by Ann Raina
"Julian seems to know how to use his strength, hmm?" Sabrina arched her brows and Kyra understood that she had missed her statement in the first place.
"Yeah, he does."
"And you're not freaked by that…hunk when he's at your home?"
"No." Kyra held the mug with two hands and slowly, irresistibly, the minute of the fight returned as if seeing it in slow motion. How fast Julian had hit Manolito. How precise. One blow and the Mexican had been out cold. Faster than you could snap your fingers. And Tony would have wrestled her arm if Julian had not intervened. Again, his speed was marvelous. She swallowed. With that speed and control everything was possible. She thought of the hitman at her home. The broken nose had been a nasty souvenir, but could it have been worse? On purpose? Had Julian actually tried to kill the other man?
"I don't mind talking to my salad, but I wanted to inform you that you got an appointment in ten minutes."
Kyra surfaced from her thoughts to look at Sabrina who tapped a long nail on her watch her smile apologetic. "Yeah, sure. Sorry for not listening."
"I understand, my shoe parade can't compare to two hundred pounds of Mr. Bithrell." They exchanged a glance of mutual understanding and Sabrina stood. "Mr. Hurlington will wait for you in less than ten minutes."
"I'll be on deck."
"Sure." Sabrina left. Kyra drank coffee and decided to take the Danish pastry with her for the time after Mr. Hurlington's visit.
* * * *
"Are you all right?" Julian asked when they left the building. "You are…very pale."
"Thanks, but I'm fine. Long day, much trouble, many customers. I'll run a hot bath at home." She glanced at him. He walked beside her and, as usual, he tried to match his stride to her smaller steps. It was a friendly gesture she appreciated. "And you?"
"Is that a personal question and you want an honest answer?"
"Shall I better keep my mouth shut and say no?"
Julian flashed very white teeth to a very manly grin. "I'll tell you anyway. I would like to be the one using a sponge on your feet and legs and--"
"I get the image. Thank you." She shook her head, smiling. For a moment he touched her hand. It was a harmless gesture, nothing to worry about. Still Kyra felt electricity run up her fingers. Her heart sped up and her breathing accelerated. Her eyes flicked up to him, but he pretended he did not notice. Kyra took a breath. Heat crawled up her skin and she wished they were home already. They reached the car. She took out the key, and he moved to the rear side to get in.
A bullet shattered the window of the passenger side. Julian dived to the left before the glass settled on the seat. He thrust himself between two other parking cars and was out of sight. Kyra stood there, key in hand, purse pressed against her belly. Just a moment until her mind realized the danger. She dropped flat to the fender and slipped under the car, heart pounding. She could see Julian's feet somewhere to her left. He moved slowly through the rows of parked cars. She wanted to shout, stay down, but she could not. Her throat was constricted with fear. The hitman was back! And it was pure luck that he had missed her the second time.
Kyra lifted her head from the concrete to gaze upwards, but there was nothing. She could not see the parking area or the roof. She just lay there with her pulse wild in her throat and her hands clasped around purse and key. She did not dare move. If the killer was somewhere close he would come and get her. It would take him just half a minute to realize her hiding place and then he would be there. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She blinked, willed them away. Tears would not help. She had no weapon with her. Stupid. So stupid to leave the gun at home, but she had felt silly carrying it in her purse. Now it was too late.
Sirens wailed. Someone had been close enough to hear the shot and clearheaded to call the cops. Good thinking. She heard a TV drone, too. Its humming was unlike any other. Half of the city was covered with these oval objects, which were directed by the TV stations around Boston. Kyra hoped that the drone had caught an image of the shooter, but she was quite sure it was the same John Doe she had shot on her porch.
Slowly, carefully she climbed out from under the car. Julian was suddenly beside her--she had not heard him come.
"You can get out. He's gone." He helped her stand.
She shivered, but refused his hand and clung to the hood instead. "How do you know he's gone?" she asked when she found her voice again.
