Nine
Completely bewildered, I stared at Liz. “What did you just inject me with? And how did you get in here?”
“Shhhhh,” she soothed, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and steering me toward the door. “It’s just a little something to help you relax. Come on. Rob sent me up here to get you.”
“Where are we going?” I asked. My mind was getting a little fuzzy.
“He called me, asked me to help. I’m taking you out of here before it’s too late.”
“But if I leave, the police--“
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll protect you.”
Together we rode the elevator. Liz helped me into her waiting car. Lyz, her twin, was sitting in the driver’s seat. The car’s engine was running. Clearly this had been planned. I had no idea why. I had no notion of what Liz and Rob were up to.
But that didn’t matter. Liz was my best friend. She had to be doing all of this for a good reason. She must be helping me.
Besides, Rob knew. He’d called her and asked her to help.
I flopped into the backseat and closed my eyes.
Darkness enveloped me. Soft. Comforting. Silent.
* * * * *
I woke up disorientated. Groggy. Dizzy. Very sleepy. I blinked a few times and took a look around, trying to get some bearing on where I was. I was in bedroom in someone’s home. Not a hotel. It was furnished with comfort in mind. Big bed. Soft down pillows. A dresser. A mirror. And a chair. The window shades were drawn. I had no idea if it was daytime or nighttime. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It said it was a little after nine. I made an attempt at sitting up but abandoned it when my head started spinning. The drugs were still kicking my ass.
Speaking of which, I was going to ask Liz why she’d drugged me as soon as I got a chance. But not now. Not yet. Too sleepy.
* * * * *
I didn’t realize I’d fallen back asleep until I woke up again. This time, as I slowly climbed out of the haze of a bizarre dream, I felt a little more alert. The drugs were wearing off. I sat up. My stomach did a little somersault. I thought I might throw up. But I didn’t. I cautiously pushed to my feet. My legs held my weight okay, but when I took a step the floor felt like it was slanted. I used the wall to steady myself. I shambled out into a hallway. Found a bathroom. Made use of it before continuing on. I didn’t recognize the house. It wasn’t Liz’s place. That much I knew. If I had to guess, I’d say it was probably the home of an elderly person. The wallpaper, the furnishings, the decor were all very traditional, and more than a little outdated.
But what did that matter anyway? Right? Liz must have had a reason for moving me here.
Still very wobbly and foggy-headed I worked my way out to the living room. It was silent. No one there. I heard a sound, though, further back, in what looked to be a family room. I headed that way.
Right away I noticed the gun lying on the coffee table. Although the police seemed to have been convinced I owned a gun, I had never held one. I stared at it, wondering how heavy it was. And I wondered why it was just lying there. Had Liz left it for me? I heard something. Outside. Sounded like dozens of heavy footsteps on gravel. Without thinking, I grabbed the gun and stuffed it in the waist of my jeans.
An instant later there was a huge, earsplitting bang. It came from the front door. I whirled around.
That’s when I saw the feet.
A woman’s feet.
They were pointing straight up, toward the ceiling.
Someone was lying on her back. Not moving.
“Freeze!” a man shouted behind me.
I spun around again, and for the second time in my life I was standing at the wrong end of a gun’s barrel. And the man holding the gun was a policeman.
The gun in my pants wasn’t going to look good.
I put my hands up and said, “I have a gun in my pants.”
“On the ground!”
I hit the ground as fast as I could. Something whizzed past my head as I was dropping, missing me. A split second later, there was a strange sound behind me. I looked. There was a hole in the wall?
The policeman hadn’t fired. Had he? I looked at him. He was staring at the hole like I had been a second ago. I heard another whizz, this one on my other side.
“Oh fuck!” The policeman clapped a hand over his heard and dropped to his knees.
Someone had shot the policeman?
What the hell?
I dove onto my belly and started crawling toward the wall, desperate for cover. Petrified, I scuttled as fast as I could while keeping as low as possible, not easy. And certainly not the quickest mode of transportation. But seeing how there were bits of drywall and furniture flying everywhere, it seemed to be the most effective. When I cleared the corner, I braved a squatted run, dashing past the lady lying on the floor and into the kitchen. The bullets seemed to have stopped. I hadn’t heard an impact in a few heartbeats. Hoping that was good news, that the would-be killer had given up and gone in search of another target, I sprinted as hard as I could for the door. I hit it, arms extended to absorb the shock. Outside, I stumbled down the concrete step, staggered out, one hand steadying me on the outside wall.
I ran into Liz just as I was about to creep around the front of the house.
“What’s going on?” she asked, eyes wider than I’d ever seen them.
“Kill. Someone. Cop. Whatthehell?” I said between gasps. Feeling sick, I doubled over.
“What? The police found you?”
“One.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.” I motioned toward the house with my head. “So is some lady. Maybe the owner of the house.”
“What? No.” Liz started toward the front door.
I stopped her by yanking on her arm. “Can’t go in there. Especially after being arrested. What if they blame you for it all?”
