by Elle James
“Kate?” Nash poked his head out the back door. “Sheriff Olson and I are headed over to the burn site to meet folks from the state crime lab. You can come or stay. We won’t be long.”
“I’d like to finish up with Bacchus, unless you think it would be better for me to go with you.” She’d just hidden the cocaine for the fourth time near the base of the office building, behind an old flower pot near a water spigot. She’d led Bacchus to the far end of the building to start the search when Nash had announced his intention.
“Then stay. We won’t be gone long. If we aren’t back by quitting time, I’ll see you Monday.”
Kate nodded. “Have a good weekend.” She hadn’t wanted to tell him that she needed to be at the sheriff’s office at quitting time because she had a date with Nash’s brother. If she’d gone with Nash and the sheriff, she might have missed Chance coming by to pick her up.
Determined to wrap up her training session and have enough time to wash her hands and comb her hair, Kate urged Bacchus to continue his search for the cocaine pouch.
This time, she took him away from the building and had him sniff the old vehicles parked in the back lot and the storage building where they kept some equipment and where she’d left her grandmother’s desk. She was glad the desk hadn’t been in the apartment when it had been ransacked. It wouldn’t have fared well in the amount of destruction that had taken place.
She’d talked with Lola about finding another place to stay. Lola had offered her a rollaway cot in the back of her shop until she could get someone in to clean up the mess and replace the furnishings that had been damaged.
Lola had been so kind and apologetic, Kate had felt bad for the woman. She’d lost her home to a fire, and now someone had destroyed the apartment she’d rented out. How unlucky could one woman be?
“The worst part,” Lola had confided, “was losing my entire shoe collection in the fire.” She sighed sadly. Then she’d perked up. “But that gave me an excuse to buy all new ones.”
Kate had laughed. She didn’t understand Lola’s love of beautiful shoes, but she liked Lola. “I can sleep on a rollaway cot. I’ve slept on worse.”
“Then I’ll see you after you get off work?” Lola had said.
“Later. I’m going to catch a bite to eat before I come by the shoe store.” She didn’t say she had a date. She wasn’t really sure what her meeting with Chance was. He’d only said they needed to talk, and he would take her to dinner to do it.
Her gut clenched. What if he was going to break it to her that he couldn’t keep seeing her as a friend? Hell, she didn’t want to keep seeing him as a friend. Her feelings for him had grown exponentially in the past week. It scared her how much she liked him. At this point, she was even more afraid of losing him. If she shared her feelings, would he turn and run away as fast as he could? Hell, he wasn’t over the death of his first love.
Kate had all those thoughts going through her head when Bacchus dropped to a sitting position in front of the storage shed and looked up at her.
She frowned at the shed and looked down at Bacchus’s expectant face. “There’s not any cocaine in the shed.” She tugged on his lead, but he refused to get up, sitting stoically in front of the shed, his tongue lolling, waiting for her to give him his toy.
Kate had a spare key to the shed on her key ring in her pocket. “Okay, we’ll look, but I’m telling you, the cocaine isn’t in the shed.” She had nearly thirty minutes to spare before Chance was due to pick her up. It wouldn’t hurt to take Bacchus through the shed to prove he’d been mistaken. Perhaps the cocaine training would take longer than the marijuana.
Kate unlocked the shed door and opened it wide.
A jumble of equipment was stored inside, from gardening tools used to maintain the grounds of the office, to old desks, crow bars and shovels. To one side stood a couple of boxes of her photo albums and memorabilia and her grandmother’s secretary desk.
Bacchus let out a low, dangerous growl.
“What’s wrong, boy?” Kate’s gaze shifted from the desk to the dog sitting at her feet.
Instead of facing into the shed, Bacchus had turned around, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, and his mouth curled into a wicked snarl.
“Kate, you might want to control your dog,” an all too familiar voice said.
She spun to face Randy, her heart sinking to her knees when she realized he held a gun in his hand.
