Serving Up Trouble

by Jill Shalvis

  She wished she could take the phone out of her pocket and tell him directly, but she was afraid to do that, afraid to alert Ellie to the fact help was hopefully only moments away from charging in here.

  And knowing Sam, he would charge in here. He’d put his own life on the line for hers. The thought made her throat tighten un bearably, and she moved very care fully, very purposely, telling herself she would do whatever it took to keep him safe. Alive.

  “There are other customers in here,” she said with what she thought was re mark able calm. “Ellie, someone is going to see you.”

  “Oh, no, they won’t. I shooed out the only other customer I had when I over heard your phone conversation with your big, nosy cop. I knew it was time, even though I wasn’t quite ready. You’ll have to pay for that, too, as that other customer had a nice armful of books she never got the chance to pay for. You just keep racking up the debt to me.”

  Another hard jab of the gun to her back, and Angie bit her tongue rather than give Ellie the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

  “Keep walking,” Ellie said sharply. “Behind the counter, that’s a girl. Now into the office you go.”

  Angie put her hand on the door handle but hesitated, biting her lip through another malicious jab of the steel. “It’s not too late, Ellie. Whatever you’ve done, it’s not too late.”

  “You’re right about that. Move along.”

  George was there behind a desk, head bent over some paperwork. When Angie walked in, he looked up and went pale as a ghost. “Ellie, no!”

  “Oh, not you, too,” Ellie said in disgust. She propelled Angie into a chair. “It’s done, so don’t start.”

  George rose to his feet, looking shaky. “But taking a hostage? And our own little Angie? That was never discussed. I won’t be a part of it.”

  “You already are, so sit back down and be quiet while I think a moment.”

  To Angie’s dismay, George did as his wife said, just sat back down, looking as if a good wind would blow him over if he didn’t.

  Ellie started to pace. “Why couldn’t you be scared off?” she demanded of Angie. “Anyone else would have gotten the message.”

  “So it was you?” It all seemed so far-fetched. Ridiculous. “In my apartment? Making those calls? The holdup at the bank?”

  “Not the bank.” Ellie made another lap around the office, being careful to keep the gun trained on Angie. “But that started the whole thing.”

  Had it been seven minutes yet? It certainly felt like it. It felt like a lifetime.

  “It’s where you met your cop. Decided to have a life-altering experience and solve his case.”

  “But what does that have to do with you?”

  “That suspect you wanted so badly? He’s the only employee who ever earns me any money.” She said this with a disgusted look toward George. “Tommy’s my son.”

  On the outside, Ellie looked like the same woman as always, every hair in perfect place in its twist. Lipstick on. Sweater set without a wrinkle.

  But her eyes were different, lit with a cruelty Angie had never noticed before. “Your son? Your son is a criminal?”

  Ellie locked the gun on Angie so quickly her head spun.

  “Now, Ellie, let’s calm down,” George interrupted. “She was just surprised—”

  “Oh, shut up.” Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Just shut up and let me think.”

  To Angie’s disappointment George once again seemed to sink into himself and refused to look at her. Ellie continued her pacing. Each time the woman briefly turned away, Angie wondered if she had the courage to leap after her. She could do it. She still didn’t believe Ellie would shoot anyone in cold blood, even if she appeared to have lost her marbles.

  Ellie made another round.

  Then another.

  The next one, Angie promised herself. I’ll leap, tackle her down and wrestle the gun free. Her heart started to pound, her every muscle quivered as Ellie paced toward her.

  Come on, one more turn.

  “You just couldn’t give it up,” Ellie said in disgust. “You had to keep pushing and pushing for information. You were bound and determined to get Tommy in trouble.”

  Two more steps and she’d make another turn.

  “Pushing and pushing,” Ellie kept muttering, and then she spun on her heel to begin another round of pacing.

  Standing up, Angie took a flying leap.

  George cried out, a warning to Ellie, an encouragement to Angie, she’d never know which. But at the sound, Ellie whipped around.

