Wrong Number, Right Guy

by Elle Casey

  Suddenly he yelps really loud and then stops. A whine follows. I’ve only heard that noise once from my boy, when he pulled a back muscle jumping off the couch as a puppy.

  My heart stops beating. I’m pretty sure someone just kicked my dog, and the only someone who would kick an adorable Chihuahua mix like my Felix has to have a black heart and an empty husk for a soul. I want to call the dog to my side and shove him in a cabinet where he can’t get hurt, but I don’t want to alert the dirtbag who abuses animals to where I am.

  I slowly remove a knife from the block on my counter and sidle toward the doorway that leads into my dining room from the other side. Hopefully, whoever is out there will go down the hallway, and I’ll be able to run out the door with Felix in my arms before he even sees me.

  Please, God, let Felix be okay, and let him still be in the hallway by the front door.

  Felix starts growling, and it lightens my heart just a little. If he’s mad enough to be angry, that has to mean something good. I follow the sounds that are coming from his tiny throat. He’s somewhere in the living room, and hopefully he’s alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  I’m leaning down to pick Felix up from the rug in the living room when the voice comes.

  “Well, well, well . . . if it isn’t Petite Rouge,” he says with a Creole accent.

  My brain does a quick translation.

  Petite Rouge. Little Red.

  Then it hits me.

  Little Red Riding Hood! It’s me! I’m Little Red!

  Then the second fact hits me.

  There’s a frigging murderer in my house, and he’s going to kill me!

  And then the third and final fact hits me.

  What is up with all the goddamn nursery rhymes being attached to my person, anyway?

  I nod once at him, my body language expressing a cool I do not possess more than skin deep. “David.” The knife is up by my shoulder, trembling because my entire body feels like it’s being overtaken by an earthquake. I’m not ready to die. I have so many unresolved issues to deal with! What will Jenny do without me, and the kids? What about Ozzie? What about Fee?

  If this asshole even so much as takes a step toward me, I’m going to bury this knife in the closest part of his body. He has a gun in his hand, though, so I know it’s not likely I’ll ever get close enough to use my weapon. I should have asked Ozzie to show me that weapon first. Dammit. Now it’s too late. It’s too late for everything. I never wanted my life to end with this much regret.

  “And you know my name,” he says. “How nice.” The expression on his face is anything but pleased.

  “Why are you here?” I ask, hoping that if I keep him talking, maybe someone will come over and find me, rescue me before he makes his move.

  “I would have thought that would be obvious. I’ve been waiting here awhile, actually. Where have you been all day, I wonder?”

  I shrug. “I’m a photographer. I’m all over the place.”

  He stares at me for a long time.

  I have to shift my weight to the other foot. My leg is going numb from the stress. I have almost no power left anywhere in my body, thanks to my workouts today. I hate that I’m facing this guy with the strength of a three-year-old. Sammy could beat me in an arm wrestling competition.

  “Now what is a photographer doing at Frankie’s pub with Harley, I wonder?”

  “Harley?” I look as confused as possible. “I have no idea who Harley is. I was there to meet my sister.”

  I’m probably going to die here tonight, but if I can leave this world restoring Ozzie’s cover, maybe he can get to the bottom of what they’re doing and help put them all in jail. It’s not much in the way of revenge, but it’s better than nothing. Maybe they’ll put a plaque in the hallway at Bourbon Street Boys with my picture on it, next to the letter from the chief of police.

  I try to smile. “The bartender told me your name when I mentioned you were cute.” My smile falls apart at the outrageous lie. He’s never going to believe that. He can’t be that oblivious to his horribleness could he?

  The guy smiles back, lifting his eyebrows a few times for good measure.

  Bleh, who am I kidding? He probably thinks he’s God’s gift to women with that lumpy, bald head of his.

  “So, your sister, eh? And who might that be? Maybe I know her.”

  “It’s none of your business who my sister is.” Right. Like I’d give that information up to a murderer. He must think I’m Little Bo Peep or something.

