Forgotten Sins

Chapter 24

Paul leapt to his feet. “What? No way. Why would I kill her?” He gaze slid to Josie and then back to Max. “I’m no killer.”

Max cocked the gun. “It occurred to me earlier that I’m taking all the risks here. Should you decide to turn me in, you could certainly strike a deal, considering I killed Billy.” One perfectly creased shoulder shrugged. “So you kill her.” He eyed the young bar owner. “Or I kill you. Either way, I won’t worry about it anymore.”

Paul gulped loudly. “Can’t we just let her go and all leave town?”

Josie slid to the edge of her chair. The pounding of music through the walls turned ominous, the beat thumping her shoes. “Let me go.” Paul’s desk held a stapler, computer, and pens. No good weapons.

Max laughed, a low dangerous sound that rose goose bumps on her skin. He reached into his pocket for a silver cylinder that he twisted on to the end of the gun. “I like you, Mrs. Dean.”

A silencer. She fixated on the small hole at the end, unable to look away. “How exactly do you plan to get my body out of here?” She aimed the question at Paul, feeling some satisfaction as he gasped.

A deep male sigh hissed through Max’s lips. “Through the back door. Of course.” Quick movements had him grabbing Paul and yanking the young man out from behind the desk.

Max thrust the gun into Paul’s shaking hand and pointed the barrel at Josie. “This might make a mess, but I’m okay with that.”

Paul retreated until his desk stopped him, his eyes filling with tears, his hand shaking so wildly he might accidentally pull the trigger.

Her breath caught in her throat, and the room narrowed to razor-sharp focus.

Max stepped away from Paul. “Shoot her, Paul.”

“I’m sorry.” Paul shut his eyes and pulled the trigger.

Josie dropped low before springing forward to smash her head into Paul’s midsection. His back hit the desk. The bullet pinged off a painting. Paul’s air whooshed out of his lungs. He doubled over, and Josie reached for the gun, her sweating hands slipping on the cold metal.

Max shot forward, grabbing her shoulder. She yelled. Pivoting, she rammed her elbow up into his groin. He made a sound crossed between a squealing pig and nails on a blackboard. He bent at the waist, still grabbing for the gun.

Oh God. This wasn’t happening. Josie tucked her hand around the grip panel of the gun, rolling to the far side and standing up. The scent of splintered wood and gunpowder filled the room. She pointed the gun at Max. Paul dropped to his knees, tears and snot running down his face.

Max straightened, his face a mottled purple, his hand pressed against his lower abdomen. “You bitch. Fine, I’ll kill you.”

Josie settled her stance. She’d actually taken the gun from him. Unlike Paul’s, her hand remained steady. Her mind clouded, the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. The room took on a surreal haze, but she kept her gaze on the threat. “I have the gun, asshole.”

His smile belonged on a Halloween monster. “You won’t shoot me. We both know it.” He took two quick steps forward.

Josie pulled the trigger.

A small boom echoed. Louder than the first shot. Max fell back against the wall. Blood sprayed from his shoulder, and his hand covered the wound, seeping red through his fingers. “You shot me.” His eyes flashed wide and incredulous.

“Of course.” Josie fought to keep her hand steady. “You’re lucky I’m a crappy shot. I was aiming for the center of your chest.” Holy crap. She’d actually just shot him. “Did you think I’d let you kill me? That I wouldn’t shoot you?” How unbelievable. She’d been a survivor since day one in this life. Apparently looks truly were deceiving.

The door crashed open.

Shane rushed inside with Matt on his heels, both holding square, dangerous-looking guns. He took in the scene, gray eyes expressionless. “Angel.” He looked back and forth between the two damaged men and her. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Though now that the danger had ebbed, her knees felt like rubber. A pounding set up at the base of her skull. Crazy adrenaline. “Are you?” She glanced down at the red that stained his shirt.

He nodded, his pale face tightening. “Yes. Bullet skimmed my abs. Bloody but not dangerous.”

Sirens cut through the late afternoon.

