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Authors: Jennifer Apodaca

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BOOK: Thrilled To Death
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He didn't understand. “He's my grandfather.” Tears pricked my eyes and pissed me off. My throat hurt. “I have to help him. TJ and Joel need him as much as I do.” I lifted my chin. “I'm going. He's my family.” He accused me of not understanding family. Well, I understood this—I loved Grandpa and would do anything for him. He needed me.
Still holding my arm, he relented. “Do you have your pepper spray? And can I trust you not to spray me with it?”
He understood. “Yes, and only if you stop ordering me around.”
He flashed a grin, then went back to serious. “Does Rosy have a dog?”
“No.”
“Let's go. Stay behind me.”
I fished my can of pepper spray out of my purse, then shoved the purse under Gabe's seat. I got out and shut the truck door softly like he did. There was a long hedge that divided the yard from the empty lot next door to it. To get to the gate leading to the backyard, we had to run along the house side of the bush. We made it to the six-foot-high wood fence painted a cream color.
I prayed the gate was unlocked.
Gabe pulled the string quietly, and the gate unlatched.
I sighed in relief, and we both went through. Rosy had a roomy half-acre lot. She had a large patio that gave way to gardens with walkways, benches, a butter yellow gazebo, and a toolshed. Her bedroom was on the gate side of the house and faced the gazebo in the back. We found the sliding door. It had vertical blinds that were closed.
Was anyone in there?
My ears buzzed with the high rush of adrenaline pumping through my body. I lifted my hand to touch the window and realized my hands were numb. I was hyperventilating.I forced myself to breath in and out to calm down.
Grandpa was in the house somewhere.
Was Fletch there? If so, how did he get there? I hadn't seen his yellow rental truck in the front of the house. Or was Nikki the killer and Rosy was helping her? But what would they want with Grandpa?
Or was it something innocent like Nikki being sick?
Gabe put his hand on my arm and pushed me behind the protection of the stucco wall. Then he tugged slightly on the sliding door.
I heard the click of the engaged lock resisting. Damn. It had been maybe a minute and a half since we had gotten out of the truck, but it felt like forever. What do we do now? I looked at Gabe.
He moved past me. Next was the kitchen with the regular door, then another sliding glass door, but it was too risky. Someone could see us.
Gabe went past the door, then stopped before the slider.
I slid up behind him and saw that the vertical blinds were pulled closed there too. Gabe hurried past that, and I followed him.
There were two bedroom windows that faced out to the back of the house. They were about chest high to me. Gabe passed the first one and stopped at the farthest window.
It was opened about two inches.
We both listened. There were muffled, long-distance sounds and occasional voices. But we couldn't make them out, which meant they weren't at this end of the house.
Gabe pulled out his keys and used the edge of one to slide in the screen track and pop the screen off. After he set the screen down and put away his keys, he gently slid the window back. We both looked in the opened window. A guest room. The bed wasn't made, and there were clothes piled around. It must be the room Nikki was using. The bed was across the room. Right below the window was a square upholstered chair with a TV remote sitting on the cushion.
How was I going to climb in that window?
But Grandpa was in there. I had to get inside.
Gabe grabbed the edge of the window and hoisted himself up so that he supported his body weight on his hands, arms, and shoulders. He lifted one leg over the windowsill and must have found the chair. He got his balance, let go of the windowsill, and pulled himself the rest of the way in.
All very quietly.
Shit.
I looked around. The lawn furniture was the heavy wood kind that would make a lot of noise to drag over. I turned back around and noticed something.
Gabe was gone from the room.
Damn it! He had realized I couldn't climb in the window and left.
Quick, think!
I reached inside and dropped the can of pepper spray onto the chair. Then I grabbed the edge of the windowsill, trying to haul myself up like Gabe had. I got my ribs high enough to touch the windowsill, then I lost my hold, and my ribs and breasts scraped down the track.
Ouch!
My ribs, boobs, and hands burned. I looked down and saw that my tangerine silk shirt had dirty, gray tracks and a couple tears. My hands were a mess.
Fury rocketed through me. I had to get in there.
I turned and looked around the yard again, desperate to get inside.
The shed! It was tucked back into the corner on this side of the yard. I ran over there. The door was partway open, and I slipped inside. I could smell rich dirt, fertilizer, and other tangy scents.
There was a workbench for repotting plants built against the far wall. And there was a stool! It was the kind I thought of as a Grandma stool, where the seat lifted up to reveal a two-step stool. I grabbed it and hurried back to the window.
