would be jewelry making. There’s nothing like creating wearable art.

  LM Spangler’s Website:

  www.lmspangler.weebly.com

  Reader eMail:

  authorlmspangler@gmail.com