Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) (33 page)

Voices echoed from the kitchen. Was this the police? He backed up against the wall, trying not to breathe so hard they could hear him. Then he gazed up at the ceiling, and silently asked the angel for one thing.

If he was about to die, he hoped it didn’t hurt.

• • •

Cary and Danny moved into the woods to get to the back of the house.  Turner was going to cover the front door as Danny and Cary went in the back. They all set their phones on vibrate, so they could reach each other if they had to.

“Remember, let me talk,” Cary whispered as they stepped out of the woods to the side of the garage and stared at the back porch. “I think this kid is upfront. He wants to turn himself in.”

“I don’t think so,” Danny said, motioning toward the back of the garage. “He’s here. But he has company.”

Cary walked a few feet to see what Danny was talking about. A Honda Civic took up the space behind the black Chevy truck. Disappointment knotted his stomach.

“Isn’t that the type of car the shooter drove when they tried to take you and Chloe out?”

“Yeah,” Cary muttered. He’d really wanted to believe this kid was trying to come clean. Frowning, he pulled his phone out and dialed Turner. “There’s two cars here. One is the same make, model, and color as the one that shot at Chloe and me. This might not be what I thought it was.”

Right then, gunfire exploded.

Cary and Danny bolted to the garage for cover.

“You okay?” Turner’s voice echoed from his phone.

“Yeah.” Cary recalled the sound of the shots. “It came from inside. They aren’t shooting at us.”

“Shots fired,” Cary heard Danny calling it in.

“Guess we aren’t gonna need that warrant after all,” Turner’s voice rang out.

“Same plan,” Cary said. “You cover the front. We’ll go in the back.” He paused. “Turner, be careful,” Cary said.

“Always,” Turner replied. “Ditto for you guys.”

For one second, Cary thought about Chloe. Then he hung up the phone and nodded at Danny. Weapons drawn, they moved toward the back porch and saw that the door had been knocked down.

• • •

It happened so fast. The sound of the door coming down. Jax’s voice booming through the empty house. The gun felt cold in J.D.’s hands. Or maybe his palms were just sweating.

He stared at the door.

Waiting for Jax to appear.

He couldn’t breathe.

He felt hot and cold at the same time.

Then something inside him propelled him to run for the bathroom. As he made the dash, Jax appeared at the door.

He held out his gun at a forty-five degree angle. The sound exploded in J.D.’s ear. The bullet caught him in his shoulder and threw him against the wall. It felt icy hot. But no real pain.

For one second, he considered returning fire, but again felt compelled to move to the bathroom.

Another bullet sounded as he turned. He ran into the wall, and the gun fell from his hand. More popping rang in his ear. Puffs of white appeared beside him as the sheetrock took the hit.

He made it to the bathroom, swung around, and locked himself in. He ran away from the door, knowing what Jax would do. He was right. Bullets splintered the wood and entered the sheetrock on the other wall.

They were going to get in. They were going to kill him.

He glanced down at his shoulder. Blood oozed from the wound. It still didn’t hurt. That had to be the angel, didn’t it?

“Police! Put your guns down!” a voice rang out. Not Jax’s or Pablo’s. Could the police really be here?

J.D. closed his eyes, leaned against the tile wall.

More gunfire exploded. This time, it wasn’t aimed at the door. Jax and Pablo were shooting at the cops.

Suddenly realizing he couldn’t stand there and let them kill the cop, he looked around for anything he could use as a weapon.

• • •

Cary stormed in, announcing himself. From the doorway, he saw two of them. Bullets sprayed down the hall, thankfully missing both him and Danny. These guys weren’t planning on going down easy.

He and Danny darted behind the wall of another bedroom.  The sound of glass breaking came from the front of the house. No doubt Turner wanted to be part of the action.

“You’re outnumbered,” Cary called. “Throw down your weapons, or they’ll be taking your asses out of here and straight to the morgue.”

“We’re not playing games,” Danny yelled out, letting the guys know Cary wasn’t alone.

“It’s not a good day to die,” Turner’s voice echoed from the living room.

“Too bad, because you’re all dead!” someone said, and more bullets sounded.

Cary didn’t see it coming. But he felt it. As if someone had hit him on the side of his chest with a hammer. The blow, or maybe the pain, slammed him against the closet door. The air he’d held in his chest escaped in one big gush.