Still no Gabe. But I didn't hear any sounds of a confrontation. I climbed up on the stool, held onto the bars of the metal back of the stool, and lifted one leg over the windowsill. I felt my foot land on the arm of the chair. I grabbed the window on one side, the wall on the other, and pulled myself through.
Success! I was through.
I put my foot down to stand on the cushion when a loud rap song suddenly blared out.
What the hell? Startled, I jerked and teetered on the chair. Frantic to keep my balance, I tried to grab the windowsill. My fingers brushed the sill just as I tumbled off the chair. My right shoulder and hip hit the hard carpet. I bit my lip to keep from grunting.
The noisy music filled the room.
Desperate not to be discovered, I pushed up to my knees. Where was the music coming from?
I saw the TV across the room. A music video rocked across the screen. I realized I must have stepped on the remote control that had been on the chair.
Good God, they probably heard all the noise as far as the school down the street! Quickly, I reached to the chair and ran my hands over the flowered chair cushion until I found the remote. I turned to the TV on the far wall and hit the little red power button.
The music died away.
Just the pounding of my heart echoed in the room—and my ragged breathing.
I had to pull myself together. My pepper spray! I kept expecting people to burst into the room. I needed some protection. I dropped the remote on the carpet and, while still on my knees, I searched the carpeted floor for the pepper spray. I found it a couple feet away where it had rolled. I scooped it up, stood, and turned expectantly to the door.
It was closed.
Gabe must have closed it when he left. Had the closed door kept anyone outside the room from hearing? What was going on? I went to the door and pressed my ear to it. I could hear raised voices. I thought one of the voices belong to Grandpa.
How long had we been here in total? I looked at my watch. Five or six minutes.
I reached down, turned the knob, and pulled the door open. The voices were clearer.
“Put it on, or I'll shoot her.”
It took me a second, then I realized that was Fletch's voice. God, what was Fletch doing? I had to get out there. Where was Gabe? I edged out into the hallway. There was a bathroom and the door to the garage on the right side of the hallway. I ignored those. Slowly, I went past the other bedroom. At the edge of the hall, I saw them in the living room.
Nikki was about ten feet from me, in front of the big-screen TV and tied to a kitchen chair. Obviously someone had dragged the chair in and used duct tape to secure Nikki to it. Fletch held a gun to her head and had his back to me.
Grandpa stood closer to the front door. I could see his face if I peeked around the corner, but I didn't think he saw me. He was focused on Fletch and Nikki. He had something that looked like a cross between a vest and a life jacket in his hand. Slowly, he slipped one arm in. “Fletch, you got me here. Now leave Rosy and Nikki alone. You don't need them anymore.”
Where was Rosy? I didn't see her in the living room. I looked left, through a doorway that opened up to the kitchen. I could make out Gabe bent over, but that was all. What was he doing? Helping Rosy?
Fletch kept the gun on Nikki's head and looked at Grandpa. “They
know,
Barney. As soon as we leave, you'll forget all about them.”
He was kidnapping Grandpa! And what was that vest thing Grandpa put on? It seemed to have wires and—I inhaled sharply.
A bomb!
It was a bomb on Grandpa!
Fletch whirled around. He'd heard my intake of breath.
I took a step back and flattened myself against the wall. I held my breath and willed my body to be silent. I lifted my gaze, saw Gabe stand and look at me, then melt away out of my line of vision.
Nothing happened.
Then suddenly Fletch stepped past me, going backward so that he could see me and the room at the same time while he held the gun. He looked at me, his face tight and determined. He didn't look anything like Tobey Maguire anymore, but more like that Chuckie doll. “Who else is here?” he demanded.
“No one.” I had the can of pepper spray in my left hand by my leg.
“Won't matter.” He lifted his other hand. In it he held a remote control of some kind. Fletch looked around the room, then back at me. “You never deserved Barney.” He used his thumb and pushed a button.
Something exploded in a loud percussion as a whoosh of light flashed then died. I smelled of gunpowder or something like that but couldn't make sense of it. My wits scattered, and it took me seconds to recover. I blinked and looked around.
Where was Fletch?
I pushed off the wall, stepped out into the living room, and spotted Fletch running toward Grandpa.
I rushed after him. Gabe got there before me, his gun in his hand, but he pulled up to a stop. I halted right next to him when I realized Fletch held a gun on Grandpa. “Don't do this!” I pleaded.
