Chapter Five
La Jolla, San Diego, California
“Kit? Are you hit?” Sam asked, reaching out to touch her.
Kit shook her head, disgusted to have been shot at two days in a row. “No. Just fell on my arm.” Clutching her gun, she struggled to her knees, shaking Sam’s hand off when he tried to pull her back down. “It sounded like the shooter drove away, but I need to check for sure. Baz?”
“I’m okay,” Baz said, but his breathing was labored. “Ladies? Is everyone okay?”
Five pairs of eyes stared at them, all glazed over with shock and panic. But they were alive.
“Was anyone hit?” Sam asked them, calling 911 while Kit knee-walked her way to the door, which still stood wide open.
Sheltering behind the door, she studied the street before closing the door. Whoever had been out there seemed to have escaped. There had been several cars parked on the curb when they’d arrived. One—a white van—was now gone.
“No,” Ella said. “We’re not hit. We’re…okay.”
“No, we aren’t!” Hannah’s voice was high and thin. “Someone shot at us.”
“Fine,” Ella said sarcastically. “We’re not wounded. Is that better, Hannah?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Hannah closed her eyes. “We should call 911.”
“I’m on the phone with 911 now,” Sam said, his voice soothing, but his jaw was tight. “Kit, you should call Navarro.”
Baz groaned. “Marian is going to kill me. I told her I was going to a hockey game.”
“No,” Kit said, punching her finger angrily at her phone screen, bringing up her contacts. “She’s going to kill me for letting you come with me.”
“We have a hockey team?” Liz asked numbly.
“Minor league,” Ella told her.
“Oh. Okay.”
It was a ridiculous conversation between the sisters, but that happened sometimes when people were in shock. Kit couldn’t blame them. She was particularly concerned about the twins, who’d gone way too pale.
Their mother had been murdered only the day before and Dahlia had been stalked. Kit would check on them when she got her breath back, but right now the pain in her left arm was too great.
She’d probably pulled out her stitches from the day before.
Which meant more needles. Dammit.
Sam was speaking with the 911 operator, and Kit had a rush of déjà vu.
They’d been shot at again. And now she had to tell her boss. Again.
“You guys have sucky dates,” Baz grumbled.
“Fuck off, Baz,” Kit muttered. “Sorry,” she said to the ladies.
Raisa giggled, sounding hysterical. “It’s okay. We’ve heard worse.”
Kit closed her eyes when Navarro answered on the first ring.
“You better have a good explanation,” he snapped before she could say a word.
“For?” she asked, feeling belligerent.
“Not calling me back. I’ve called you three times.”
Kit checked her phone and, sure enough, he had. “I’m sorry. I had my phone silenced. I was getting constant calls from the media about yesterday’s shooting.”
“Where are you?” Navarro asked, his voice low and ominous. “And don’t even think of saying you’re at home, because I’m at your parents’ house and you are not here.”
She winced. “Why are you at my parents’ house?”
“Because you didn’t answer my calls. I’ve got two detectives in surgery right now and I didn’t want there to be three!”
Kit blinked. “Hold up. Who’s in surgery?”
“Marshall and Ashton. They were shot while they were on their way to interview the victim’s daughters.”
“That’s why they didn’t answer our texts.” She pulled the phone away from her ear. “Marshall and Ashton were both shot.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Baz snarled.
“Yeah,” Kit said, then put the phone back to her ear. “Well, sir, you’re going to be unhappy.”
“Kit,” Navarro said quietly. “Where are you?”
“At the home of Leo Sherman’s sister, talking to the daughters. And we just got shot at.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Navarro snarled.
“Yeah,” Kit agreed. “That’s what Baz said.”
“Baz is with you?”
“He is.”
“Throw me under the bus, why don’t you?” Baz whined.
“He’s gonna find out sooner or later,” Kit told him.
“Lieutenant, a white van was parked on the street but it’s gone now.
We need a BOLO for it. We’ve called 911 and we’re all hunkered down.
Five family members of the victim—her daughters and three sisters-in-law, plus Baz, Sam, and me. No one was hurt.”
Sam had moved close enough to touch her arm, grimacing when his hand came away bloody. “Except you. You busted your stitches when you fell.”
“I know.” Kit looked over at Ella. “I’ll have your carpet cleaned, ma’am.”
Ella looked helpless. “Okay.”
“We have information to share with whoever you call in to replace Marshall and Ashton,” Kit said.
“You do.” Navarro’s voice had no inflection whatsoever.
“We do indeed,” Kit said, injecting cheer into her tone. “It’s a solid lead, sir.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Navarro said again. “Why the hell are you even there? You know you’re not assigned to this case.”
Kit tightened her jaw, suddenly angry. “Do you want to know what we learned or not? Sir?”