"He would have shot once more, wouldn't he?"
"Yes." Kyra put purse and key on the hood and pressed her palms on the warm metal, hanging her head. "He could have."
"But I'm sure he's gone."
"For now." Kyra took a deep breath, dried the tears on her cheeks and turned to the cops, who swarmed the parking lot with their guns drawn. She thought that it was much too late for any action now. Her father would be mad with her that she had remained in town and gone to work, her mother would be worried shitless and what would she do? Kyra swallowed the growing panic.
"Breathe slowly," Julian said. "You're hyperventilating."
"And that would be a bad thing right now."
"You could sit down."
"No." She knew she was stubborn, but Julian did not argue. He just stood close enough to catch her if she fell.
"Ms Jennings?" It was the new detective in charge, short, slender, dressed in clothes that seemed to belong to a larger person. He had short cropped brown hair that would curl if he let it grow, light brown eyes and a strict mouth. "I'm Detective Alberts. May I ask you a few questions?"
"Sure." She felt better. The killer had turned tail and she was safe once more. What a joke. "What do you want to know?"
"What happened?"
Kyra described their way from the shop to the car up to the moment she had taken cover and added, "The TV drone might have caught some images of him."
"I know. I already have one man make contact with the station. If there were pictures we'll have them before the prime time news." Alberts cocked his head and looked up to Julian. "And you are?"
"Julian Bithrell. I'm--"
"Yes, I can see what you are. What did you do? Out here? With her?"
"I took cover when the bullet hit."
Alberts glanced at his colleague searching for the bullet in the upholstery. "You just…moved aside?"
"Yes."
"And why are you here?"
"We were on the way home." Kyra knew without looking that Alberts would arch his brows.
The detective gazed up to the roof and checked the way the glass had shattered. A curt nod and he turned back to Kyra. "The hitman was on the roof. He had perfect aim. I know that you had been threatened before, Ms Jennings. Why didn't you take precautions?"
"You can only take so much precautions at a time, detective. If I had the roof checked every day he would have hidden somewhere else."
"Any idea why the killer wants to see you dead?"
"Not one."
"I see." He watched as the policeman on the driver side extracted the bullet. He squinted. "7.62 mm. Hmm, sniper rifle ammo." He pursed his lips. "This man knows his job and he's got the equipment."
"No need to scare her further," Julian said, his voice tinted with anger.
Alberts turned to him. "I did not ask you a question, Bithrell. I'm doing my job."
"And I tell you, she is scared enough for one day."
"I won't take any browbeating from a convict. Remember that. Or I might decide to take you to the station for a further interrogation."
"Stop!" Kyra said. She was on eye level with the detective and her anger rose to drown the fear. Very well. She could live with that. "First it's Mr. Bithrell for you, no matter what status he has, and second, I would very much like to go home now."
"Of course, just one more question. Mr. Bithrell, did you know this would happen?"
"Know?" Julian choked on the word. "How should I have known of it?"
Alberts was not distracted by his surprise. "That was my question. Did you know that someone would try to shoot
Ms Jennings?"
"No. I did not know."
"So you state that you did not initiate this assault to escape?"
"What…what are you saying?" Julian looked at Kyra for help, big eyes pleading. When she did not react he faced the detective again. "Sir, I work for Ms Jennings. I chose the program to escape prison. Not escape her."
"However," Detective Alberts glanced at Kyra and back to Julian, "it appears quite a coincidence that Ms Jennings becomes the victim of a burglary and an assault during the time you work for her." He stared at Julian, forcing him to give in, to confess.
"If you read the file correct," Kyra stated with all calmness she could muster, "Mr. Bithrell fought off the burglar before he could harm me."
Alberts shrugged. "Two crooks fighting about time and intention."
"That's…farfetched."
Alberts was unruffled. "Since you have no connections to people or business that might imply you to be a target, Ms Jennings, every question concerning the circumstances of both incidents is relevant."