Fletch shoved the remote control device into the pocket of his blue-checked shirt and looked at me. “The vest Barney is wearing is rigged to explode. I did it myself. Just as I rigged up the bombs in this house.”
“Bombs?” Nothing was making sense. This was Fletch—what did he know about bombs? “You don't want to hurt Grandpa!”
“It's up to you if he gets hurt or not, Sam. I'm taking him.” He narrowed his blue eyes, the freckles standing out against his pale skin. “I'm a magician Barney can be proud of. You didn't even care enough about him to learn magic. You're almost as bad as Shane perverting magic with his spoiler shows.”
“What?” What the hell was he talking about? “I love Grandpa! He knows that!” I turned my gaze to Grandpa, frantic to think of a way to save him.
“Sammy, I love you too.” Grandpa's milky blue eyes were full of that truth.
Fletch pushed the gun into Grandpa's side and forced him a step closer to the opened door. He glared at me. “If you force me to, I'll blow him up, then neither of us will have him.”
“No!” It felt like sharp claws were digging into my heart and lungs. I desperately tried to think, tried to keep Fletch here so we could stop this insanity. I couldn't let him get away with kidnapping Grandpa strapped into a bomb vest. “How do you know about bombs? You blew up the garage when you tried to pack bullets!”
“I've learned since then. The pyrotechnic experts who work on my shows have taught me everything I need to know.”
He was crazy. “Fletch, what about your dad? He's going to be mad if you do this!”
“He'll be proud. I'm making him proud. Shane tried to humiliate me and I stopped him. I'm a real man.” He nudged the gun deeper into Grandpa's side, driving him out the front door. I saw him reach to his front shirt pocket and pull out that black remote control again.
I stood there frozen in horror. Some part of my mind registered that I smelled fire and heard the crackle of hungry flames, but all I cared about was Grandpa. “Don't do this, Fletch!”
He didn't even look back.
Another explosion rocked through the house.
19
E
ven as I heard the explosion, all I could think about was that Fletch kidnapped Grandpa and was getting away. I had to stop him! But before I could take a step, Gabe got his arm around my waist. “He'll kill Barney, Sam.” His voice was loud and urgent. “The house is on fire. We have to get everyone out.”
I fought to clear the rage and panic. Nikki was duct taped to a chair. “Go get Rosy!” I yelled, then ran to Nikki. Her face was pale with splotches of red anger. There was a piece of tape across her mouth. I yanked that off so she could breathe.
“Grandma!” She croaked the word out.
“Gabe will get her.” I fought with the tape. Her arms were down to her sides, and the tape was wound all the way around her entire body and the ladder-back chair several times.
Fletch meant to kill her.
Oh God. It was hot and smoky, the flames making horrible snapping sounds. My fingers slipped on the tape.
“Get out, Sam!” Nikki yelled.
“No!” Tears filled my eyes, my lungs burned, and it hurt to breathe. I was aware that Gabe ran past me. I think he was carrying Rosy, but I couldn't see. The smoke had thickened and invaded every part of my body. All I could think about was that I had to get the tape off Nikki! I couldn't let her burn to death.
Grandpa would be mad.
My fingers slipped and a nail tore. I scratched at the tape, desperate and dizzy.
Suddenly, two large hands landed on my shoulders.
“No!” I knew it was Gabe. He'd make me leave her. Grandpa loved Nikki. “No!” It came out a croak, and I coughed but kept my fingers working the tape.
Gabe pulled me away, lifted me up, and took me outside. I couldn't even see the door. Suddenly, there was light and air. I sucked in a huge lungful of air.
Gabe set me down on my feet at the bottom of the yard by the street. Fire trucks were racing toward us, along with an ambulance and a police car. Sirens, loud engines, and people yelling directions swelled around me.
I looked back and saw Rosy's home engulfed in flames. The horror liquefied my stomach. I grabbed Gabe's arm. “We have to tell them to get Nikki!”
Cal strode up. “Sam, we got her out. She's okay.” He pointed to the spot where the ambulance was parked.
I looked over there. Nikki was still taped to the chair, and a cop and Blaine were trying to cut the tape off. A paramedic had oxygen on her and was asking her questions. I realized that Cal and Blaine must have gone into the house, picked up Nikki and the chair, and got her out. “Thank you,” I told Cal. “What about Rosy?” I didn't see her.