  He loses his smile and moves toward me slowly. I circle right, trying to get closer to the front door. My purse, my Taser, and my singlestick are waiting for me there. Just ten feet away . . .

  “You saw me in the bar,” he says, his hand going around his back, taking the gun with it. “You weren’t supposed to be there. Frankie’s isn’t your kind of place, am I right? I had a lot of friends there that night, but you weren’t one of them.”

  “It was kind of hard not to see you, considering you shot a bullet at my face.”

  “You were with Harley. Don’t try to lie and say you weren’t. I saw the way he was looking at you. Sending texts to you. I was shooting at him, though, not you.”

  I act disgusted. “For the last time, I was not there with this Harley person. I was there to meet my sister. Some big, hairy Wookiee grabbed me and tried to attack me when I was there in the back room. I figured he was a friend of yours.”

  His eyebrows go up.

  “I tazed him in the alley when he chased after me.”

  “I was in the alley. I didn’t see you do that.”

  “It wasn’t the alley right next to the bar. It was a few blocks over, and I know for a fact we were alone. That idiot ran after me, if you can believe that. Jerk.” I fake a self-satisfied laugh. “He probably thought I’d run out of steam and he’d be able to just grab me and have his way with me, but I showed him. Tazed his ass. He fell like a big, hairy rock, right onto his fat, stupid face.”

  I may still be angry at Ozzie for lying. That could explain why my acting skills have suddenly improved.

  “I’ll bet he did,” David says absently, staring at me hard. His hands come out from behind his back without the gun in them. It’s strange, but I’m even more afraid now than when he was holding the weapon out where I could see it. Why is he putting it away? Is he letting me go? Does he believe my lame story?

  He takes a step toward me. “You look so innocent.” His voice has gone softer. “So . . . pretty in that pink shirt.”

  I look down at my chest. I’m wearing a polo shirt that I bought last year for my birthday. It reminded me at the time of cake icing.

  “Uh, thanks,” I say, taking another step to the right. “I think.”

  “Why don’t you put that knife down, and we’ll just . . . talk.” He holds out his hands like he’s innocent. “I put my gun away, see? No harm, no foul.” He’s smiling at me like I’m Little Red Riding Hood for real, and it’s creeping me way the hell out. What big teeth you have, Grandfather. He has pointy incisors like a vampire. I can almost believe those monsters are real with him standing there in his black jeans. But in this story they’d be demons, because there is nothing sexy about this vampire with a gun in his waistband. Ugh.

  “Yeah, okay.” I glance at the doorway and then the shelves next to the entrance to the room. “I guess I could put the knife down on the shelves over there.” I give him an apologetic smile. “I paid a lot of money for these, so if it’s okay with you, I’d rather not put it on the floor.”

  He gestures to the bookcase. “Go ahead. Be my guest.” He smiles again, bigger this time.

  I turn my stance into one that doesn’t appear as wary, and walk slowly over to the shelves, acting like I’m not watching him out of the corner of my eye. Just keep your eyes on the pink shirt, psycho. Piiiink shiiiiiirt . . .

  He stands up straighter and moves into position behind me. He’s a few feet away when I catch sight of Felix lying in the hallway where he
’s dragged himself. He’s on his side, panting, his head angled up to look at me. He whines when he sees me staring at him.

  “Felix!” I yell, putting the knife on the shelf and then running over to bend down by him. Yes, I’m worried for my puppy’s life, but I’m also trying to get nearer to my weapons so I can serve up a nice heaping helping of revenge on the man who hurt my baby.

  “He’s fine. I just tripped on him when I was walking down the hall.”

  I grind my teeth together to keep from responding how I want to. I touch Felix’s little head gingerly, calculating how fast I can jump to the side and grab one of my weapons before David figures out what I’m doing and gets his gun out to shoot me.

  Taser or singlestick? Singlestick or foot to the testicles? Decisions, decisions . . .

  “Stand up.” David’s just two feet away, his tone telling me he has plans for me. I’m absolutely sure I do not want to know what those plans are.