"Very well. Now, Detective Alberts, I would like to leave. With Mr. Bithrell. If you don't have any further questions." She let the last sentence hang, waiting for the detective to either ask or step aside.
"Have you planned to go elsewhere than home tonight?"
"No, I have not. I will ask my friend to take us home and then I will stay home."
"A squad car can take you. I'll leave two men at your house for tonight."
"Thanks." Kyra took purse and key and left the parking lot, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. How could she? Her hands trembled and she felt weak and cornered.
"Do you have a weapon at home?" Julian asked.
"I won't tell you, so don't ask."
"Very well."
She glanced up to him, but found his face blank, unreadable. She wanted to know if he had not been scared the moment the bullet struck, but waited with the question until they were at her door. The squad car parked at the curb and the cop had told her that another car would patrol the area.
"Yes, I was scared," Julian stated when they got into the kitchen. "But I wasn't the target."
"He could've shot you. Accidentally, maybe."
"Are you trying to scare me?" He put a hint of humor in the question, but she did not take it.
"No. The bullet hit exactly the moment we were both at the door. He could have hit either one of us. And you stand here before me as if nothing happened. I'm still shaking."
"I can run the bath for you."
"No, you stay down here." He took a deep breath behind her. Kyra took out two mugs and put water in the electric kettle. "Take care of the tea, please." She turned to find him leaning against the center counter, legs crossed and his hands propped on the top. "Don't give me that look. Not tonight. I'm down and out for the count and I won't lead any discussions now."
"I won't discuss. You look dead on your feet, yes, so why don't you let me help? If I had planned any mischief I could have done so already."
"Maybe." She passed him by. On the way upstairs she thought about the moment of the attack. Julian had dived to the left. Instantly. Without thinking. He had not tried to cover her or take her with him. Maybe it was only like that in the movies, but she could not help being disappointed.
She took the telephone with her while she ran a bath. There was another thought coming to her mind and she did not like it, either. She had stood at her car for a moment. She did not know for how long, but it would have been enough for such a specialist to pull the trigger again. She could not imagine that his weapon had had a stoppage or that he had not dared a second shot. Two bullets had been within time limit, even if he had planned to disappear immediately. Kyra looked at the phone in her hand, but hesitated, still lost in thought. The bullet had hit in the upper third of the window. It would have hit her head or Julian's back. Either way, one of them would have been dead now.
CHAPTER 14
Captain Jennings had already frantically pulled all strings at the station to get a 24/7 watch on his daughter before she called him to say that she was all right. He tried not to accuse her, in fact he was polite, considering that he could have called her stubborn and careless. She would have taken the accusation lying down. Milton was right. Kyra should have run and the hitman would not have had another chance.
"You need something else to relax." Julian handed her the second mug of tea when she sat on the couch to watch the news. "Something to distract you."
"Maybe a good thrilling movie." She failed to sound funny. She was still shaking somewhere deep inside. It was the awful thought that the hitman had not been caught on the spot, no matter that the police had searched the area thoroughly. He had just vanished.
"Today an unknown hitman tried to kill business owner Kyra Jennings on the way to her car," the news reporter said while the pictures from the parking lot rolled. "He shot only once, missed Ms Jennings and disappeared. Police still don't have any clue of the killer or his whereabouts." The drone had captured the policemen covering the parking lot and, later, the specialists up the roof in search of evidence. "The detective in charge said that all kinds of leads would be followed, but so far no hint had been of any substance. This is a setback to all undertakings of police and other government forces to reduce crimes within the City of Boston. And it leaves to wonder--"
Kyra used the remote to shut off the TV set. "And they won't find any clues," she muttered. "He's a professional. He comes and leaves and chooses his next hit whenever he wants to. And no police or whoever will change that."
"That's quite a pessimistic view."
"What would you do if you were the target?"
