Jill Shalvis - Serving Up Trouble

Good, that was good.

But God, oh dear God, she wanted to live. She wanted to finish school. Paint. Teach.

Love Sam.

He was in her pocket, on the cell phone. Had he disconnected? No, he wouldn’t, not when he’d so clearly wanted to hold on while she left the store-

He’d known. He’d known and had tried to get her out of here. What was it he’d said? He was only seven minutes away. That had been at least three minutes ago, hadn’t it?

Ellie cocked the gun.

He’d be listening, horrified, helpless. A man like Sam would really hate to feel helpless. He’d blame himself.

Well, she just couldn’t let anything happen, that was all. She’d find a way to keep Ellie talking until she could run free or somehow get control of the gun.

I love you, Sam. No matter what happens, I love you.

She wished she could take the phone out of her pocket and tell him directly, but she was afraid to do that, afraid to alert Ellie to the fact help was hopefully only moments away from charging in here.

And knowing Sam, he would charge in here. He’d put his own life on the line for hers. The thought made her throat tighten un bearably, and she moved very care fully, very purposely, telling herself she would do whatever it took to keep him safe. Alive.

“There are other customers in here,” she said with what she thought was re mark able calm. “Ellie, someone is going to see you.”

“Oh, no, they won’t. I shooed out the only other customer I had when I over heard your phone conversation with your big, nosy cop. I knew it was time, even though I wasn’t quite ready. You’ll have to pay for that, too, as that other customer had a nice armful of books she never got the chance to pay for. You just keep racking up the debt to me.”

Another hard jab of the gun to her back, and Angie bit her tongue rather than give Ellie the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

“Keep walking,” Ellie said sharply. “Behind the counter, that’s a girl. Now into the office you go.”

Angie put her hand on the door handle but hesitated, biting her lip through another malicious jab of the steel. “It’s not too late, Ellie. Whatever you’ve done, it’s not too late.”

“You’re right about that. Move along.”

George was there behind a desk, head bent over some paperwork. When Angie walked in, he looked up and went pale as a ghost. “Ellie, no!”

“Oh, not you, too,” Ellie said in disgust. She propelled Angie into a chair. “It’s done, so don’t start.”

George rose to his feet, looking shaky. “But taking a hostage? And our own little Angie? That was never discussed. I won’t be a part of it.”

“You already are, so sit back down and be quiet while I think a moment.”

To Angie’s dismay, George did as his wife said, just sat back down, looking as if a good wind would blow him over if he didn’t.

Ellie started to pace. “Why couldn’t you be scared off?” she demanded of Angie. “Anyone else would have gotten the message.”

“So it was you?” It all seemed so far-fetched. Ridiculous. “In my apartment? Making those calls? The holdup at the bank?”

“Not the bank.” Ellie made another lap around the office, being careful to keep the gun trained on Angie. “But that started the whole thing.”

Had it been seven minutes yet? It certainly felt like it. It felt like a lifetime.

“It’s where you met your cop. Decided to have a life-altering experience and solve his case.”

“But what does that have to do with you?”

“That suspect you wanted so badly? He’s the only employee who ever earns me any money.” She said this with a disgusted look toward George. “Tommy’s my son.”

On the outside, Ellie looked like the same woman as always, every hair in perfect place in its twist. Lipstick on. Sweater set without a wrinkle.

But her eyes were different, lit with a cruelty Angie had never noticed before. “Your son? Your son is a criminal?”

Ellie locked the gun on Angie so quickly her head spun.

“Now, Ellie, let’s calm down,” George interrupted. “She was just surprised-”

“Oh, shut up.” Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Just shut up and let me think.”

To Angie’s disappointment George once again seemed to sink into himself and refused to look at her. Ellie continued her pacing. Each time the woman briefly turned away, Angie wondered if she had the courage to leap after her. She could do it. She still didn’t believe Ellie would shoot anyone in cold blood, even if she appeared to have lost her marbles.

Ellie made another round.

Then another.

The next one, Angie promised herself. I’ll leap, tackle her down and wrestle the gun free. Her heart started to pound, her every muscle quivered as Ellie paced toward her.

Come on, one more turn.