“But that’s my aunt in there.”
“Your aunt? I didn’t know you had an aunt.”
“Neither did I until recently. She contacted me on Facebook.”
And now she was dead. Maybe. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you sure she’s dead?” Liz asked.
“Well, no.”
“Then I have to go in and check on her. She might need medical attention. Maybe she fell and hit her head?”
“We should call 9-1-1. Someone shot the cop.”
“You call 9-1-1.” Liz handed me her cell phone. “I’m going in.”
“There could be a dead cop in there.”
“I don’t give a damn. I don’t have a gun, so how could anyone blame me?” She ran inside.
I said a few curse words then followed her.
She was stooped over the woman--dead? Alive?--when I found her. Then she straightened up and looked at me.
“Is she?” I asked.
“She is. You did this, you bitch! You shot my dear old aunt Mary.”
“What?”
Liz pulled a gun out of her jacket and pointed it at my head. “That’s what I’m going to tell the police when they get here. That you shot my aunt and the policeman and then you tried to shoot me.”
“Huh? Why would you tell anyone that?”
“Did you call 9-1-1 yet?” she asked.
I was confused, but gradually, slowly the pieces started to fall into place. “You killed her, didn’t you?”
“Me? No.” Liz shook her head. “I swear. I wouldn’t kill an innocent old lady.”
“That was me,” Lyz said, stepping into the kitchen through the side door.
Now the pieces were all snapping into place. “Then you killed the cop,” I said, pointing at my former best friend.
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have killed him if he’d shot you, like I was expecting. Where’s the gun?”
“What gun?” I asked, hoping my clueless act was at least semi-convincing.
Her gaze flicked to the table. “It’s not where I left it. You must have it.”
“No, I don’t. Maybe som
eone else found it. Maybe the policeman found it.”
“Just kill her,” Lyz said, sneering. “I’m hungry. I want to get out of this dump and get something to eat.”
“I will,” Liz snapped. “When I’m ready.”
“Why kill me?” I asked.
“Life insurance,” Lyz volunteered. “Now, can we get this over with?”
“I don’t have any life insurance,” I pointed out.
“Yes, you do,” Lyz said. “You’ve got a big, fat, juicy policy. Liz bought it. Hmmm. I think I want a steak tonight. All this blood is making me hungry for meat.”
“That’s just disgusting,” I said. My stomach convulsed.
“Shut the hell up,” Liz said to her partner. “Go wait in the car.”
“Fine. I’ll go wait. But if you’re out in three, I’m coming in and doing it myself.” She disappeared, leaving me with Liz for what was supposed to be the last three minutes of my life. In the distance I heard sirens. I hadn’t called 9-1-1. I wondered if the dead cop had called for backup. I hoped he had.
“Will you tell me one thing before you shoot me?” I asked.
“I guess.” She didn’t look too thrilled, but hey, she was about to take my life. It was the least she owed me.
“Why would you kill anyone?”
“I grew up in a shitty house, in a shitty neighborhood where it was eat or be eaten. I wasn’t going back to that.”
“You have a great job--“
“Lost it. Months ago.”
“Unemployment--“
“Gone. They cut me off.”
“What about another job?”
“I’ve been trying since I was laid off.” Her hand, the one holding the gun, shook. “I couldn’t get a job at fucking McDonald’s for minimum wage.”
“So you...what?”
“I moved in with the old lady, took a little bit of money. Then Lyz killed her so she couldn’t talk.”
“So it’s all for money?”
“Survival,” she corrected as she lifted the gun to my head. “If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t my idea to kill you. But I said I’d do it so that you wouldn’t feel any pain. Lyz likes to kill her victims slowly. She’s a real bitch.”
I nodded, trying to play the part of the understanding, grateful victim. “Will you give me a few seconds? I’m scared. I’d like to say a prayer.”
She sighed. Something flashed in her eye. Regret? “A few seconds.”
“Thanks.” I squeezed my eyelids shut, pretending to pray, grabbed the gun out of my pants, pointed it at her, squeezing the trigger as my hand swept in a wide arc across the front of my body. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. Liz looked down, smacked a hands over her stomach, dropping the gun, then looked at me. “Survival,” I said as tears blurred my vision.
Liz staggered a few steps, turned around, shuffled across the kitchen toward the door, lurched through it. Outside, I heard a man’s voice, shouting. A second later, someone was barreling through the front door. I dropped the gun on the floor and spun around.
Rob took one look at me, charged like a bull across the room, swept me in his arms, and held me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. “Dammit, I thought I’d lost you.”
“Thank God you’re here.”
He kissed the top of my head.
“Rob.”
He backed away just enough to cup my cheeks and kiss me until I felt like I was floating.
“I need to tell you something,” I said.
He gave me another rib-cracking hug.
“I shot Liz.” A sob ripped up my throat.
“It’s okay. She’s on her way to the hospital by now.” He smoothed his hand down my back.