Matt tucked his gun in the back of his pants. “Looks like you have things taken care of here.” His grin reached his eyes. “You’re something, honey.”

Josie tried to smile in response, but her lips refused to cooperate. She’d shot a man.

Shane stepped between Josie and Max, his gun trained on Max’s heart. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you later.”

Matt took one last glance around the room. With a nod, he hurried out the door.

Max sucked in air. “I have money. A lot of it.”

Shane’s stance didn’t change. “I don’t give a shit. In fact, I’m having a mental debate about whether or not I should kill you.”

Paul sobbed louder from where he lay curled on the floor.

Shane glanced down, his shoulders straightening. “Get off the floor, asshole.”

Without warning, Max grabbed a gun from behind his waist and pointed it at Shane, pulling the trigger. The explosion rocked around the room.

Shane fell back. Josie grabbed him, holding him and easing him to the floor. Her eyes widened at the amount of blood, and she gasped. “Shane.”

The pounding of running boots echoed. Three uniformed police officers rushed into the room, weapons drawn. “Drop your weapons,” the first bellowed.

Max dropped his gun, raising his hands.

Shane perched on his knees, partially doubled over, yet still shifting his weight to shield Josie from the cops’ aim.

Josie grabbed his arm. “How bad?” Blood gushed from his stomach.

“Bad.” Shane paled. “Surgery bad.”

Fear caught a sob in her throat. She glanced up. “Get an ambulance.”

“It’s on the way,” the first cop said. “What happened?”

“I’m Josie Dean and those guys kidnapped me.” She pointed to Max. “He was going to kill me, but I got his gun.” Her hand wavered as she held the gun out to the police officer. “I shot him.”

The cop nodded, taking the gun. “Yes. The whole force is out looking for you.” He nodded to the other two cops. “Cuff them.” The other two hurried over to Max and Paul to place them in handcuffs. “We’ll take the wounded to the hospital first.”

Josie gripped Shane’s arm like a lifeline. More sirens grew louder.

Shane cleared his throat. “Did you get the two tied up in their car?”

“Yes.” The officer glanced at Max and then back. “They couldn’t wait to start talking about Max the famous drug dealer here.”

“Good.” Shane huffed out a breath. “There was another man in the ally, one who helped me tie them up, but he wouldn’t say who he was.”

Josie kept her face blank. So no one was supposed to know about Matt. She’d play along. But her ears rang, and her hands shook.

“We’ll get descriptions from you both.” The cop’s thick mustache wriggled when he spoke. “You can answer questions at the hospital, Mrs. Dean.”

Josie rested her head against the pale pink wall. Who made hospital walls pink, anyway? She shifted her weight onto the hard leather of the seat. Waiting. She hated waiting. Shane had been in surgery for an hour. Maybe more.

Matt dropped by every once in a while for an update, otherwise staying in the background. Just his presence somewhere in the hospital brought her some relief. She took a deep breath. Enough of the on-again, off-again plans for her future. She’d seen the worst of Shane, and she’d seen the best. It was time to make a decision and stick to it—no matter what. A near-death experience tended to put things in perspective now, didn’t it?

She could go on her own way and build a pretty good life for herself. Maybe even find a nice man and have a couple of cute kids.

But something would always be missing. She’d always dream of Shane, and of what they might’ve had. His life expectancy wasn’t great, but he had some time. And she wanted to be a part of that time—to take what they could. Maybe they’d even win and find a happy life. But she never wanted to look back and wonder—and she couldn’t waffle anymore. The decision she made, sitting in the scary hospital, would be the one she stuck with absolutely.

For the first time, she had people who were hers. The sense of possession surpassed the sense of belonging she’d always craved. No wonder people died or killed for family. There was no other feeling in the world as being bound and not alone. Right or wrong, she felt safe.

She chose Shane. The risk was worth it. Peace settled through her body.

The doctor, still in surgery scrubs, sidled his impressive bulk down the hallway toward her. Bushy eyebrows rose over thick spectacles. “Mrs. Dean?”

