Fugitive Heart

by Bonnie Dee

  The dark circles under her eyes pissed him off. These damned Espositos didn’t belong in her little town—and he’d led them straight to her house.

  “Rossi, what the fuck you doing?” Phil called.

  Asking for trouble was the answer. He trudged back toward Phil and Les. Bert walked next to him, too close. “Your friend Jensen turned out to be a real smooth character,” Bert said quietly.

  “I know.”

  “Had me fooled and made me look really bad. I don’t like that. Not with my father on my ass all the time. I don’t want to give Pop any excuse and Jensen just handed him a great reason to give me a load of shit.”

  “Yeah. Elliot’s turned out to be a pain in the ass for me too.”

  “Where exactly is the stuff we came for?” Phil gestured to the house with his gun, and Ames gave a small cry of alarm. She must not have noticed the gun before. Nick turned back. He wished he could yell at her, This is why you should have stayed hidden.

  “We’re fine. No problem,” Nick called to her instead. Then he walked into the house and away from her, one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  He didn’t trust Les. He didn’t know Duffy well, and he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Ames.

  “She better be safe,” he said as they banged though the front door into the cold, dark house.

  “Sure, sure,” Bert said, uninterested.

  Nick led them to the kitchen table, where he’d stacked the cash in neat piles. “How much money did you say was missing?” he asked Bert. His old friend cut a quick glance at Phil and didn’t answer.

  Phil leaned down and started pawing through the cash. “Where’s the flash drive? The notebook?”

  “You let Ms. Jensen go, and I’ll tell you where it is.”

  “You’ll tell me,” Bert gently corrected.

  “I’ll tell you both.”

  “You might not think you have a dog in this fight, Nick, but you’re wrong.”

  Nick understood his point, and Bert was right. He was in danger if Les and Phil got custody of him. He raised both hands as if Bert had pulled a gun. “Okay. I appreciate the fact that you’re less…less likely to take extreme measures. But you and your dad have been squabbling for years, and I’ve seen what happens to people who pick sides. I’m not doing that. I’ll help you both. But you have to let her go and—”

  And that moment, a shot rang out.

  Ames should have listened to Nick and stayed hidden like a rabbit tracked by dogs. He’d watched her as they’d talked, and she knew he was worried about her. He had enough to worry about. She did too, now.

  But she’d seen the guys in the SUV and hated the way they’d stalked toward Nick.

  When the other car had come around the corner, she thought perhaps, if she warned them, they would take that into consideration. She couldn’t hide when there was trouble. After a long, painful moment of consideration, she didn’t take the gun. She didn’t like weapons and didn’t want to look as if she was an aggressor. A helpful neighbor, that’s all.

  She’d gone up to the car window and waited until the driver, a big hulk of a man with a nose that looked crooked and flat, lowered the window. The man next to the driver gave her a pleasant, warm smile.

  The hulk looked more dangerous, so she’d talked to him. “Hi, I’m so glad you’re here. I’m a little afraid. Some really scary guys”—who look kind of like you—“are up ahead on this road.”

  “Hello, Ms. Jensen,” the smaller one had called to her.

  That had been a bad moment, but he’d only gotten out of the car, shaken her hand, introduced himself as Bert and politely asked her if she had a gun before asking Duffy to do a quick search. “Just to make sure,” he’d said almost apologetically.

  She didn’t trust that cold-eyed Bert, but he’d actually seemed grateful as she dropped the neighbor thing and told him that she and Nick had found what he was looking for. “We’ll go find out,” he said. “All of us.”

  It had seemed like things were going all right until she was left behind with the skinny one called Les and big, bald Duffy.

  Once everyone else had gone into the house, those two had walked right up to each other—and unfortunately, she stood between them.

  “I kind of have to use the bathroom,” she told them. No lie. “Do you think we could just go inside for a minute or two?”

  They ignored her. The ugly look on Les’s face was chilling. What could happen to a man to make him wear an expression like that? At least he was staring at Duffy and not her.