  With Angie in mid flight, Ellie aimed and fired.

  The echo of the blast deafened. And everything switched to slow motion.

  Angie’s fall to the floor.

  The unspeakable burning ripping through her.

  She might have even cried out, but her ears weren’t working any better than her motor reflexes. She hurt more than she could have imagined, and her hand slipped into her pocket as she fell, cupping the cell phone as if she could gain some comfort from Sam that way.

  Could he still hear?

  She hit the floor hard but didn’t feel it. Maybe it was shock, but she lay where she landed, holding the phone, her lifeline, as an odd warmth came over her.

  Then everything started to fade to black.

  At the un mistakable sound of the gun going off, Sam’s heart all but stopped.

  “What is it?” Luke asked as he drove the crowded streets at a wincing speed.

  “I think she’s been shot.” Sam strained to hear some thing from Angie.

  And got nothing. Instead he heard George, who appeared to be ranting and raving at Ellie.

  “Anything?” Luke demanded, simultaneously talking to dispatch.

  Unable to speak, Sam shook his head. He didn’t want to believe it, but his gut was always right.

  Angie had been shot.

  Luke let out a string of obscenities that would have impressed Sam at any other time, and finally screeched into the parking lot of the book store. “Let’s go.”

  Sam stared down at his cell, horrified in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. If he’d lost her…my God. He couldn’t even think it.

  “Sam.” This was accompanied by a hard shake, and Sam blinked Luke into focus.

  “We’re armed and we have backup on the way. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He was right. Sam had to be able to shift this aside. He had to focus if he was going to function in there as a cop.

  “Sam.”

  “Yeah.” He shook his head, blew out a hard breath and very purposely put the thought of Angie, bloody and lifeless, out of his head.

  “Better,” Luke said, eyes sharp. “Now. You ready? Really ready?”

  A grim calm came over Sam and he checked his gun. “Ready.”

  Chapter 13

  They entered the eerily silent store with guns drawn. “The office,” Sam said to Luke. “That’s where they took her.”

  Luke nodded, and they made their way through an aisle that had a handful of books on the floor of the otherwise in credibly neat store. Sam stared down at the books and knew that’s where Angie had been. Right there, kneeling, innocently browsing. Fists clenched, he moved faster, behind the counter, toward the closed office door.

  No sound came from behind it.

  Expecting the worst, Sam and Luke charged into the office, guns drawn. Sam was deadly calm. He was a cop.

  Just a cop.

  And this was a job, a job he knew well. He would do what it took, whatever it took, to insure the hostage’s safety. Assuming she was still alive.

  For a brief flash, his heart cracked, and the image of Angie came to him, sweet and loving and…dead. This he ruthlessly put aside. He couldn’t function if he put her face to this night mare, he just couldn’t.

  Then he saw her. She was sitting on the floor, her sweater covered in blood.

  Next to her was Ellie, trussed with rope
and a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth.

  Above them both stood George, holding a gun on his struggling, furious wife.

  At the sight of Sam and Luke standing in the doorway, guns trained on him, George went from disgruntled husband to cool criminal, and shifted his aim to Angie.

  Her glasses had slipped off, and besides the fact she was squinting uselessly, she was also wildly bleeding. She had a hand over the spot and as Sam watched, she weaved as if she were going to topple over.

  “Don’t come any closer,” George said amicably.

  “She’s shot,” Sam said hoarsely. “Let me—”

  “No.”

  But Sam started to move closer anyway, his mind only on Angie.

  “Stay right where you are,” George said very coolly. “Unless you want her to take another one.” George nodded when Sam stopped short. “Yeah. Wise move.”

  Sam’s gaze flickered over Angie. So much blood. And God, she was pale, so very pale. But her beautiful brown eyes were right on him, squinting with the lack of glasses, but definitely locked on him. Trusting.

  Full of love.

