Page 93 of More Than a Hero
Jimmy had arrived, his face flushed, and his usual confidence tamped down. His smile seemed forced. Angie watched as Jimmy glanced at Tamarcus, then at her, then excused himself to the bathroom.
Still, she kept her tone light. “I’m almost finished helping Mr. Marty with some paperwork for his new hearing aid.”
Tamarcus still said nothing, but kept his eyes now toward the bedroom where Jimmy had disappeared. She looked that way, then back at Tamarcus. His jaw was locked, shoulders coiled tight. His eyes didn’t leave that hallway.
Something was wrong. Angie’s pen stilled on the form.
Jimmy came back out a minute later, posture stiff, eyes scanning the room before they landed on her. He tried to smile, but once again, it didn’t reach his eyes.
That was when she heard it—the low whine of a siren in the distance. Faint at first, but growing louder. Angie turned her head slightly toward the window.
In the split second it took to glance, she saw the flicker of relief cross Jimmy’s face.
But Marty was frowning now, struggling to sit forward in his recliner. “You hear that? You think that’s?—?”
Angie reached to place a calming hand on his arm. “It’s probably nothing. Let’s just?—”
“Don’t move.”
The voice was sharp. She turned, breath catching in her throat. Tamarcus held a gun. Small. Black. Steady in his hand. But his eyes were wild.
“Don’t move,” he repeated, louder. “I swear to God.”
Marty stiffened. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”
Jimmy stepped forward instinctively, moving between Angie and the weapon. “Don’t—don’t hurt anybody. Just?—”
Tamarcus’s hand twitched.
Marty’s eyes flared wide. “You get that thing outta my house!” He reached for his cane, his gnarled hand gripping it like a sword. “I didn’t fight in Vietnam just to sit here and let some fool wave a piece at me in my own damn living room.”
Before anyone could stop him, Marty stood with more strength than any of them expected and whacked Tamarcus on the leg.
“Dammit!” Tamarcus roared, lifting his hand and hitting Marty in the head.
Marty swayed and fell backward, unconscious.
“Mr. Marty!” Angie gasped, rushing forward?—
Tamarcus’s arm shot out, snatching her by the wrist. “Come here, bitch!”
“No! Let go of me!”
“Shut up! You’re coming with me.”
The gun pressed into her side. Angie froze. Her heart pounded against her ribs as Tamarcus hauled her toward the door. Her gaze hit Jimmy’s.
Jimmy tried to grab her, screaming, “No!”
Tamarcus lifted the weapon and pointed it straight toward Jimmy. Angie pushed his arm down as he fired, and the bullet hit the floor. Jimmy dove behind the table, and a teenage boy she didn’t know ran from the bedroom, his gaze wild-eyed, darting around.
“Robert! Down here!” Jimmy cried.
Tamarcus opened the front door and jerked on Angie’s arm, dragging her along. He was strong, and her knee buckled, keeping her from digging her heels in to slow him down.
Several people were now outside screaming. She spied some of the kids and seniors coming out of their apartments. Another gunshot cracked the air, and Angie screamed as the crowd scattered like birds under fire. Doors slammed as the kids were hustled back inside.
Tamarcus dragged her toward the black sedan. But when they reached it, he stopped. “Shit!” he barked.