  “How’s the bitch?” Les asked.

  “Jesus, you really are a pig.”

  “I guess you’re still living in the dark, aren’t you, asshole? You’ll find out.”

  Duffy sucked in an audible breath.

  For a moment, Ames thought they were talking about her. Then she realized these two had history—one that involved a woman. Les’s ex, maybe? Or maybe Duffy’s sister? His mother? A dog?

  Usually, she’d be sort of interested in the tension. Speculation about a situation might keep the Back Porch and Arnesdale buzzing for months, and though Ames tried not to care, she could get sucked into the drama as easily as anyone else.

  At the moment, and after another glance at Les, she decided she was glad these two left her out of the conversation.

  She tried to slide out from between the two glaring men. “I think I’ll just go to—”

  Les seized her arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Duffy grabbed her other arm, almost as hard. He sneered at Les. “You know that’s your problem, asshole. You never treat women with respect.”

  Les’s grip tightened. He pulled her hard so she had to move toward him, but Duffy didn’t move an inch.

  “Um, you guys? You’re hurting me?”

  They paid no attention to her. A shriek formed in her throat, but she swallowed it when she realized they might hear her in the house. That wasn’t going to help matters. She tried to tug her arm out of Duffy’s grip.

  Les scared her more, but at least he was closer to her size. Putting her body into the motion, she gave a sharp yank away from Les, then yelped as pain radiated through her shoulder.

  Les stumbled forward, bouncing into her, and then both of them collided with Duffy.

  The two hoods let go of her so fast she stumbled and fell. Then the men were on each other, yelling, punching and kicking.

  Duffy pulled out his gun. Les grabbed his wrist. Ames rolled and scrambled away from them on her hands and knees. The gravel bit into her skin, but she didn’t want to stand and make herself a bigger target.

  Duffy’s gun popped with a sharp report that made her jump. She felt rather than heard herself scream. A few seconds later, shouts came from the house. Nick appeared on the porch. But the shouts seemed to echo back from the road. A lot of voices.

  She looked up the road and there were Jake, Gopher, Dennis Phillips, all running around the curve, some on the road, some cutting over the field toward her, toward the house. Marty, in her uniform, trotted along with the rest.

  “Watch out, they have guns!” Ames shouted to Jake and the others, but then noticed several of the people rounding the curve in the road had guns or rifles too.

  Nick leaped off the porch and sprinted toward her.

  Les lay on his back, clutching his leg and screaming. Duffy got to his feet unsteadily. He still held the gun.

  Gopher aimed a shotgun. “Drop it, scumbag.” Before Duffy could move, Gopher’s gun boomed.

  “Sonofabitch!” Duffy screamed. The pistol flew out of his hand as he stumbled backward and fell.

  Ames’s head spun and her stomach lurched. Nobody is supposed to die. But Duffy was still cursing loud enough to be heard over Les’s whimpering.

  “It’s only eight-shot,” Gopher called. “I been dove hunting.”

  Before Ames could react to any of this, decide whether she should run or stay put or get the hell out of Gopher’s way before he filled her with
buckshot, Nick plowed into her. His arms went around her, and he literally swept her off her feet and into a crushing hug.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. No. You’re killing me,” she wheezed. “Let go.”

  He put her back on her feet and loosened his hold but still held her tight, and she liked that—a lot—despite the ache in her shoulder from being used in a tug-of-war between the two fighting idiots.

  “What happened in the house?” she asked.

  “Bert got what he came for. He and Phil were fighting over who’d take possession of it when the yelling and shooting started. Bert’s a smart guy. He didn’t stick around to have a shootout with local law enforcement. He took off out back.”

  “Good. Maybe Bobby Brown will catch him then.”

  Nick looked confused. “The rapper?”

  “No, the deputy. I saw him running along with Jake toward the back of the house.”