“You just couldn’t give it up,” Ellie said in disgust. “You had to keep pushing and pushing for information. You were bound and determined to get Tommy in trouble.”

Two more steps and she’d make another turn.

“Pushing and pushing,” Ellie kept muttering, and then she spun on her heel to begin another round of pacing.

Standing up, Angie took a flying leap.

George cried out, a warning to Ellie, an encouragement to Angie, she’d never know which. But at the sound, Ellie whipped around.

With Angie in mid flight, Ellie aimed and fired.

The echo of the blast deafened. And everything switched to slow motion.

Angie’s fall to the floor.

The unspeakable burning ripping through her.

She might have even cried out, but her ears weren’t working any better than her motor reflexes. She hurt more than she could have imagined, and her hand slipped into her pocket as she fell, cupping the cell phone as if she could gain some comfort from Sam that way.

Could he still hear?

She hit the floor hard but didn’t feel it. Maybe it was shock, but she lay where she landed, holding the phone, her lifeline, as an odd warmth came over her.

Then everything started to fade to black.

At the un mistakable sound of the gun going off, Sam’s heart all but stopped.

“What is it?” Luke asked as he drove the crowded streets at a wincing speed.

“I think she’s been shot.” Sam strained to hear some thing from Angie.

And got nothing. Instead he heard George, who appeared to be ranting and raving at Ellie.

“Anything?” Luke demanded, simultaneously talking to dispatch.

Unable to speak, Sam shook his head. He didn’t want to believe it, but his gut was always right.

Angie had been shot.

Luke let out a string of obscenities that would have impressed Sam at any other time, and finally screeched into the parking lot of the book store. “Let’s go.”

Sam stared down at his cell, horrified in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. If he’d lost her…my God. He couldn’t even think it.

“Sam.” This was accompanied by a hard shake, and Sam blinked Luke into focus.

“We’re armed and we have backup on the way. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“No, you’re not.”

He was right. Sam had to be able to shift this aside. He had to focus if he was going to function in there as a cop.

“Sam.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, blew out a hard breath and very purposely put the thought of Angie, bloody and lifeless, out of his head.

“Better,” Luke said, eyes sharp. “Now. You ready? Really ready?”

A grim calm came over Sam and he checked his gun. “Ready.”

They entered the eerily silent store with guns drawn. “The office,” Sam said to Luke. “That’s where they took her.”

Luke nodded, and they made their way through an aisle that had a handful of books on the floor of the otherwise in credibly neat store. Sam stared down at the books and knew that’s where Angie had been. Right there, kneeling, innocently browsing. Fists clenched, he moved faster, behind the counter, toward the closed office door.

No sound came from behind it.

Expecting the worst, Sam and Luke charged into the office, guns drawn. Sam was deadly calm. He was a cop.

Just a cop.

And this was a job, a job he knew well. He would do what it took, whatever it took, to insure the hostage’s safety. Assuming she was still alive.

For a brief flash, his heart cracked, and the image of Angie came to him, sweet and loving and…dead. This he ruthlessly put aside. He couldn’t function if he put her face to this night mare, he just couldn’t.

Then he saw her. She was sitting on the floor, her sweater covered in blood.

Next to her was Ellie, trussed with rope and a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth.

Above them both stood George, holding a gun on his struggling, furious wife.

At the sight of Sam and Luke standing in the doorway, guns trained on him, George went from disgruntled husband to cool criminal, and shifted his aim to Angie.

Her glasses had slipped off, and besides the fact she was squinting uselessly, she was also wildly bleeding. She had a hand over the spot and as Sam watched, she weaved as if she were going to topple over.

“Don’t come any closer,” George said amicably.

“She’s shot,” Sam said hoarsely. “Let me-”

“No.”

But Sam started to move closer anyway, his mind only on Angie.

“Stay right where you are,” George said very coolly. “Unless you want her to take another one.” George nodded when Sam stopped short. “Yeah. Wise move.”

Sam’s gaze flickered over Angie. So much blood. And God, she was pale, so very pale. But her beautiful brown eyes were right on him, squinting with the lack of glasses, but definitely locked on him. Trusting.

Full of love.

His own burned. “Let’s just let her out of here, okay? She can take an ambulance ride and we’ll figure the rest out without her.”