“If that dog takes one step toward me, I’ll shoot him,” Randy warned. “Then I’ll shoot you.”
Bacchus growled again, low in his throat.
“Bacchus, platz,” Kate ordered, her hand tightening on his lead. “What do you want, Randy?”
“I want what’s mine,” he said.
“I don’t have anything that belongs to you. Hell, I don’t have anything of value. Don’t you think you’re being a little ridiculous with that gun?” She shook her head. “Do you even know how to use it?”
“I know how to use the gun. I point, pull the trigger and a bullet comes out.” He aimed at Bacchus. “Do anything stupid, and I’ll kill your precious dog.”
Bacchus released a threatening rumble from deep in his chest.
“You don’t know what kind of trouble you started,” Randy said, his lips twisting in a snarl.
“Apparently, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me about it,” she said, playing for time while she searched for a way out of the bind she was in. Sheriff Olson and Nash Grayson had gone to the site of the previous day’s fire and explosion. They wouldn’t be back for at least another thirty minutes.
Ava, the dispatcher, was glued to her monitors and the 911 phone system. She wouldn’t be able to break free to check on Kate, nor would she suspect anything was wrong if Kate didn’t come back into the office. Her job was to focus on any 911 calls coming in from all over the county.
Which left Kate alone with Bacchus, and her ex-boyfriend threatening to kill the dog.
Kate would be damned if she let Randy harm one hair on Bacchus’s head. “Tell me what you want. Maybe I can help you find it.”
“I know where it is, now. I just need to get it to the right people before they decide I’ve absconded with it to get a better deal.”
Kate shook her head, an even deeper feeling of dread washing over her. “What are you talking about?”
“The package I hid in that hunk-of-junk desk that belonged to your grandmother.” He waved the gun at the interior of the shed. “Now that I’ve found it, all I have to do is get the package to the buyer, and I’m off the hook.”
Kat’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You were dealing drugs out of my apartment?”
“I couldn’t get a decent job. How do you think I could afford to live?”
“You were living rent-free on me.”
“Yeah, rent-free, but not free. I still had to eat and pay for my car and gas.”
“Wow, Randy, you are a piece of work.”
“Yeah, and you’re all holier than everyone.” He took a step closer, his gun pointing at Bacchus. “Shut up and get into the shed, and take your dog in there, too.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked as she backed into the shed, dragging Bacchus with her.
“It’s not what I’m going to do, but what you’re going to do.” He nodded toward the desk. “You remember the secret drawer you showed me in your grandmother’s desk?”
She nodded.
“Open it.”
She hesitated. “Why? What’s in it?”
“Open it, damn it, or the dog dies,” he said, his tone intense, sweat popping out on his brow.
Kate did as she was instructed. She figured as long as he wasn’t shooting, she was okay. She needed to drag out the encounter as long as she could until help had a chance to arrive.
Chance. As her thoughts went to the firefighter, she realized he could show up there unarmed and try to rescue her.
Randy was unhinged enough he would shoot anyone who surprised him
from behind.
Kate dropped down the front of the desk, creating a desktop for writing letters. Then she reached into one of the cubbies and pressed a dowel button. The button released a drawer that blended into the design of the desk. When it popped out, a bag filled with white powder came with it.
Kate gasped. “That was in there this whole time?”
“Why do you think I was so adamant about getting my things before you had the police cart me off?”
“You bastard. The whole time I was in a war zone, you were using me and my apartment to deal drugs, knowing how I feel about them.”
“You’re just a stupid goody-two-shoes. You don’t know what it’s like to be jobless. You don’t get it.”
“Yeah,” Kate snorted. “Because I could always find work. I’m not too proud to flip burgers or clean toilets.”
“Well, I’m not going to clean up after other people’s shit.” He waved with his free hand. “Bring me the stuff.”
Kate wanted to throw it in his face, but he still had his gun pointed at Bacchus. She couldn’t risk it. Randy might get trigger-happy and shoot the dog.
