Page 31 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
“You have any guns up here?”
“Yeah, Hanson’s shotguns are in the closet, what’s wrong?”
There are five inside. I grab two of the five, hand her one, and demand, “Get in the closet and stay there until I come for you.”
“WHAT?”
“Stella, now! Go!”
She scrambles to her feet and hides in the closet. One thing off my mind.
I charge downstairs, my mind on high alert. I sneak to the bottom of the stairs. I hate being quiet and stealthy. It takes time. But I can’t give away any advantage.
With no lights, it’s hard to make out what’s happening in the living room. Two men in all black. Two dogs. Max bites one of the men, before the man tosses him onto the couch. Sugar turnsher attention to that man and bites him in the groin. The other man raises his handgun at her.
I shoot first. I walk quickly straight at them, gun on my target. Sugar releases her target and runs from the loud sound of the gun shot. The man I shot cradles his abdomen with his left arm. I’m out of cartridges, but they don’t know that. My gun is aimed at them, and I shout, “GUNS DOWN!”
The man I shot tosses his handgun, before he grunts to his compatriot, “Come on!”
He stumbles backward into the Christmas tree, which teeters but doesn’t fall. They jump for the window they broke into, dog bite guy goes first. I grab the gun on the floor, and as the second guy gets out the window, I shoot him in the ass. He yowls in pain but makes it out. I follow and shoot the other man in the back.
They get into their black Range Rover, and I shoot out the back window, but I can’t make out where their heads are in the dark. I give them each a few shots, just in case I get lucky. But the vehicle drives away.
Damn.
I run back into the house and wedge my way through the window, since I know the door is locked. A gunshot rings out. I’m not hit, but I look for the shooter. Then, I see naked Stella, shotgun in hand. She screams and drops it, then shouts, “Oh my god, are you alright?”
“I’m okay, they’re gone,” I nod. “Max? Sugar?” The pair are hiding under the dining room table, safe but scared. I crouch next to them and they come out. Sugar runs to check on her mama, who finally takes a breath and holds onto her girl. “We’re all okay,” I murmur to Max, who licks my face.
“You’re not okay, Jordan. Your feet,” she says and points down.
I follow her finger and see the shards of glass in them. “I’ll be damned. I don’t even feel it.”
“Not yet. We have to get it out,” her voice shakes. Her eyes are wide, and I can tell she’s about to break.
Need to give her a job to do. Something to focus on. “Gotta first aid kit?”
She shakes her head. “Sorry, I’ve got some alcohol?—"
“Can you run out to my truck and get the kit from there?”
“Of course,” she starts for the door.
“Stella, you’re naked. Put a coat on. And your boots.”
“Right, right.” She does, then grabs my keys, and goes to the truck.
She’s out. No time like the present for something unpleasant. I yank the biggest piece first and scream in a closed mouth, so I don’t scare her and make her rush back inside. Now, onto the smaller pieces.
***
While I work on cleaning up my feet, she sets candles out everywhere at my request. Then, she lights the fireplace. Stella has fetched me a robe, and she’s dressed, so she’s run out of things to do. “What else can I do?”
“Call Wes.”
She nods. “Is there anything else I can do for you first?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
