Chapter 20
20
11:15 a.m. Saturday, November 2
“ G et everyone upstairs or hidden,” Weber said tersely. He was already dialing his phone as he stormed out of the kitchen.
“Keep everybody to the back of the house,” Nick ordered Riley, following Weber out and looking just as steely.
“You heard them,” Riley said, helping Mrs. Penny out of her chair. “Billy, help Mrs. Penny and Lily. I’ll warn the rest.”
She could see bits and pieces of it play out in her mind. Two cars sending gravel flying as they careened up the driveway. A sense of urgency permeated the candy pink clouds. Griffin was bringing danger right to their doorstep.
“They didn’t teach us about this in law school,” Billy said, looking a little green around the gills.
“You’re a smart kid. I have faith in you,” Riley called as she hurried out of the room.
She ran into a grim-looking Nick coming out of his office loading his gun. Weber was pocketing extra magazines for his sidearm. “We need to set up?—”
“A barricade,” Nick finished for Weber. “You get the?—”
“Gate,” Weber said.
“Meet you out front.” Nick turned to her. “Stay inside and stay down, Thorn.” Then he grabbed her by the front of the shirt and hauled her in for a short, hard kiss.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” they said in unison.
Nick’s dimples winked to life. “See you in a few, baby.”
The rest of the occupants of Nick’s office seemed to be taking the situation too much in stride. “Hey! Everybody needs to vacate immediately,” Riley ordered, clapping her hands.
Burt woke up with a snort and looked around, dazed. Mr. Willicott continued to snore with vigor.
Riley shook him by the shoulder.
“Huh? Wha? I don’t wanna go to school today,” he mumbled.
“Wake up, Mr. Willicott!” she shouted.
“Try this,” Fred offered from his lotus pose on the floor. “Who wants action on the Denver Broncos?”
Mr. Willicott woke mid-snore. “I’ll take fifty on the Broncos.”
“We’ll take the front windows,” Josie said, yanking up her pant leg to reveal an ankle holster and small handgun.
Brian rifled through his backpack and produced a much larger gun with a silencer. “Let’s go have some fun,” he said.
“It’s baby’s first gunfight,” Josie said with more enthusiasm than Riley had ever seen from her.
“Gabe, I need you to get these guys moving,” Riley said, pointing at the cross-legged Fred and the groggy Mr. Willicott. “Follow Mrs. Penny and Lily, and keep everyone quiet. Burt, go with Gabe.”
The dog, looking nervous, loped over to her and took her hand in his mouth. He tugged gently.
“Sorry, buddy. I can’t go with you,” she said, giving him several loving pats with her free hand. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“They’re coming.”
The message vibrated with crystal clear intensity.
Trusting Gabe to handle the roommates, she ran from the office, wiping the dog slobber on her jeans as she went. She needed to warn Nick before it was too late. She flung open the front door in time to spy him parking her Jeep nose-to-nose with Weber’s police issue SUV across the driveway.
“ Woo-hoo! Finally some action! Lemme at ’em ,” the ghost of Riley’s long-dead uncle Jimmy crowed from the Jeep.
Weber was already hunkered down behind the wheel well of his vehicle, wearing a bulletproof vest and loading a rifle with deadly-looking rounds.
“They’re coming,” she said through cupped hands.
“Get back in the house now, Riley,” Nick ordered, hopping out of the driver’s seat and rounding the back of the Jeep.
Just then, the distant pop pop pop of gunfire exploded, followed by the faraway whine of sirens.
“They’re not going to get here in time,” she whispered to herself as she was closing the door.
But she didn’t do it fast enough. Burt bolted through her legs, out the door, and off the porch.
“Burt! No!” she cried.
Tires squealed on the street.
Pop. Pop.
Swearing to herself, Riley slammed the door and raced into the yard after her idiot dog.
“Damn it, Thorn!” Nick growled.
She tackled Burt to the cold ground two feet from Nick as tires squealed again before giving way to the crunch and scrape of metal.