“Yes.” She straightened in her chair, wincing as bruises from her journey in the trunk flared to life.

“Your husband came through the surgery just fine.”

Her breath exhaled in a whoosh of relief. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. Her lungs cried for more oxygen, and she breathed in deep. “He’s all right?”

“Yes, quite.” The doctor pursed full lips. “He’s in excellent shape. The bullet did minimal damage, though I’d like to keep an eye on him tonight to ensure there’s no internal bleeding.” He nodded at a passing doctor wearing a long white coat. “Your husband should be up from surgery in about thirty minutes, and then you can see him.”

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Shane was okay. “Thank you, Doctor.”

With an absent nod, the doctor turned and followed his colleague.

Detective Malloy sidled up from around the corner.

Josie sighed. “Is there a case in town you’re not assigned to?”

Malloy grinned, twirling a toothpick in his mouth. “Lots of them. But you and your husband, Mrs. Dean, well… you’re mine. Whenever your name comes up, I get the call.”

“Lucky you,” Josie breathed, pushing matted hair off her forehead. “I suppose you just heard?”

“Yep.” Malloy dropped into the seat next to her. The cushions protested with a wheeze of air. “The major is in excellent shape and will be fine. Good to know.” He flipped out his battered notebook. “So. Run me through what happened.”

Josie told the tale, leaving out the parts about finding Billy’s body as well as Matt’s name. She explained in detail who Billy was and what he’d done for his clients. She sighed. “Max the drug dealer said he killed Billy on the ninth floor of my building. You should check it out.”

Malloy raised an eyebrow, grabbing his cell phone and barking orders. “I sent two uniforms to investigate.” He sat back. “So. Tell me about this mysterious man who helped your husband.”

Josie rubbed her eyes. “I can’t. Shane said he met him in the alley, and the guy helped out. Maybe he was ex-military or something. Those guys stick together, you know.”

Malloy nodded, a slow smile spreading across his weathered face. “Just out of curiosity, how stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all.” And she didn’t. She’d known the detective wouldn’t buy Shane’s lame story about Matt. But she also knew Malloy couldn’t prove it was a lie, either. If she and Shane stuck to the story, even though they all knew it was a lie, there was nothing Malloy could do about it. “What did the Agers say?”

“That’s irrelevant.” For the first time, Malloy allowed irritation to flash across his thick features. “Describe the man.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t get a good look at him. I shot Max, Shane showed up, Max shot Shane… it’s all a blur.”

“Try.”

“Well, I guess he was about average size? Maybe with light brown hair and, I don’t know, maybe brown eyes?” She leaned forward, her gaze running the length of the sparkling clean hallway. “I only saw him from the corner of my eye. My focus stayed on all the guns.”

“Did mystery man have a gun?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.” She plastered her best innocent expression on her face before turning toward him. She’d learned it early in childhood. “I really wish I could help you. But the entire kidnapping was quite the ordeal, and my brain is just fuzzy.”

Bloodshot brown eyes narrowed. “Do you require medical attention, Mrs. Dean?”

“No.” She sighed, leaning her head back again. “I’m just bruised and tired, Detective.” The idea that Shane might not make it through surgery had made her heart hurt. Yet even then, she had faith he’d survive. Shane was a true warrior, enhanced. A simple bullet couldn’t take him down. Of course, that damn chip in his spine had a countdown clock in it.

She shook her head at her own naïveté. Of course he could die. But if anyone was larger than life, Shane fit the bill. “Are we finished?”

“Not even close.” The detective slapped his notebook shut. “I’m assuming there’s more to your story?”

“Nope.” Oops. She’d also left out the fact that Max believed Shane killed the thugs who’d been waiting at the house for her. “You’ll have to ask Shane after he’s rested up from surgery if he has anything to add.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Malloy stood, stretching his neck.

A nurse in bright purple scrubs bustled around the corner. “Mrs. Dean? You can see your husband now.”

Malloy dropped back into the chair. “I’ll wait so we can finish our discussion.”

Josie stood. “I thought we had finished.”

“Not even close.” The detective smiled.