“But--“
“Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here. I won’t leave your side. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever. You mean everything to me. More than my business. More than life.” And he kissed me again, pouring all the emotions he was struggling to say into the kiss. Despite promises to a certain Someone that I’d live the celibate life of a nun, I kissed Rob back, telling him everything that I couldn’t say with words. That I loved him. That I needed him. That I wanted him at my side now, tomorrow, forever.
A small flood of policemen charged in, some streaming through the front door, others the back. Some were holding cameras. One made a beeline for me. But I wasn’t afraid. Not any longer. I had Rob at my side. My strength. My rock. My hero.
On one perfect sun-shiny spring morning my life had changed. But for the better. Yes, most definitely for the better.
And as for that promise, I was hoping there was some room for negotiation....
The End
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*****
Please turn the page for a special sneak preview of Please enjoy this special sneak peak of Sydney’s contemporary romance novel, Rescue Me, available now.
An Excerpt From RESCUE ME
Copyright © SYDNEY ALLAN, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Novel Mind Books
She's does all the rescuing. But love has a way of changing everything.
Hailey Jensen is in the rescue business--animal rescue--and more than willing to risk life and limb for fowl or fauna. Just when life couldn't get better, her world crumbles. Her identical twin has cancer, and her marine rescue is failing before it even gets started. Lacking coping skills, she takes refuge behind sarcasm and solitude.
But, thanks to Dr. Rainer Hartmann, her sister's friend and a man who mistakes overbearing control for helping, she finds herself on the opposite end of the control stick. A wildly independent woman, Hailey fights with the determination of a bulldog as Rainer struggles to drag her out of despair...and into his arms.
* * * * *
A deep voice sounded in Hailey's ear, easing its way into her dreams. It called her name, and only then did she realize she was sleeping and opened her eyes.
Rainer's worried gaze greeted her. Not liking his expression, she glanced around the room. It was dark. Ebony stripes cut between the slats of the window blinds. When Rainer leaned back, she sat up.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Late. Almost eleven. You've been sleeping for hours. I got a little worried. Sorry for waking you up. Do you want to go back to sleep?"
"I'm fine. Jetlag, I guess."
"I'm about to turn in. I have a full day at the office tomorrow. Before I go, do you want me to get you anything? Some tea?"
"Maybe. Do you have anything stronger?"
"Stronger, like how much stronger?"
"Something fermented, maybe?"
He smiled, but his eyes still reflected the concern she'd seen earlier. "I have some wine."
"Perfect."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"No. But, after I have some of that wine I will be."
"I'll be right back."
After he left, she stood, went to her suitcase, which sat on top of the dresser, and rummaged for some sweatpants, a tank top and a sweatshirt. With clothes in hand, she went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, dressed, and let her hair out of her lopsided ponytail.
She shook her head, studying her reflection in the mirror. Sleeping for hours hadn't done a bit of good. She looked as bad as she had before. Maybe worse. Nearly as dead as she felt.
Rainer called her, and she went out to meet him, not surprised to see he held two glasses in one hand. He raised a dark bottle. "Burgundy?"
"At this point, I'd settle for cooking wine."
He sat on the bed, and she sat next to him, taking the glasses. The bottle was already uncorked. He poured the deep red liquid into the glasses, then set the bottle on the nightstand.
"Toast? I'm not in the mood for a toast."
"Okay. I propose a toast, then. How about to healing?"
"To healing." She raised her glass, then brought it to her mouth, purposefully avoiding inhaling it's spicy fragrance. She wasn't a drinker. Didn't even like wine. But, she desperately wanted to feel alive, warm, something...anything. Wine did that. Didn't it?
The first mouthful burned her throat, and she almost spit it out as she struggled not to cough. "Potent stuff," she sputtered.
"It's not cooking wine," Rainer said with a smile. "Not much of a drinker?"
"Nope."
"Well, let me take that from you, then." He leaned toward her.
"Nope." She jerked the glass away before he took it, then drank fast, forcing the liquid down her throat.
Nearly an instant flush heated her face. She thrust the empty glass toward him. "More, please."
He shook his head. "I don't think you need more."
"Look. I'm an adult. I can handle myself, thank you. Now, give me more wine, or I'll go out and buy my own."
"Okay." He swallowed the last gulps of his, then handed his empty glass to her before filling them both again. "What should we toast to this time?" he asked, setting the bottle down and taking his glass from her.
"How about to rescues?"
"Rescues?"
"Don't ask. Just drink."
He shrugged and sipped his wine. She swallowed hers as fast as her throat would allow. It tasted better this time, she realized, licking a droplet clinging to the rim. Exactly the right combination of sweet and dry.
Yes, very tasty.
Within minutes, the room grew stifling. She nudged Rainer in the shoulder. "Take this will ya?" She handed him her glass.
"Had enough?"
"Nope. Just hot. Need to get outta this sweatshirt. She tugged the heavy garment over her head. The world tipped, and she lost her balance, bumping into Rainer. A smirk on his face made her bristle. "What?"
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