Page 75 of Jagger
I lowered my arms and chanced a look at her, to find the gun barrel aimed directly at my head again.
“It’s, um, 7-9-0-3.” I told her shakily. She repeated the number to herself, mumbling it under her breath over and over as if trying to commit it to memory.
She fished out my debit and credit cards from the wallet, then shoved them and the cash into the pocket of her dirty blue jeans. She spied the keys to Cole’s car in the middle of the pile of crumpled receipts, pens, hair ties, and other assorted crap she’d emptied out of my purse, snatching them up with a grin. She shook them in my face before shoving them into her pocket as well.
“I followed you home from the school, you know. I waited, and I saw you walking out to the parking lot. I thought about just taking you out right there, but then I decided you owed me. I hope you’ve got plenty of gas in that Charger of yours.”
“Yes, just take it. Take it and the money. Whatever you want. Just take it and go,” I offered shakily. I knew that Cole would be here any minute with the groceries, and I was desperate for her to be gone by then. I couldn’t bear the thought of him walking in and getting hurt because of me.
“Oh, I’m going, but I’m gonna take care of you first. Did you know that my husband is dead because of you?” Her voice was eerily calm now, and the empty look in her eyes sent ice-cold dread slithering down my spine.
“It wasn’t enough that you took my kid away from me. You just had to take my husband, too, didn’t you? You don’t deserve to live after what you did to him.” She was getting agitated again, and her voice was no longer calm. “You don’t deserve to live after what you did to him,” she repeated shrilly.“You don’t deserve to live!”
My eyes were glued to her hand holding the gun, and I watched in horror as her grip tightened and her finger started to squeeze the trigger. I closed my eyes, not wanting her face to be the last thing I saw on this earth. I called up Cole’s image in my mind. My heart broke at the thought of never seeing his warm brown eyes or his sexy smile ever again. I imagined his arms around me, comforting me as I shook with fear. I took one last shaky breath, imagining I could smell the sandalwood and leather combination that I’d come to associate with the man I loved. My tears fell harder, and I could have sworn I heard him call out an anguished sounding“Angel”as two gunshots rang out.
Chapter 24
JaggerCole
I hurried through the aisles at the store, grabbing the lasagna noodles, ricotta cheese, and oregano that Molly said she needed. I quickly paid for the items, then shoved them into the saddlebags and jumped on my bike. I felt vaguely uneasy for some reason, and I was anxious to see Molly. I reminded myself that Laskey was dead. He couldn’t try to hurt her anymore, but I still felt on-edge as I pulled into the parking lot of her building a few minutes later.
The sight of that damned door to her building propped open made me grit my teeth. I fucking hated the lack of security around here. I was going to have to convince Molly to move her ass in with me soon, for my own sanity.
I gripped the small bag of groceries tight as I took the stairs two at a time. My feet hit the landing and I glanced toward Molly’s door as I approached it, coming to an abrupt halt as I realized the door wasn’t closed all the way. The uneasy feeling in my gut intensified, and I leaned over to quietly set the bag down in the hallway. I reached into the inside pocket of my cut as I straightened, thankful that I hadn’t put my gun back in my saddlebag when I’d left the bar earlier. I slid my Ruger from the holster, then crept forward until I was plastered to the wall next to the doorway. I listened carefully and could hear Molly talking to another woman.
At the sound of their murmured voices, my tension eased thinking it was probably her neighbor, Miranda, visiting my girl. I was going to give Molly hell for not shutting her door all the way, though. I started to slip my gun back into the holster when the other woman’s voice got louder, and my tension skyrocketed again as her words became clear.
“It wasn’t enough that you took my kid away from me. You just had to take my husband, too, didn’t you? You don’t deserve to live after what you did to him.”
What the fuck? I eased the door open just enough to be able to peer into the living room, and my blood froze as I took in the scene in front of me. Molly was sitting on the edge of the couch, clearly terrified, with a disheveled-looking Monica Laskey standing over her. My eyes locked onto the gun in Monica’s hand, and I realized that she was losing control as she repeated herself.
“You don’t deserve to live after what you did to him.You don’t deserve to live!”
My body moved on instinct, as I stepped through the doorway at the same time I drew my gun level. I kept my eyes trained on Monica as she startled and whirled toward the door. I caught sight of the gun in her hand that was pointing in my general direction, and I fired, without hesitation. I heard a second blast almost simultaneously, then ducked instinctively as a bullet slammed into the steel door two feet away from me. I watched in grim satisfaction as Monica crumpled to the ground, blood pooling from my bullet which had hit her square in the chest. Her gun fell onto the carpet next to her, and I kicked it out of reach as I stepped over her to get to Molly, who was frozen in place on the couch with her eyes squeezed shut. I grabbed my woman, pulling her up and into my arms in one motion, as she gasped and opened her eyes in disbelief.
“Cole!” she whispered shakily, and I tightened my arms around her as her entire body trembled in my hold. I heard a commotion from the hallway, and a voice yelled for someone to call 9-1-1.
“Are you hurt, Angel?” I asked, pushing her away slightly to slip my gun back into the holster and make sure she was OK. I swallowed hard when I saw a trickle of blood running from her temple and down her cheek. Carefully, I raised my hand and brushed her hair away from the side of her face, before gently probing the lump on the side of her head. The skin had been split open, and she would likely need a few stitches to close the wound. I’d seen enough to know that this was probably the result of being pistol-whipped, and I glanced down at the woman I’d shot. I was tempted to shoot her again just in case my bullet hadn’t killed her, but I could hear sirens in the distance, so I figured that wouldn’t be a good idea.
“The shooter is down. Everyone’s safe, but we need an ambulance,” I yelled over my shoulder, hoping that one of her neighbors would hear me. I steered Molly around the other side of the coffee table to the door, so she wouldn’t have to step over the hopefully dead body on the floor. We stepped out into the hallway, and I saw several police officers hurrying toward the base of the stairs with their guns drawn. I came to an abrupt stop and moved in front of Molly, in case they got trigger happy. I was already raising my hands to show them I was not a threat as they started shouting orders at us.
“Get on your knees, hands above your head!”
I dropped down as instructed and laced my hands together on top of my head, while telling them that Molly was injured and needed medical care.
“The intruder is down, and her gun is on the floor in the living room. The gun I shot her with is in the inside pocket of my cut,” I advised the first officer who approached me. He gave me a wary look and held his gun on me while retrieving my gun and holster with his other hand. He passed them off to the officer next to him, then he grabbed one arm and twisted it behind my back, and I felt the cool metal of his handcuffs circling my wrist. He quickly grabbed the other arm and cuffed it, and I tried to stay calm as I heard the cuffs click into place. The cop ordered me to stay on my knees and stood over me as several officers rushed past us into the apartment.
Another officer approached Molly and I realized it was the same Deputy Do-Little from the night her car was vandalized. He obviously remembered her, and I was relieved to see that he understood she was the victim and approached her gently.
“Ma’am, let me help you down the stairs. The ambulance should be pulling up any minute now” he told her calmly, trying to guide her to the stairs.
“Wait. Why is Cole in handcuffs? He didn’t do anything wrong,” she said tearfully, pulling away from him.
“It’s procedure, ma’am, until we figure out exactly what happened here.”
“He saved me, that’s what happened here. She was g-g-going to kill me, and he s-s-saved me.” Molly was shaking so badly that she was having difficulty getting her words out clearly, and I was afraid she was going into shock.
Deputy Do-Little traded glances with the cop who cuffed me, then nodded curtly. The cop helped me to my feet, then told me I would need to remain cuffed until they sorted things out.