  His own burned. “Let’s just let her out of here, okay? She can take an ambulance ride and we’ll figure the rest out without her.”

  “Nope.” George never shifted, never showed an ounce of nerves. “But I’ll tell you what. If you stop moving toward me, she’ll live. Don’t underestimate me now, I mean it. You might think I look harmless, but believe me, I’m good and pissed—” he glared at his wife, who screamed in frustration from behind the handkerchief and stomped her trussed-up feet “—and just about ready to see how good my old aim is.”

  Sam noted George’s hand didn’t shake at all, and figured his aim might be just fine. “Put the gun down.”

  “I don’t think so.” Slowly and purposely George cocked the gun, the noise echoing into the room.

  Ellie continued to fight her bonds and make a terrible noise behind her restraints.

  “Ellie, shut up or I’ll shoot you next.”

  Ellie shut up.

  “Good girl. You know, I’m really tired of this, damn tired. I should just shoot all of you and be done with it.”

  Sam kept his eyes on Angie. He’d give his own life to be able to scoop her close and hold on forever. He knew cops would be streaming all over the place in a matter of minutes. It wouldn’t be long before Angie would be safe. “Talk to us,” he said. “We know this is about the identity-theft ring. And your son.”

  “It is,” George agreed. “How long have you known?”

  “Not long enough to stop you.”

  “All I ever wanted was to have enough money to go live on a beach some where with a stack of good books,” George said wistfully.

  “So you started stealing other people’s money.”

  “Stealing is rather harsh.” George looked insulted. “Let’s call it borrowing. Used their credit a bit, it’s really just a temporary thing.”

  Ellie started squirming again, and George shook his head. “Not for my wife though.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “She’s greedy, folks, and I’m not ashamed to tell you, it’s getting on my nerves. We started this whole thing simply to retire. And then she wanted more. Always more.”

  George looked at Angie and made a little grimace. “And you, you just couldn’t let it go. You might think getting held up in that bank was the worst thing that ever happened to you, but in truth, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

  Angie looked at Sam, gave him one of those just-for-him looks that had melted him from the very first day. And he gave it back to her, or tried. He had no idea if he was even close, as he’d never tried to tell a woman anything with only his eyes before.

  Hers filled, so he figured he came close enough.

  “You’re worse than a bloody hound dog,” George continued to Angie. “I never wanted you hurt though.” He took in all the blood and winced. “I just wanted to stop paying my son to dig through people’s trash for credit information. I wanted to be done falsifying and duplicating documents in order to charge against accounts that didn’t belong to me. I had enough money, damn it, but she just wouldn’t stop. Nag, nag, nag. She always wanted more.” He sent another dark look to his wife. “I want to be done living with a shrew who harps on me for every little thing. I want that beach, the books…that’s it. That’s all. Happy ever after.”

  “You got more than that on your hands now,” Sam assured him. “You’ve got a record. You’re a criminal, and so is your wife and your kid. You’re going to have to pay.”

  “I won’t go to jail.”

  “Cooperating would be good,” Luke suggested. “It would help. You can start by letting Angie out of here to get the medical attention she needs.”

  “How about you let me out of here. In exchange, Angie and Ellie.”

  Behind her bonds, Ellie growled and thrashed around, making George lift his hand to point out she’d proved his point. “See? She’s a night mare. She’s the one who used the gun on Angie. Keep her and let me go. That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”

  And in that moment, Sam knew there wasn’t going to be an easy out. George wasn’t going to give up and surrender.

  Luke looked at him and in his eyes, Sam saw the same knowledge. As always, they were on the same page. All they had to do was get George’s gun off Angie long enough that Sam could take him down without risking more shots.

  But then Angie’s eyes fluttered, and with what looked like a huge effort, she blinked, trying to stay focused on him.

  His sense of urgency, already screaming, increased a mil lion fold.

  They were losing her right here, right now.