In an impressive show of strength, Nick grabbed her and Burt and dragged them behind the Jeep’s fender. “Stay down,” he ordered.
Burt’s tail thumped happily against Riley’s leg. “You’re in big trouble when this is over,” she told the dog.
Nick put a knee to Riley’s back, holding her down. From her belly-level view under the Jeep, she watched as her ex-husband smashed his snazzy sports car through their gate…again. On his tail was a powder-blue Fiat with guns hanging out of both windows.
“Ready?” Weber yelled.
“Kick ass on one,” Nick said. “Three…”
Free of the gate, Griffin’s car accelerated, sending gravel flying.
“Two.”
Riley watched in horror and braced herself as the car fishtailed before smacking soundly into the driver’s-side door of the Jeep.
“One,” Nick shouted.
Both men jumped to their feet and opened fire on the Fiat. Riley closed her eyes and covered Burt’s ears with her hands as he whimpered under her. Gunfire was seriously loud, she thought as hot shells rained down on her.
The Fiat zigged into the yard through an overgrown flower bed encircling a tall oak. The pop and pow of Nick’s and Weber’s weapons was interrupted by a terrific boom that came from behind her.
Riley whipped her head around and spotted Mrs. Penny balanced precariously on the porch roof. She had a bandana tied around her head and a gleaming handgun in her grip.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riley muttered.
The oak tree above the Fiat shuddered, then gave a mighty crack . A huge branch dropped, crushing the roof of the vehicle.
Riley glanced back at the roof in time to spy Mrs. Penny’s feet and cane disappearing through the bedroom window.
“Hold fire,” Weber barked.
She chanced a glance under the belly of the Jeep and saw something white—maybe a fast-food napkin—waving out of what was left of the passenger window.
On the street, an expensive-looking Cadillac Escalade came to a halt, stopping the southbound traffic to lookie-loo at the active crime scene.
“Come out with your hands up,” Weber yelled, his voice crackling with authority.
Behind them, the front door opened, and Josie stalked out, gun trained on the Fiat. Brian wheeled around from the side of the porch and took up position on the corner.
Horns blared on the street, and traffic began to move again.
The Fiat’s doors creaked open, and two sets of hands appeared. The car rocked back and forth violently as if a sumo wrestling match were taking place inside.
“What the hell are they doing?” Nick demanded, dragging off his ear protection.
“What?” Weber asked without taking his eyes off the tiny car.
“I think they’re stuck,” Riley said.
Just then, the passenger, a burly guy in a shiny gray pin-striped suit and snakeskin cowboy boots, fell out of the car onto a clump of chrysanthemums. He had a mop of fiery red hair. Beneath his freckles, his skin was the shade of pale that required SPF 100 or higher.
The driver’s exit was no more graceful. The afternoon sun gleamed off the top of his tan shaved head as he tilted sideways until his large frame popped free and he tumbled onto the ground. He wore head-to-toe black from his combat boots to the knit turtleneck that looked as if its seams were straining over an excessive amount of muscle.
“Hands where I can see them,” Nick and Weber shouted together.
Riley had to admit, the two ex-partners certainly had a rhythm together when they weren’t too busy bickering. She doubted that either man would take it as a compliment.
“Jesus. These guys are the size of linebackers who retired and became lumberjacks,” Josie called from the porch.
She wasn’t wrong. Both men looked as if they shopped exclusively in the Big and Tall section.
“Am I dead?” Griffin’s head popped up on the other side of the Jeep, drawing Nick’s and Weber’s aim.
The news anchor yelped and collapsed to the ground.
“We should be so lucky,” Nick muttered.
“Facedown, on the ground, hands behind your back,” Weber shouted to the two men from the Fiat.
Riley smirked into Burt’s fur when Griffin complied too.
“I’ll take the one dressed like a night prowler. You take Lizard Boots,” Nick said to Weber.