Cal's eyes darkened with anger. “They already have her in the ambulance. Fletch held Nikki hostage and made Rosy bring Barney to the house. But once Rosy did that, she knew Fletch was going to kill them and tried to attack him. He hit her with the gun. She needs a couple stitches, but she'll be okay. Right now, though, she's pretty upset. She begged me to tell you that she's sorry.”
Sorry because some animal tried to force her to choose between her pregnant granddaughter and her friend?
I let go of Gabe's arm and rushed to the ambulance. As I passed Nikki, I saw that they had her free of all the tape and that Vance was talking to her. So Vance was here too.
But I had to see Rosy. I climbed into the ambulance and found her on the bed in a sitting position. Her head was wrapped; it looked like the wound was over her right ear. A paramedic was taking her blood pressure.
I moved up and took her hand.
She looked at me with hollow, tortured eyes. “I'm sorry, Sam! I . . .”
“Oh Rosy, none of this is your fault. Don't blame yourself. It's Fletch's fault. And mine. He was around the whole time and I didn't even realize—” I stopped talking and swallowed hard. This would get us nowhere. “Rosy, you take care of yourself and Nikki. I'm going to find Fletch. I'll bring Grandpa home.”
“She's pregnant,” Rosy said, referring to Nikki in a brittle voice.
I nodded. “She's okay. Gabe's brother and Blaine got her out. But she wouldn't be okay if something happened to you.” The pressure to get moving, to hurry and find Grandpa, built to a ferocious force inside me. As the paramedic took the blood pressure cuff off Rosy, I bent over and kissed her cheek. “Nikki's going to need you.”
“Go on, Sam. Go find Barney.”
I hurried out of the ambulance, becoming aware of an ache in my ribs. It was either from trying to jump up on the windowsill to get into the house or from falling off the chair. I'd worry about that later.
Vance caught my arm and stopped me. I winced, then turned to look at him. “We have to find Grandpa!”
“They took Rosy's car. I have units out looking for a brown Grand Am all over the city. I've notified Highway Patrol. We're doing everything we can.”
It wasn't enough. “Let go of me. I'm going to look for him.”
Vance's handsome face tightened, and he clenched his jaw. “You have blood coming through your shirt and you look like hell. Go to the hospital.”
Was he serious? “I screwed up in there. It's my fault he got away with Grandpa. If I'd let Gabe handle it—”
Vance cut me off. “The end result would have been the same. Once Fletch got that vest on Barney, he had you and Pulizzi under control. That's the fact, Shaw.”
I blinked back tears. “Find him, Vance.”
He nodded, his brown gaze filling with gold specks. “Pulizzi's putting together search teams. He thinks Fletch has a plan and that he holed up somewhere safe with your grandfather where he'll wait until later to try and get out of Elsinore. Any ideas where he'd go?”
I tried to think. “What about the house you found the hit man's body in?”
Vance shook his head. “He'd know we'd look there.”
I didn't know. The horrible failure tortured me. “I don't know. Another house? Have you looked in his motel room?”
“Clean. He's got his stash of guns, etcetera, somewhere else. The room was just a front.” Vance unclenched his hand from around my bicep and slid his palm up and over my shoulder. “Keep thinking about it and call me if anything comes to mind. Work with me, Shaw. Trust me. I'm going to do everything I can to get your grandfather back.”
I shuddered from so much emotion mixing with the contact of his hand and words. I believed him. “I will call you. I just don't know, but I'll try.”
He nodded and took his hand off me. “And stay with Pulizzi.”
I walked away, looking for Gabe. I didn't have time to figure Vance out. I found a bunch of people spread out in the street by Gabe's truck. Blaine, Cal, Lola, several of Blaine's friends, and, to my surprise, Bo were gathered there. Gabe was breaking everyone into teams and then spreading the teams around the city to look for Rosy's brown Grand Am and Grandpa. He gave them the descriptions and instructions. Because of the vest on Grandpa, no one was to approach them but was to call Gabe or Vance.
Bo spotted me, and before I could catch my breath he folded me into his strong arms. “We'll find him, darlin'.”
I nodded against his T-shirt. Then stiffened my back and looked up. “Thanks, Bo. How did you know?”
He let go of me. “Lola called and asked me to help.”
Lola stood between Blaine and Cal with a large tablet of yellow paper and a pen. It looked like she was matching up teams and writing down cell phone numbers. She looked much more like a resourceful friend in a crisis than a useless sexy siren, as Blaine had accused her of being.
Another large car crawled down the street, then stopped. Four old people inched out. Hank, one of Grandpa's coffee and gossip friends, shuffled over. “We're here to help find Barney.”