  Angie wouldn’t have agreed. Sure, there were spots dancing in front of her eyes. Large gray spots that made focusing a challenge, but she was all there.

  The unbelievable searing pain in her body proved it. She didn’t dare look down, as the sight of blood always made her weak. Just last week she’d given herself a paper cut deep enough to draw blood and, much to Josephine’s disbelief, she’d actually had to sit down with her head between her knees.

  Nope, she wasn’t going to look.

  But she hadn’t imagined anything could hurt so bad. She almost preferred passing out, but if she did, she couldn’t keep her eyes on Sam. And she did have her eyes on the man, terrified that he’d somehow get himself killed right in front of her.

  He was looking at her, too, as if he wanted to both haul her close and yell at her for getting hurt.

  That was her Sam.

  Then she realized he was silently communicating some thing to her. He needed her help.

  He needed her.

  She found that a good feeling. Being needed by the strongest man she’d ever known. She could get used to that.

  His eyes were still on her, calm and steady, and she nodded. He was going to let her have a hand in their fate. Trusting him implicitly, she waited, knowing they could do this. Together.

  But she hoped he acted fast because her body felt as if it was on fire. She wasn’t going to make it much longer. Struggling, she tried to get up.

  “Stop,” George said when she was on her knees, weaving wildly. “Don’t move again.”

  A dizzy nauseousness rolled through her belly. “Not moving,” she said. She couldn’t move again, at least not without throwing up.

  “I mean it,” he said in a light voice that he might have used to chat over tea. “I’ll shoot you in the thigh this time.”

  Angie believed him. But at least she was up on her knees now, not helpless, and wouldn’t ever be again.

  “George,” Sam said, continuing to look into Angie’s eyes with an expression that made her breath catch. “There’s one thing you’ve for gotten.”

  “Of course there’s not,” he said, and for one flash took both his eyes and gun off Angie to glance at Sam.

  Now, Sam’s eyes told her, and with every ounce of courage she had, she tossed herself to the side and out of the way. So
meone screamed, but then her hearing faded.

  Except for the scream, that is, which annoyingly enough, went on and on and on, echoing in her head.

  Sam took a flying leap at George. They landed hard, and rolled.

  And rolled.

  Then the gun went off. Angie knew this because her hearing came back for that one explosion, then vanished again.

  Then men were spilling into the room from the door, from the window, and her vision was blocked.

  Surreal time took over, just like at the bank. She was jostled when Ellie started to struggle anew, her face red with rage.

  Angie thought maybe she cried out because she hurt so badly. Sam. Where was Sam?

  A uniformed man knelt by her, and though his mouth was moving, she couldn’t hear him.

  Get out of my way, she wanted to say. I can’t see Sam.

  But the pain crept up on her now and she couldn’t get rid of it, couldn’t speak. Only a few moments before, with the adrenaline pumping through her body, she’d been able to forget the pain for a few seconds at a time. Not now. It clawed through her like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  “Sam,” she managed.

  Someone, several someones, she thought fuzzily, urged her to lie down. One of them ripped the material at her shoulder, jarring her, and she cried out because, while she couldn’t hear and could hardly see, she sure as hell could feel, and her entire body was on fire.

  Why was that again?

  “It’s bad.”

  “Keep her still.”

  “I’m putting pressure on the wound.”

  “Lots of blood.”

  Then the men hunched over her were shoved aside, and Sam dropped to his knees with the most intense expression she’d ever seen on his face, and she’d seen plenty.

  He was looking at her body, doing some thing, pressing in a way that made her stars dance faster, brighter. “Angie.”

  Oh, that voice, she thought dreamily, feeling herself smile. She would never get tired of that voice. She closed her eyes to hear it better.

  “Angie. God.”

  She opened her eyes. “We did it, didn’t we? We caught the bad guys.”

  “Yes. Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” His voice was lower than normal, and full of agony as he gently scooped her close to him with his free hand, the other still pressing hard near her collarbone.