“What?” Weber barked, shaking his head. “I can’t hear shit.”
“Maybe you should have thought to put on your fucking ear protection , dummy.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Nicky. I’m still hungover,”
“Get the guy on the right,” Nick yelled. Together they rounded opposite ends of the vehicles, guns trained on the men on the ground.
Riley felt an entirely inappropriate pitter-pat of female appreciation as she watched her muscly, tattooed boyfriend slap zip ties on a bad guy. Griffin was still shivering on the ground, whining about the gravel damaging his sensitive skin.
Lizard Boots started muttering as Weber reached for his cuffs. But Night Prowler hissed at his partner. “Remember, keep your mouth fucking shut,” he said in what sounded like it could be an Austrian accent.
“I’m so sick of you telling me what to do,” Lizard Boots growled.
Nick nudged Lizard Boots in the hip with his foot. “Hey, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal. We’re all friends here. Go ahead and confess to Uncle Nick and Detective Pain-in-the-Ass why you shot up my goddamn yard.”
Both shooters looked at him, their faces going carefully blank.
“What are you saying?” Weber demanded several decibels louder than necessary.
“None of us like your suit,” Nick quipped, tightening the zip ties on a very unhappy-looking Night Prowler.
The sirens were ear-piercing now. Burt let out a pathetic whimper under her, and Riley rolled off him. The dog gave her face a grateful slurp before galloping onto the porch and through the front door.
“You’re welcome,” she called after him.
She got up, dusted herself off, and rounded the vehicles. Nick and Weber were busy going through the shooters’ pockets and making a pile of the weapons they found. The men from the Fiat didn’t look very happy about their predicament. Both of them were aiming death glares at Griffin, who was still lying facedown and whining pathetically.
Riley sighed. Griffin had managed to T-bone her Jeep dead center, though it did look as though his car took the brunt of the impact. The front end was smashed in to the dashboard. Her Jeep bore a large dent on the driver’s-side door and a spray of new bullet holes in the windshield.
“Sorry, Uncle Jimmy,” Riley said, patting the rear fender.
“ That was the most excitement I’ve had since I caught a sand shark in Ocean City ,” Uncle Jimmy’s spirit said, cackling.
She reached down and hauled Griffin to his feet. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“No, I’m not okay! My suit is wrinkled, I have dirt in my mouth, and this ugly Jeep destroyed my cute little car,” he whined.
Riley exhaled through her teeth. “I meant did you get shot?”
“Oh. No. I don’t think so. Just great! Grass stains. Those will never come out,” he complained, wiping at the knees of his trousers.
She narrowed her eyes when he straightened. “Did you get new lifts for your shoes? You look taller.”
The first police cruiser charged through the broken gate into the driveway, followed immediately by a second and third.
Happy to leave the boring cleanup to the cops, Nick holstered his weapon and crossed to Riley. “You okay?”
“No! I have grass stains everywhere,” Griffin wailed. “Who’s going to pay for my dry cleaning?”
Nick planted his hand on Griffin’s chest and shoved him over backward into a bush.
“I was talking to you,” Nick said to Riley.
“I’m fine.”
He hooked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in until they were forehead to forehead. “Good. Don’t ever fucking do that again. You took ten years off my life. And we could have a lot of sex in ten years.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t leave Burt out here.”
“I know,” he said. “Still mad though.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh.
They stood that way for a long moment, breathing each other in while Griffin flailed his way out of the holly and Harrisburg cops swarmed their front yard.
“You know, usually I just leave my Jeep at crime scenes. This time, it is a crime scene,” she said, trying to lighten the tension.
“You’re a hell of a girl, Riley Thorn. Now go inside and check on the others while I deal with this mess,” he said.
“Okay,” she agreed. But when he moved to pull away, Riley gripped him by the front of his shirt. “That was really hot, by the way.”
“What was?”
“You being all defend-y and authoritative and stuff.”