Again Julian gave her a blank face and unreadable eyes. "I? I never thought about that. I guess I'd run and hide. Leave the city for a while. Until the dust settles."
She threw up her arms. "That could be a month! Two months! Would you truly run and hope that he doesn't follow? That guy seems to be determined enough to search for me and pull the trigger the moment he sees fit."
"He can't be everywhere. And by what you told me your father already made sure you'll be watched from now on."
"Great." She stood up, too restless to sit. "Not even presidents or the Pope have been secure from such assassins. It's vain to think about absolute security. Maybe he'll wait another week or two until the cops think, okay, it's over, he's gone or…discouraged. And then he'll strike again." She rubbed her arms, frowning. "I just can't understand what makes me a target, y'know? I'm a nobody. I run an average business, but aside from that? Nothing. No big money or connection to the brass. Why did you drop to the left as if you'd known what to do?"
She got him. Julian was startled. "What?"
"You heard me right. You were extremely fast."
"I just dropped for cover. I thought…I thought you were a cop once. That you'd do the same."
"I did, but the very moment I stood there the hitman could have pulled the trigger a second time, but he didn't. And I cannot stop wondering why."
"You mean he could have shot because you hesitated?"
"I was slow, Julian. I was definitely slow. A professional like him would have pulled the trigger, ticked to the right and…he would've gotten me. Back of my head."
"Don't say that, Kyra, it gives me the creeps."
"It's just the truth. You were out of reach in a flash while I almost jumped out of my skin." She shook her head, never losing eye contact. "Tell me, Julian, what happened out there? What happened three weeks ago in my house?"
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"
"I mean, Julian, that I should be dead today because I wasn't out of reach as fast as I should have been."
He snorted. "And that leads you to the conclusion that I was the target and not you? That's…absurd, sorry to say. But…the detective thought that it had been my idea in the first place. So, hey, why shouldn't you come up with another theory?"
Kyra let go of her breath. She still stood in the middle
of the room, watching him sitting on the upper step between kitchen and porch with his arms locked around his knees. He looked so damn harmless. But she had seen him in action. Three weeks ago. Today. "What kind of training do you have, Julian? Just the little bit of fighting here and there doesn't cover the speed and skill you showed."
"Speed, okay, but skill? Not really."
"The burglar got his nose broken. And if your punch had been half an inch more precise you would've pushed his nasal bone up to his brains."
His eyes were huge, his lips parted, the all telling face of surprise. "What?"
"Indeed. Just a tick left and Mr. John Doe would be dead as a doornail."
Julian's arms unfolded from his legs, his carefree position was lost. He leaned forward. "I didn't mean that. I didn't intend to…to kill him." He shook his head vigorously. "Don't think that, please, Kyra, no. I wanted him off of me and I didn't want him to reach for his gun, for I couldn't have him stopped then, but…no. No! I didn't mean to kill him. Really. No."
"Well…" Kyra sighed and let out her breath, beaten by the day and unsolved mysteries. "It might have been for the better. I just don't know. But make my day, Julian, by telling me at least some truth about you. Who taught you?"
"Do you believe me that I didn't want to kill that man? I did not. Honestly."
"Yes, I think I can believe that. But that killer's a pro and you wouldn't have stood a chance with just some bits here and there that you learned long ago."
He lowered his chin and settled back on the steps with his arms resting on his knees. "And the next--"
"No, not the next thing is, Julian. Can the crap. Just tell me." She sank back on the couch, one arm on the backrest, one leg drawn up. "I'm sick of guessing."
"I got some training from an old man. Where I worked at first. I was eighteen then and totally inexperienced. He told me that size alone doesn't matter. It's the way you use it. And since the others always came in numbers, he thought it better to teach me some self-defense. I got a hang on it so I chose a school and learned some kickboxing and other stuff." He looked up. "Street stuff. Dirty fighting. I didn't learn it for show or the ring, I just wanted to know how to defend myself."