Chapter Thirty-six

“Damn it!” Cary muttered, looking down to see a hole in the side of his shirt. It hurt, but he could still breathe. He yanked up his shirt and checked the vest as a bullet rolled to the floor.

Danny looked back, his gaze filled with panic. “You hit?”

“The vest caught it,” Cary muttered, realizing Chloe had saved his life.

He went back to the other side of the door.

The guy standing in the entrance of the hallway turned toward the living room, toward Turner. Without thinking, Cary moved out and took his own shot.

The guy slammed against the wall and screamed.

“Now you’ve done pissed me off!” The guy still in the bedroom yelled. “I’m gonna—” His words came to an abrupt halt at the same time a loud crash echoed.

“He’s down,” a voice came from the bedroom.

Danny looked at Cary with questions.

“J.D.?” Cary called out.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Did you shoot him?”

“No. I knocked him out.”

“That’s good,” Cary said, still feeling a little short of breath. “I’m gonna need you to step out of the room with your hands over your head.”

“You gonna shoot me?” J.D. asked.

“No,” Cary said. “But we have to make sure you don’t have a gun. You understand?” Cary heard Turner requesting an ambulance on his cell phone.

“Yeah,” the kid’s voice sounded weak.

In a few seconds, the young boy, even paler than his normal albino state, stepped out in the hall. Blood, lots of blood, ran down his shoulder onto his light blue shirt. He wobbled on his feet.

“Get on your knees,” Cary said.

The kid did, though he almost fell doing it.

“Lie face down on the floor and put your hands behind your back.”

The boy complied. Unfortunately, now his hand rested only a foot away from the gun the other gang member had dropped when shot.

“Stay away from the gun!” Turner yelled, stepping into the doorway, his weapon aimed at J.D.

“You shot?” Cary moved out quickly and kicked the weapon a few feet away. Then kneeling down, he started searching the kid for a gun.

“Yeah,” the boy said, his voice low.

Turner moved in the hall, giving the gun another shove farther away. He pointed his gun at J.D. as Cary searched the kid for weapons.

Cary looked up at Turner, hoping to convey to his friend that he had this. “You got anything sharp in your pockets?” he asked the teen on the floor.

“No.” J.D. said.

Danny, gun still drawn, brushed against Cary and moved into the bedroom where J.D. had just walked out..

“He’s clean,” Cary said, looking at Turner.

“Cuff him,” Turner said.

“I gotta do this,” Cary said to J.D.

“I know,” the kid said, sounding defeated.

Cary put the cuffs on him, but made sure they were comfortable. “Can I help you get up?” he asked.

“Yeah,” J.D. said.

“He’s secure,” Danny said walking out of the room.

Cary looked back at Turner cuffing the unconscious teen. “Is he. . .”

“Alive. Yes,” Turner said.

Danny chuckled. “He used the toilet lid to knock him out.”

“It’s all I could find,” J.D. said.

“It worked, that’s what matters.” Cary went to pull him up, but the boy’s knees buckled and he landed on his butt. “We’ve got an ambulance coming, okay?”

He looked up at Cary and then down at his shoulder. “The angel answered my prayer. It doesn’t hurt.”

“What angel?” Cary asked, half expecting to see Beatrice Bacon pop up.

The boy blinked as if fighting to stay conscious. “The phone, it’s under a piece of loose floor by the window . . . in the bedroom. The video’s on it.”

“That’s good.” Cary said. “Lean your head back and relax.”

“I . . .  Sorry I shot you. I didn’t really mean to hit you.” The boy’s eyes fluttered shut. “I was . . . I was scared. I thought you’d duck and I could drive away.” His head slumped over.

“J.D.” The boy didn’t answer. “Shit. I said relax, not die!” Cary knelt down and laid the kid flat. Blood poured out of his shoulder.

“J.D.? Stay with me. You are too damn young to die.”

Cary yanked off his vest, pulled off his shirt, bundled it up, and held it against the wound, hoping to slow down the bleeding.

“Careful with the blood!” Turner snapped.

Cary looked up briefly. “Get help here now!”

“They’re on their way.” Minutes later, sirens echoed outside. The paramedics charged in and started doing what they did best. Saving lives.  Right behind them came Chase Kelly and Jason Dodd.