His grin was lightning quick. Both dimples appeared and did funny things to her stomach. Once again, she caught the shimmer of something sparkly in her head. Giddiness swept over her, and she couldn’t help but giggle.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Go on,” he said, turning her toward the house and smacking her on the ass. “Oh, and tell Penny she better hide that fucking gun.”
“How did you know?” she demanded.
“I know the sound of a fifty caliber, and I know there’s only one person stupid enough to fire it from our porch roof.”
“Handsome and smart,” she said on another sigh. “How did I get so lucky?”
“We’ll talk about getting lucky later,” he promised.
Riley left him to deal with the cops in the driveway and jogged up the porch steps. “Let’s go check on everyone,” she said to Josie and Brian.
They followed Brian around to the ramp to his office entrance. It was a skinny room that contained a countertop, a half dozen monitors, and a lot of expensive computer equipment.
“I can’t believe I didn’t get to shoot anyone,” Josie complained as they poked their heads into the empty kitchen, bar, and dining room.
“Next time, babe,” Brian promised.
“Where is everyone?” Riley wondered. “Did they all make it upstairs?”
They found Burt sitting in front of the built-in hutch outside the dining room. His tail thumped a staccato beat as he stared at the glass doors.
“Achoo!”
“Bless you,” Riley, Josie, and Brian said.
Riley rolled her eyes, then knocked on the carved molding surrounding the hutch.
“Who is it?” Lily called sweetly from within the wall.
“Pipe down! We’re supposed to be hiding, remember? It could be the bad guys knocking,” Fred said loudly.
“Right! I forgot. Nobody’s here but us house ghosts,” Lily said. “Wooooooooooo.”
“Buncha amateurs,” Mrs. Penny muttered.
“Please remain calm…and much quieter,” Gabe said.
Riley sighed and swung the hutch open to reveal the secret staircase.
Lily, Fred, and Mr. Willicott were playing cards on the stairs using potato chips for money. Gabe was eating the rest of the chips that hadn’t become currency. Billy the prodigy lawyer had loosened his dinosaur tie and was drinking a Dr Pepper with shaking hands.
Mrs. Penny took a slurp of the bourbon in her glass. “I was here the whole time,” she announced.
“What in the name of all fuckery is going on here?” Jasmine demanded, shoving aside the crime scene tape and holding a hand in the face of the cop who dared to stand in her way. “Not today, junior.”
Riley excused herself from the officer who was trying to take a statement from all her roommates at the same time and hugged her best friend.
“What the hell happened here?” Jasmine demanded, returning the tight squeeze before releasing her.
“Oh, you know, the usual. Griffin was being chased by two men with guns, so of course he drove straight here, endangering everyone and crashing his car into my Jeep. Then Nick and Kellen returned fire until a tree branch mysteriously crushed the bad guys’ car and they were forced to surrender.”
“Mrs. Penny shoot down the branch?” Jasmine guessed.
“Yep. But we’re pretending it was Mother Nature. You look good,” Riley observed.
Jasmine wore a red pantsuit with a lacy white tank and beige stilettos that looked as if they could be used as weapons. Her bangs were ruler-straight and as glossy as the rest of her jet-black hair.
“I had to take a deposition today. Some dirtbag son tried to bleed his parents’ estate dry while keeping them locked up in a basement in-law suite. If the trial goes anything like today, I’ll have him crying on the stand in less than five minutes.”
“I believe in you,” Riley said. Making men cry in fear was a specialty of Jasmine’s.
“This is an active crime scene, not Sunday brunch. You need to leave,” Weber announced, stomping over to them.
“Don’t even start with me, Detective Dick,” Jasmine challenged. “I already eviscerated one man today. I wouldn’t add myself to that list if I were you.”
“I’m a homicide detective. Pain-in-the-ass attorneys don’t scare me.”
Jasmine stepped closer until the pointy tips of her shoes were touching Weber’s boots. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” he growled.
“It’s so nice to see you two getting along,” Riley said.