Tears filled my eyes. Did Grandpa know how much he was loved? “Thank you, Hank.” I went up and put my hand on his arm. I felt a tremor, either age or anger at his friend being kidnapped. Lola walked up. “Sam, get going. I'll get these folks set up to help us.”
I hugged her and walked a couple feet to Gabe.
Gabe swept his gaze down my length. “There's a first aid kit in my truck. Let's go.”
I didn't argue. I went around to the passenger side. Cal was there. He opened the door, then looked down at me. “I'm heading out too. Lola will stay here and coordinate to keep up with Detective Vance. Then she'll go to Gabe's house and work from there.”
I nodded.
He touched my hand. “Hey, Gabe'll find him. Your job is to make sure Gabe doesn't kill Fletch unless necessary.”
“Shut up, Cal. Get in, Sam.” Gabe was already in the driver's seat.
I climbed into the passenger seat.
Cal leaned in. “Gabe.”
Gabe had the engine going, but he left the truck in park and turned his full attention on his brother.
Cal said, “Once you get Barney back, we'll talk. I'm going to need your help.”
My heart skipped a beat. Something powerful passed between Cal and Gabe. I could literally feel the emotion, or connection, that made them brothers. Even with all the anxiety and urgency, the air hung still in the truck for a few seconds.
Then Gabe said, “You got it, Cal.”
Cal stepped back and shut the door, and Gabe put the truck in gear and took off. “The first aid kit is under the seat. Your stomach is bleeding.”
I reached down and pulled out my purse that I had set down there before we went into the house. Then I felt around and came out with a plastic first aid kit. “Where are we going?”
“Your house first. Just in case Fletch goes there.”
I tore open a couple antiseptic wipes, then pulled up my shirt. Ugh. Scraped and ugly, but not serious. “Then?” I dabbed at the blood and sucked in a breath at the sting.
“We're going to look everywhere we can think of. Lola has people spread out all over the city.”
I put the first aid kit away and looked at Gabe's profile. “But?”
“Fletch doesn't seem stupid or ready to get into a chase with the police. I think that whole scenario at Rosy's house was just about delaying us and the police long enough to get to a safe place.”
I thought about that. “If he had wanted to make sure we died, he would have shot us.” That did make sense. “So he had some place ready close by.” My thoughts tripped over themselves trying to figure it out.
Gabe nodded.
“Maybe an abandoned house like he killed the hit man in? I asked Vance about that. He said he wouldn't go back to the same one.” Something else Vance said surfaced. “He said that the motel room was clean and looked like a cover, that Fletch had his guns and other stuff somewhere else.”
“Makes sense.”
Dread slammed into me. “Are we going to find him?”
Gabe turned into the dirt lot in front of my house. Dust kicked up around us as he drove up to the porch, then parked. I heard Ali frantically barking in the backyard. Gabe barely stopped the truck before he opened the door and jumped out. He came around to my side and opened the door, then gently pulled me out of the truck. He looked down at me. “If it's possible, we are going to find him.”
His hands were hard and secure on my waist. I could smell the smoke and sweat on both of us. “Fletch thinks I let Grandpa down by not becoming a magician.”
“That's bullshit and you know it. You love him. You love him so much you are afraid I'm going to make you choose between him and me.”
“You knew that?”
“I know
you
. And I'd never ask you to leave Barney alone, Sam. If our living arrangements ever change, Barney will come too. We'll always have a place for him. But right now, we are going to go out there and find him. So take a deep breath and hold it together, babe. We can do this.”
Something vicious eased in my chest. “Okay, let's do it.”
He leaned forward, just brushing his mouth over mine. Then he turned, pulled his gun out of the back of his pants, and headed for the front door.
Ali's bark turned to pitiful frustration. I felt for her, but I stayed behind Gabe as we went into the house. I knew no one was there as soon as we reached the living room.
The house felt empty.
But Gabe did his cop thing, quickly working his way through the house while I went to the sliding glass door and let Ali in. She came right to me, licking my hand and whining.
She knew something was wrong.
I dropped to my knees and hugged her. “I won't leave you here alone. You'll come with us.” I stood, and Ali ran off to check in with Gabe.
I went to Grandpa's computer and rifled through his notes and printouts. There was the list of magicians whom Shane had victimized with his spoiler shows, along with notes on the financial searches that Grandpa did.
BOOK: Thrilled To Death
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