“You are on thin ice, Detective,” Navarro warned. “Watch your fucking tone.”
“Watch yours, Lieutenant,” a tart voice said in the background.
Kit nearly laughed at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Tell my folks I’m okay.”
“Physically, perhaps,” he said ominously. “Text me the address and I’ll get there ASAP.”
“I will. How badly are Marshall and Ashton hurt?”
“Bad enough,” Navarro said, then sighed wearily.
“Marshall got hit in the arm, but it was an artery. Ashton took a bullet to his back, but the vest stopped it. They shot him in the leg as he was trying to get Marshall to safety. He’s probably the better off of the two, but the doctors said that neither was critical. ”
Kit exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Oh good. And their wives?”
“I met them at the hospital. They’re doing as well as can be expected.”
Kit looked at Baz and Sam. “Marshall and Ashton aren’t critical.”
Sam heaved a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank God.” Then he took the phone from her hand. “Kit needs medical assistance, Lieutenant. She’s bleeding again. An ambulance is on its way.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Kit protested.
Sam gave her an intense glare that had her shutting up, because mixed with his determination was fear.
“You will be seen in the ER. I’ll go with her, Lieutenant.
” Wincing, he handed her back her phone.
“He said that he’s on his way here first, then he’ll ‘deal’ with us at the hospital. Then he hung up.”
“Great,” Kit muttered.
“Are you going to get fired?” Dahlia asked tremulously.
Kit tried to smile, because Navarro might have a case for termination if he got angry enough. “It’s highly unlikely. But I knew there would be hell to pay before I decided to investigate. Sometimes you gotta pay the piper.”
“Like me,” Baz said mournfully. “Marian is going to kill me. She won’t touch you because you’re already shot.”
“How long is her cruise?” Sam asked.
“Three weeks, but she’s already been gone for two.”
Sam patted Baz’s arm. “That gives you a whole week. This will be old news by then.”
Baz brightened. “I like the way you think, Sammy.”
Sam met Kit’s gaze. “Navarro won’t fire you.”
“I know. But it ain’t gonna be fun.”
“Are you going to stop investigating?” Sam asked.
“No way in hell. Someone wants the cops off this case. Navarro would do the same thing in my shoes. Are you going to continue investigating with me?”
“Like you even have to ask. Are you really okay?”
“Yeah. Just pissed as hell.”
He squeezed her hand. “Me too, Kitty-Cat. Me too.”
Baz coughed. “God. You two.”
Kit glared at him. “You got a problem, Constantine?”
“Only that it took you so damn long to pull your head out of your ass.”
Clamping one hand over her bleeding arm, Kit stood, embarrassed by Baz’s words. Mostly because he was right. She had taken way too long to let Sam into her life. And after two shootings in as many days…
Life was too damn short to be as stubborn as she’d been.
“Let’s get to work,” she said. “Ella—may I call you Ella? It’ll be less confusing than Miss Sherman, since there are so many of you.”
Ella was looking a little more in control. “Of course. What do you need?”
“Bandages,” Sam said.
“Access to your security system,” Kit said at the same time.
Ella nodded, looking grateful to have something to do. “I can get you both.”
San Diego, California
Sunday, January 29, 3:45 p.m.
“You need to stop,” Akiko said, her arms tight around Kit’s neck. Her parents and Akiko had, once again, descended on the local ER, where Kit was waiting to have her arm restitched, this time in an actual room with a door. “This isn’t worth losing your job over.”
“Or your life,” Harlan added quietly. “Or Sam’s.”
Troubled at the thought of Sam being targeted, too, Kit glanced over Akiko’s shoulder to the man in question, who stood leaning against the wall of the small exam room.
Sam shook his head. “Harlan, you know that isn’t going to work with her.”
“It might for your life,” Kit admitted.
“I knew the risk when I signed on to be the SDPD psychologist,” Sam said evenly. “Plus, they weren’t aiming at me. Not today or yesterday. So leave me out of it.”
Harlan glared at him. “You’re not helping.”
Sam shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to. Sorry, Harlan. Whoever is shooting, is shooting at cops. Not me. Telling Kit to stop investigating is like telling her to stop breathing. That’s not who she is and you know it.”
Kit froze for a moment, her heart tripping in her chest. She met Sam’s gaze, finding him to be as sincere as he always was.
He gets me. He really gets me. It was a gift she hadn’t been expecting when she’d met Sam Reeves the year before.
And, not only did he get her, he still wanted her, which was even more of a gift.
“It’s like we aren’t even here,” Betsy murmured.
“Sam’s definitely figured her out,” Harlan added wryly. “That was the right thing to say, son.”
Kit realized she’d been staring at Sam. Sam had been staring at her.
Sam’s gaze shot to Harlan, his cheeks pinking up. “Thank you? I think.”