Turner showed up and handed a shirtless Cary a Glencoe police jacket. Cary slipped it on and then made sure the paramedics worked on J.D. first. The kid in the hall, the one Cary had shot, appeared in bad shape, but he’d woken up and the paramedics seemed to think he’d live to spend a long time in prison. Only then did panic fade and he realized he could have taken that kid’s life.

The guy who’d had his head bashed in, who Turner had identified as the leader of the Black Bloods, had come to as well, and was giving the paramedics hell.

Still finding it hard to breathe, Cary leaned against the wall and placed a hand over his sore ribs. It could have been so much worse. And would have, if not for Chloe.

Cary didn’t leave the kid’s side until the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance and drove off. They didn’t say how bad it was, but Cary could see from their expressions, it wasn’t good. As Cary stood by the street watching them drive off, he couldn’t help but wonder if J.D. was in Room Six right at that moment.

“Be good to him,” he muttered to himself, imagining Beatrice Bacon’s face.

“What?” Danny asked from behind him.

“Nothing.”

“You okay?” Danny asked, glancing at Cary’s hand pressed to his side.

“Just bruised.”

“I guess the vest came in handy,” Danny said.

A female paramedic walked up right then. “Okay, tough guy, come with me and let’s take a look at you.”

“I’m fine,” Cary said.

“Take the jacket off and let her look at you,” Chase Kelly called out. “It’s that, or I’ll have them haul you to the hospital, too.”

“Never known that guy to have a hard time taking his clothes off for a woman,” Danny muttered and everyone laughed.

“Yeah, he did that stripping undercover gig, didn’t he?’ Jason Dodd asked..

Frowning, Cary followed the paramedic to the last ambulance and stood in the back where the light spilled out.

“Pull your jacket off,” she said and smiled at him as if she’d heard what the guys had said.

He removed the jacket and let her see his side. She looked and then pressed a few fingers to his side. “You’re bruised,” she said. “You might need to be X-rayed just to make sure your ribs aren’t cracked.”

“They aren’t cracked. I’ve felt that once, it’s just a bruise.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Fine, but if you start hurting . . .”

“I won’t. Thanks.”

She smiled. “Just doing my job. But anytime a good-looking cop takes his shirt off for me, it reminds me of why I love my job.”

He realized she was young and pretty and three weeks ago, he’d have been trying to get her phone number. He didn’t want her number. The only number he needed was Chloe’s. And he needed to call her. He would, as soon as he secured all the evidence.

“It’s always good to like your work,” he said to the paramedic and started back to the house.

“You need to be seen by a doctor?” Chase asked, still standing on the porch.

“No, the paramedic agrees it’s just a bruise.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but close.

He walked into the house and into the bedroom, looking for a loose piece of flooring. Walking around the window, he tapped his foot on the wooden planks. One finally felt loose. Dropping to his hands and knees, he pulled it up, and sure as hell a phone was hidden there.

“Hey, guys!” he called out and brought everyone in.

Five minutes later, using gloves, they played the phone’s videos.

While it didn’t show the shooting, it showed Tommy with half his head missing.

“Damn,” Turner said. “What kind of freak would film that?”

“The stupid kind,” Chase Kelly said. “He’ll go down for this.”

At the end, it even showed J.D. in the corner of the street, puking. Evidence that J.D. wasn’t cut out of the same cloth as the other gang members.

Running a hand over his face, he prayed the kid lived and that the DA would offer him a good deal. And while he prayed, he added a thought about the kid he’d shot. He might have deserved to be shot, but Cary didn’t deserve to have his life on his conscience.

Ten minutes later, he, Danny, and Turner all stood back on the porch with Chase Kelly and Jason Dodd as the CSI guys went over the place.

“Good work,” Chase said to them all, but his gaze lingered on Cary.

“Good work would have been if no one was shot.” Cary knew he hadn’t had a choice, but it didn’t make it okay.

“They’re all alive. That’s what matters,” Chase said.

“You called it right on the J.D. kid,” Danny piped up. “And I admit, I thought you had it all wrong.” He shook his head. “That kid would have died if you hadn’t shown up.”

He still may die.
“I should have listened to the messages earlier and he wouldn’t have been shot.”