  Before Ames could add any more, another pair of arms seized her. Marty, smelling of fry grease and cinnamon buns, hugged her from behind. “Are you all right? Oh my God, Ames, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me what was going on. We tell each other everything!”

  Trust Marty to immediately move from friendly caring to a why’d-you-leave-me-out-of-the-loop? complaint.

  Marty ended the sandwich hug and stood back. “Jake told us everything, and we believed him ’cause that scary guy—not this guy.” She spared a glance at Nick. “Another, different one—had just left the diner. So Gopher and me and some of the other early risers who were already there for breakfast all came to check on you.”

  “With guns. In the dark. You could’ve all been shot.”

  “Well, Bobby sure couldn’t handle it alone. He’s just one man, and these are professional criminals, Jake says. Jeez, Ames, don’t be ungrateful.”

  “I’m not. Thank you.” She reached out to take Marty’s hand, and suddenly Nick was letting her go and jogging toward the house.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “Around back to check on the deputy and Jake. They might need my help.”

  Gopher and Dennis had the two goons facedown in the gravel and were trussing their hands behind their back with rope. Ames fleetingly wondered how they’d managed to come so prepared, but then she trotted past them and caught up with Nick at the corner of the house.

  She ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare. You’re going to walk right into a gunfight and get yourself killed. Let Bobby handle it. He’s really not that bad at his job, and he’s got Jake for backup. You stay with me. I’m serious.”

  For a moment, Nick resisted her grip, no doubt determined to do the macho-male thing and assume no one could handle anything without him. But then he stopped trying to pull away from her. “I can’t believe this. All these townspeople popping up out of nowhere. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s Arnesdale. Everybody’s always up in your business, but sometimes that turns out to be a really good thing.”

  All of a sudden, Ames’s legs buckled. The adrenaline she’d been operating on seemed to evaporate from her system, leaving her weak and jittery. I could have been killed. Nick could have been killed. Any one of the gang from the diner could have been killed. Killed! As in “shot through the heart”, and not in a song-lyric kind of way.

  Nick caught her as she slipped toward the ground. “Whoa! Are you all right? Were you hit?” He started patting her all over, searching for a hidden wound.

  “Just noodle legs. Let me catch my breath and I’ll be all right.” She clung to his solid strength and breathed him in. “It was kinda scary,” she admitted, glancing toward the two criminals who’d held her captive. “Even if they did seem more dopey than lethal.”

  “Trust me. Both those guys could be plenty lethal. It’s their job, and they’d shoot somebody with no more qualms than if they were running any other errand for their bosses.”

  “Speaking of… I wonder if those guys got away.”

  As if in answer to her thought, another gunshot rang out, making Ames jump and grab on to Nick even tighter. “Oh God.” She pictured Jake or Bobby sprawled on the ground—still and bleeding.

  A moment later, Jake rounded the corner, pale and retching. He wiped his sleeve across his face. Ames and Nick broke apart and hurried toward him.

  “What happened?”

  “They were digging around in the woods. Bobby shot one guy, but the other one ran off. Bobby went after him.”

  “Which guy got shot?” Nick asked, and Ames remembered that he’d once been buddies with Bert Esposito.

  “He’s dead.” Jake continued to scrub at his cheek with his jacket sleeve, smearing red down his jaw. “His head exploded. Right on me. I’ve never seen anybody die before, except my grandpa, but that was, you know, in a hospital bed.”

  Ames put an arm around him, and Nick helped Jake stagger over to the front porch and lowered him down. “I’ll get you some water.” He disappeared into the house, while Ames urged Jake to put his head between his knees and breathe.

  “What’s going on?” Marty joined them. “Did Bobby get the bastards?”

  “One of them,” Ames answered. She looked over to Gopher and Dennis, who were driving their trussed-up prisoners toward the vehicles. Citizen’s arrest. She had to suppress a giddy laugh at the crazy sight of the locals herding the thugs along like cattle. There was nothing funny about any of this, she reminded herself.