She walked toward the man she’d wasted too many days of her life with. When she came close enough to hand him the cocaine, he grabbed her outstretched hand, spun her around and yanked her against him, wrapping his arm around her neck in a headlock.
Bacchus braced to lunge.
“Bacchus, platz!” Kate yelled, afraid the dog would try to protect her and catch a bullet for his efforts.
“That’s right. Tell that dog to stay,” Randy said, his breath hot in Kate’s ear. “If you want him to live, you’ll close the shed with him in it.”
Kate saw it as the only way to keep the dog safe. Once she was certain Bacchus wouldn’t be harmed, she’d figure a way out of Randy’s grip.
Randy inched forward with her as she swung the shed door closed with her free hand. She still held the cocaine in her other hand.
When the door was closed and secured with Bacchus safely inside, she swung the cocaine up and behind her, hoping it was in the direction of Randy’s face.
He ducked, and the brick of drugs sailed past him and landed with a thud on the ground.
Randy tightened his arm around Kate’s neck. “I still have a gun, only now it’s pointed at your head. After spending the last few days in jail, I can tell you it wouldn’t take much for me to put a bullet through your head.”
“Take your drugs and go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, much less past her vocal cords.
“Oh, I’m taking the drugs, all right.” He lifted her off her feet, tilting back with his arm still around her neck.
Kate clutched at his arm, trying to drag it down so that she could breathe. He set her on her feet in front of the cocaine and loosened his hold. “Get the stuff,” he commanded. “And don’t try throwing it again. I can still pump a lot of bullets into the door of that shed. The dog didn’t have much room to move in there.” He leaned close, his mouth near her ear. “Get the picture?”
“Bastard,” she said. “Leave the dog alone.” Bending with him, she retrieved the cocaine from the ground. “You have what you came for. If you don’t leave soon, others will come looking for me.”
“Then get moving. We don’t have much time.” He waved the gun toward the alley beside the sheriff’s office. Still holding her tightly, he maneuvered her around the corner. A dark sedan stood in the shadows of the alley.
“Get in,” Randy said. “You’re driving.”
She dug her feet into the pavement, bringing them to a halt out of range of the shed and Bacchus. Already the dog was barking and scratching at the door. Kate could hear his desperation, even as muffled as the sound was. She had to get away and free her dog. The shed could get hot enough to be dangerous in the late-afternoon Texas sun.
“Move or die, bitch,” Randy ordered, pressing the gun to her temple.
Kate knew if she got in that vehicle, she would have less than a fifty-percent chance of living. At that exact moment, no one knew Randy was in town. No one would see him driving off with Kate in his car. The car wasn’t anything Kate recognized and was probably stolen.
If she didn’t do something now, she might not live to rescue Bacchus from the heat of the sealed shed.
Remembering as much of her hand-to-hand combat training as she could, she slammed her arm up against the barrel of the pistol. The gun went off, but the bullet missed her. Jabbing her elbow into Randy’s midsection, she tucked her chin into her chest and ducked beneath his arm as he loosened his grip.
Kate dove, grabbed hold of his wrist and pushed the gun up in the air.
Randy fired again. “Damn you to hell. I should have blown up your apartment with you and that damned dog of yours in it.”
“You! You were responsible for the explosions?” she gritted out, still wrestling to keep the gun raised.
“Damn right I was. I gave some teenagers drugs for their explosives. Made for some impressive fireworks. No one saw me go into your apartment. They were too busy worrying about the fire and the explosions.”
Fury fueled Kate’s efforts. She released her hold on his wrist and slammed her palm into his nose.
Randy cursed and swung his arm, his aim off as he blinked tears from his eyes. Blood ran from his broken nose and down his chin. He roared his anger and aimed toward Kate.
She dove for the ground, but not soon enough. A bullet caught her as she fell. Pain knifed through her side. She couldn’t let it stop her. She couldn’t die. Bacchus needed her. And she had a date with a man she was falling hopelessly in love with.