  “My dog is hurt,” I say, panicking. I won’t get to my purse in time. That leaves the singlestick, but that’s no match against a gun!

  “He’ll be fine. Stand up.”

  I point at my purse. “Do you mind if I call my vet really quick? My phone is in my purse.”

  He laughs. “So’s your pepper spray, I’m sure. Stand up. This is the last time I’m going to say it.”

  I slowly get to my feet, taking a step toward the front door as I do, limping a little and bending down to touch my knee. “Ow, darn it. Leg cramp.”

  I pretend to have difficulty putting pressure on my leg. I take two half-limping steps to the side. The singlestick beckons.

  “Oh, poop, I have a charley horse.”

  He smiles at my choice of words. Asshole. He really does think I’m Little Bo Peep in a pink shirt. That makes me angrier than that stupid gun he has in his pants. I’m not an airheaded girl standing in a field with nothing better to do than watch a bunch of sheep eating grass, dammit!

  “You know, if I had just met you in a different place at a different time . . . ,” he says, “I think we could have hit it off.” He reaches down and grabs at his crotch, squeezing it.

  It’s then that I realize he’s aroused.

  Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick. He’s going to rape me, isn’t he?

  I smile back, trying like hell to keep all the fear and disgust I’m feeling out of it. “Really? That’s so sweet.”

  No! It’s really not! It’s really, really, really awful, asshole!

  My eyes go wide and I gasp with all the drama I can muster. “Oh! My leg!” I fall to the floor and land on the singlestick. Disney would totally recruit me for one of their kids’ shows if they could see me now. I’m so not believable at all.

  He growls and reaches for me. “That’s enough fucking around! Get over here!” He has me by the pant leg, and he’s dragging me toward him.

  The singlestick feels awesome in my hand, like I was born to swing it. I yank it off the floor and bring it around with as much strength as I have left in me.

  “Rreeeaahh!” I scream, relishing the strong thunk I hear when it makes contact with his leg.

  He yells in pain as his knee buckles.

  Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving. Dev’s instructions race through my head.

  I bring the stick up and smack him on the head with it when he bends over to grab me again.

  “Eeerph!” He falls forward and lands on my lap.

  I emphasize every word that comes out of my mouth with another whack from the stick, hitting him on the head, shoulders, back, and arms.

  “Get!” Whack!

  “Off!” Whack!

  “Me!” Whack!

  “You awful!” Whack!

  “Scumbag!” Whack!

  He finally stops moving, and I pause the abuse to wriggle out from underneath him.

  Scrambling to my knees, I crawl over to my alarm system, using the door handle to get to my feet. All the lights on the keypad are out.

  “Of course!” I scream, glancing back at David. “You destroyed my security system, you asshole!”

  He’s very still.

  “Oh, God, please don’t let him be dead.” I tiptoe over and take the gun from his back where it was tucked into his belt. It’s much heavier than I expected it to be. Opening the front door, I throw it out onto the front lawn.

  Just as I’m about to close the door, Ozzie’s truck pulls into my driveway. I take a step toward him, but then I collapse, my legs going out from under me for real this time. I land on the porch in a puddle of tears.

  “Ozzie!” I screech, reaching out a hand to him. Again, very dramatic, but much more believable, so of course Disney won’t want me now.

  He jumps out of his door and sprints over to me, his face fiery red and his body appearing twice its normal size. Sahara is right behind him, growling, barking, and drooling like a mad hound from hell.

  My heroes.

  I weep with relief. They’ve come to save Fee and me. I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my entire life. I don’t care if he loves Toni. I will forgive him anything now.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Turns out, there’s nothing to forgive. Silly me.

  “I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’d lie to you,” Ozzie says, holding me in his arms in his bed. We’re fully clothed, just coming down from the craziness that was being at the police station, questioned for hours about what happened and then being at the vet to find Felix there just out of surgery to repair a broken leg. He will come home in a couple days when they’re sure he can walk on his pinned limb.