  Nick returned with several bottles of water, which he passed around. Ames hadn’t even thought about being thirsty, but she gulped the bottle down until the cheap plastic crumpled. Immediately, she started to feel better.

  Footsteps crunched on the gravel, and Officer Bobby emerged from the darkness. His face was as pale as Jake’s, but his hands were steady as he holstered his gun.

  “Gopher and Dennis took the other guys to your squad car,” Marty announced.

  “Good.” Bobby nodded. He turned to Nick. “One of the perps got away. You want to come and identify the other? If you can.” Bobby pulled in a deep breath but recovered fast. “And then I’m going to have some questions for both you and Ames.”

  The wail of an approaching siren and red lights flashing through the trees heralded the arrival of an ambulance and another squad car.

  Then things got pretty official fast, even if the Back Porch patrons stayed and milled around. Yellow crime tape was strung around the yard, the other two cops in town walked around taking notes, and the EMTs carted off the dead body of Mobster Number One, which meant Bert was still at large.

  Ames and Nick were ushered into the backseat of one of the other squad cars. Ames felt completely disoriented and fragmented, not to mention exhausted. So much had happened in so little time. This morning was surreal, and she thought about the customers who’d be stopping by the Back Porch expecting their breakfasts and finding no one there to serve them.

  As they waited alone in the back of the cop car, she inched closer to Nick and rested her head on his chest. He mumbled something.

  “What?”

  “Clusterfuck,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Ames.”

  “No, no. You kept your promise. I’m fine.”

  “Most of Arnesdale did that, not me.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “And thank God for Arnesdale. If Elliot came back here, he’d be safer here than anywhere else. I can’t imagine the Espositos will come back here in any big fat hurry.” He chuckled. “I wish you could have seen Bert’s face when he looked out the window and saw the crowd of people coming over the hill.”

  She sighed and snuggled in closer, soothed by the thump of his heartbeat, slow and steady. The danger had passed for now, but… “Will he keep coming after you?”

  Nick absently twirled one of her curls around his thumb. “He got what he came for—most of it, anyway. I told him we don’t know a thing about Elliot, and he believes me.”

  “Why do you think he believes you?”

  His hand on her hair stilled. “I know him. He
believes me.”

  “But what about his father? He seems to be the really dangerous one.”

  “Bert will fix it with Cesar.”

  Was he lying to make her feel safe again? She twisted so she could look into his face, and he smiled down at her. The warmth shining in his brown eyes made her feel more secure than any assurances about the Espositos backing off.

  She wanted more, so much more from him—but not enough to ignore this moment, safe and in his arms after the fear of the morning, when she’d thought they might both be killed. These seconds wrapped in his arms felt like a gift.

  At the station, Bobby and Ted guided Ames and Nick into separate interrogation rooms. Actually, one was the interrogation room; the other was a break room for the staff. Ames watched the coffeemaker dripping in the corner, and answered Ted’s questions to the best of her ability. She’d never meant to expose Elliot, but here she was anyway, and all she could do was tell the truth about her brother.

  “So, all you know is what this guy Nick told you? This story about Elliot stealing money and records? How do you know Nick isn’t part of it?”

  Ames shook her head. “I just do, but, uh, I don’t think I should really be talking to you without a lawyer.”

  Ted snorted. “Come on, Ames. This is me here. Just tell me the truth, and everything will be fine.”

  “Nevertheless.” Ames folded her arms and sat back in the metal chair. Time to clam up. She hoped Nick was doing the same. She’d watched enough TV shows to know that even if a person didn’t have anything to hide, whatever they said during questioning could come back to bite them in the ass later in court.

  “Fine. Whatever,” Ted said. “Want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks. My stomach’s too jumpy.” Again, Ames felt as if she was in a dream, switching from talk of criminal activities to mundane chitchat. “Honestly, Ted, I’m exhausted and kind of overwhelmed. Can I go home now? You guys can question me later. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Besides, I don’t even have a lawyer.