Page 75 of Last Date
“No!” she screamed. Closing her eyes, she pointed the gun in Merrick’s direction and squeezed the trigger.
“Don’t!” I lunged for her as everything seemed to move in slow motion. I grabbed Selena’s waist, heard the bang of her gun, and smelled the pungent scent of gunpowder. I landed on top of her, having no idea if she’d shot Merrick or me. I recovered before her and grabbed the gun out of her limp fingers. She was sobbing, lying on her back like a broken doll.
“Selena,” Captain Roscoe cried hoarsely. “Are you okay?”
Breathing hard, Merrick pulled me off Selena and took the gun from me. “What the hell was that?” he grated out, his angry eyes burning into me. He ran his hand down my torso as if checking for bullet holes. “You could have been killed.”
“She was going to shoot you.”
“So you thought you’d let her shoot you instead?” he asked incredulously. “Honest to God, Kip. Sometimes I think you don’t have a brain.”
“Come on, Merrick.”
He pulled his dark brows together. “I’m a cop. You’re not. How many times do we have to have this conversation?”
Feeling overwhelmed, I slid down onto the couch as my legs gave out.
Merrick gave me a stern look and strode out of the house as uniformed officers swarmed in. Spot cowered next to me on the sofa, barking at anyone who came near us. EMTs arrived next, and Captain Roscoe was carried out on a stretcher as Selena was cuffed and led from the house, bawling.
A policewoman with kind eyes took my statement, but I didn’t see Merrick again. After a couple of hours, everyone cleared out, and I was left with a bloodstained chair, a broken front door, and my wounded pride.
Chapter Twelve
Craig Zimmerman from Zimmerman’s Glass showed up half an hour later. Someone, not me, had had the foresight to call him to repair my door. “We meet again, Mr. O’Connor,” he said cheerfully as he stood on my doorstep with his measuring tape.
“I remember you,” I said. “You repaired my window a few months ago.”
“That’s right.” He held the tape measure up to the doorframe. Tattoos covered his muscular arms, and his shoulder-length gray hair was loose this time around.
“I didn’t know you did doors too.” I still felt dazed from what had happened earlier. None of the many cops who’d trampled through my home had bothered to enlighten me as to how Captain Roscoe had been shot or why he and Selena had decided to come to me for help.
Merrick certainly hadn’t. He’d left without saying a word to me.
“Oh, I fix whatever needs fixing.” He straightened. “I have a replacement door on the truck, but I’ll need to repair the doorframe first.”
“Okay.” I pushed my hands in my pockets. “Any idea how long the whole job will take?”
He scrunched his face. “I’m thinking three hours, tops?”
I glanced at the clock on the bookshelf. It was 11:30 p.m. now. Looked like it was going to be a late night. But I couldn’t very well go to bed with no front door.
“If I can get it done quicker, I will,” Craig offered.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just make a pot of coffee for us. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds amazing, thanks.”
I frowned. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you know who called you?”
He raised his brows. “It wasn’t you?”
“No.”
“Huh, you must have a guardian angel.” Whistling, he headed off toward his van.