  “If you want to lie to me, you can,” I say, patting his massive chest. “You saved me today.” I look at the clock. “Or yesterday, technically.”

  “First of all, I don’t want to lie to you. Ever.” He takes my fingers and kisses them. “Lies are not a good foundation for a solid relationship.”

  I smile like the Cheshire Cat but say nothing. He’s on a roll and I don’t want to interrupt. A relationship! Wheeee!

  “Second of all, I asked Toni if I could discuss something that relates to her, and she gave me her blessing.”

  “So you didn’t have a relationship with her?”

  “Not like you’re thinking, no. I was her sponsoring employer while she was on parole. She finished that parole a few months ago. She’s on her own now.”

  “Parole?” I nearly sit up at that, but Ozzie’s strong arms hold me down.

  “Yes, parole. She is a convicted felon.”

  “Whoa.” I probably should have known that before I antagonized her so much. “What did she do?”

  “She killed someone. A man.”

  “I . . . errr . . .” I’m finding it hard to say what I’m thinking. “I can’t see her doing that. I mean, she’s tough and she’s hard, but she never struck me as being so cold-blooded.”

  “She’s not. She was a victim of pretty severe domestic violence that started when she was fifteen. She killed her abuser during one of his attacks. It was self-defense, but she was convicted of manslaughter.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she . . . well . . . she did a really good job of killing him, let’s just put it that way.”

  “Wow.” Of course I’m curious as hell about the details, but I’m not going to press for them. I know how much a sacrifice of her privacy this was in the first place. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I respect her for sticking up for herself. I’m glad she killed him well.

  At the same time, I’m glad I didn’t kill David Doucet. Giving him a concussion is bad enough. I don’t think I could end a person’s life without being tortured over it for the rest of my life. Maybe that’s why Toni seems so angry. Maybe she’s having a tough time with that too. I renew my dedication to become her friend, now that I know I’ll definitely be staying here at Bourbon Street Boys and that she didn’t sleep with my boyfriend.

  “Are you my boyfriend, Ozzie?” I feel silly saying it, but I need to know.

>   “Do you want me to be?”

  “Yes. But it doesn’t matter just what I want. We both have to be on board.”

  He chuckles. “I’m on board.”

  “But I don’t want people at work knowing.”

  “Fine by me. Either way.”

  “Because it wouldn’t be professional.”

  “What wouldn’t be professional?” he asks, rolling over on top of me.

  “Us being intimate. At work.” I can’t stop smiling up at his handsome face.

  He leans down and kisses me ever so gently on the lips. “I agree one hundred percent.”

  I slide my hands up his back and revel in all the muscles I feel there. “So you should probably stop kissing me, then.”

  He kisses me on the lips again. “This isn’t work. This is my home.”

  I glance at the door. “I’m pretty sure Dev and Thibault are right outside that door.”

  “They’re in the kitchen, which is thirty feet from that door. And they’re not allowed past the kitchen.”

  “Is that the boundary?” I ask, joking.

  “As a matter of fact, it is. No one but you ever comes past the kitchen.”

  “Not even Toni?” I feel silly asking it, but I do it anyway. I’m still in high school, apparently.

  “Even Toni.”

  I hug him hard, pulling him against me. “I love you, Oswald.”

  “What if I grow my beard back?”

  My face twitches as I try to hold back the giggles. “Let’s not test my love so soon, okay?”

  He growls and buries his face in my neck. “You’re in trouble now, young lady.”

  I laugh as I try to get away. “No! Not the five o’clock shadow cheek burn!”

  He grinds his face against me until I start screaming.

  “Shhhh, people are going to think we’re being intimate at work,” he says in a whisper.

  I grab him on either side of the head and try to glare at him. “You’re mocking me. Cut that out.” The glare slips and I smile instead. I love that he’s so playful, but only with me. Everyone else sees him as this big, bad, commando guy who never jokes around, but I know who he really is: a big teddy bear who’ll do anything to protect those he loves.