Another shot was fired, hitting her in the shoulder. Pain racked her body as she dragged herself away from the man, heading for the corner and some measure of cover from flying bullets.
As she rounded the corner, she looked back.
Randy wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand and reached for the brick of cocaine that had rolled to a stop near the sedan.
As he picked up the packet, the wrapping disintegrated in his hands and white powder exploded in all directions.
“No!” Randy cried. He dropped to his knees and raked at the dust, trying to pull it back together. Wind picked up and blew the dust up and into a swirl, and then whipped it away. Randy roared and turned toward Kate. “You bitch! You stupid bitch! Do you know what you’ve done?” The hate and loathing in Randy’s eyes were so vivid, Kate shivered.
The man staggered to his feet, lifted the gun, aiming again at Kate.
With little energy left, Kate couldn’t crawl the rest of the way around the corner. So, she tucked her arms close to her sides and rolled.
Shots rang out. Kate couldn’t feel any new pain, but darkness closed in on her, fading her vision to black, her last thoughts of Bacchus and Chance.
Chapter 13
Chance counted every minute throughout the day, anxious to see Kate and to tell her how he felt. He prayed she wouldn’t spook and tell him she didn’t want to see him ever again. Hoped she would at least let him woo her, taking his time to win her over. He’d be patient, if he knew he had even a slim chance of Kate eventually falling in love with him.
Just the thought of giving his heart to Kate made the world look entirely different to him. Gone was the darkness he’d carried with him since Sandy’s death. It was as if the sun had finally come out in Hellfire, and it was shining down on him with hope and promise of better days to come.
Thirty minutes before he was supposed to be at the sheriff’s office, he couldn’t wait another minute. He drove his motorcycle to the front of the office, disappointed that not a single SUV stood out front. Would Kate be out on a call and late getting back? God, he hoped not. Everything he wanted to say was fighting to get out of him. If he held it in much longer, he’d explode.
He parked his motorcycle, got off and slipped out of his helmet. He laid it next to the one he’d brought for Kate. She’d said she wanted a ride
on his bike. Though he’d wanted to take her horseback riding first, he didn’t want to disappoint her when so much was at stake.
Like a teen on his first date, he shuffled his feet and worried she might not be as taken with him as he was with her.
Then he heard a sound he hadn’t heard since he’d returned from the war in Afghanistan.
Gunfire.
His blood ran cold, and he turned in the direction he thought it had come from. He stared at the sheriff’s office. The sound had come from somewhere around the building. It hadn’t been muffled, so it couldn’t have come from inside.
He started running, even as his mind played through different scenarios. Who could be firing a gun so close to the office?
Another shot echoed off the walls of the nearby buildings.
Chance entered the alley between the sheriff’s office and the building next to it. A dark gray sedan was parked in the shadows. A man pushed to his feet with his back to Chance, cursing as white dust flew around his head. He lifted his arms.
Chance could see he had a gun in his hands. He didn’t recognize the guy and, in a split-second, concluded he was a threat.
Chance ran toward the man and hit him in the back like a linebacker taking out the opposing quarterback. The gun in the guy’s hand went off.
Chance landed on the man’s back, slamming his face into the pavement. The pistol slid across the ground, coming to a stop a couple of yards away.
The shooter lay still, unmoving. Breathing, but unconscious.
Chance pushed to his feet and stared down at the man, and then in the direction he’d been pointing.
A swath of blood streaked the pavement in bright red.
His heart pounded as he swept the gun up in his hand and followed the trail of blood.
As Chance rounded the corner his heart plummeted to his gut, and he dropped to his knees.
Kate lay on her side on the ground, blood staining the T-shirt she’d left the fire station in that morning.
Chance touched his fingers to the base of her throat and let out the breath he’d been holding when he felt a pulse. “Kate, sweetheart. Can you hear me?” he asked, his voice shaking. Hell, his hands shook, and his eyes burned. God, she couldn’t die on him. From the blood oozing out of her, she’d been hit in the shoulder and in the side.
