Kill Shot (2 page)

“No. Just leave it alone.” Oz raked his fingers through his hair again. Succinctly, he told the patrol officers what had happened and guided Micki through her statement without another teary breakdown.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist. “You can’t touch anything in the car,” he said. “Someone fired a round through your back window. There’s a bullet hole in your hatch and the techs will want that bullet. It’s all evidence until the crime lab releases it.”

Micki sucked in her breath, panic clawing at her gut. “I can’t leave it.” Micki felt helpless, an emotion frequently experienced in Oz’ company. Her jaw tightened. She realized the feeling of being overrun had been missing from her life as long as she and Oz had been apart.

“What do you have in there anyway?” he growled.

Teetering on the edge of hysteria, she shrilled “My life!” Overwhelmed, Micki jerked her wrist from Oz’ grasp and took a step back. “My cameras are in the bag, as well as my appointment book. If you want to put me out of business, just steal my camera bag.”

“Don’t tempt me.” His bitter expression revealed the ocean of anger directed toward her chosen profession. Anger Micki knew had been generated when she chose a career over the world he had offered.

Micki shook her head. Facing separation from her precious cameras on top of being shot at was more than she could bear.

Oz’ lips tightened in a familiar frustrated manner. He wrapped both arms around her and swung her effortlessly onto the sidewalk. “Come on, Micki. Let the men do their job.” He gave her a dark, searing look as he held out his hand to point to the place he wanted her to walk. He had always placed her close to the building whenever they’d walked together because he thought he was shielding her from traffic and passersby with his own body.

She had considered it old-fashioned. Now, still simmering from his overbearing treatment, she felt suffocated.

He guided her to his car, parked in an underground assigned space.

She wondered why he’d moved here when he’d led her to believe that all he wanted to do was stay in the old neighborhood and make babies with her.

Things change. People change. Maybe the break up had been a good thing for Oz. His new girlfriend looked like a teenage boy’s wet dream in Jimmy Choos.

Micki crawled into his car and opened the driver’s side for Oz because the electric lock was still broken. An old habit. She exhaled, willing herself not to revert to any other old habits.

Oz climbed in, turning in his seat to look at her. His eyes were the color of Godiva dark chocolate and he could break your heart with a single glance from under his long fringe of lashes.

“So, why’d you call me?” He was making an effort to sound casual, but Micki knew him too well.

She kept her voice light. “I don’t know, Oz. I shouldn’t have.” She bit her lip. “I know you’ve moved on and I respect that. I just didn’t know who else to call.”

He huffed out a snort. “Did you consider 911?”

She met his razor-sharp gaze. “Cold, Oz.”

“Hey, babe. You’re the one who left me.” He turned away and started the car, adding under his breath, “You’re the one who said you didn’t need me.”

A knot of anger clutched at her gut. “Look, I said I’m sorry. I can get a cab.” She reached for her door handle, but his hand shot out to stop her. The touch of his skin against hers was like a shock wave, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

Once Oz was assured that she was properly restrained, he cast a heartrending glance at her before shifting into reverse with a rough jolt.

When they emerged from the underground parking structure, the black and white was still parked beside her damaged vehicle, its lights flashing. The sight of her car sitting at the curb, glass broken, surrounded by flashing lights caused her throat to close up. She tried to breathe, but unshed tears clogged her airways.

Oz turned into traffic. “Where are you living now? I heard you moved out of your parent’s place. I guess the old neighborhood doesn’t fit with your new image.”

Micki caught the sharp edge to his voice. Oz hadn’t treated her with sarcasm before. It was easier this way. If he had been charming at that moment she might have forgotten their past, might have begged him to take her back. “I live in a brownstone on East Grayson. Third floor.”

Micki glanced at his fine profile and tried to squash the sea of memories threatening to swamp her. Drowning in a morass of recollection, she cast about for a safe topic.

“How are your parents?” She pictured Oz’ dark-eyed Italian mama and his big, broad-shouldered German dad. Oz got each of their best traits.

“They’re fine. Mama asks about you all the time. She asks me why I don’t get back together with you.” He favored her with another stabbing glance.

Micki smiled sweetly, her voice taking on a sugary tone. “But you have a new girlfriend. I’d think your mama would have latched onto her as the prime incubator of Osmond grandchildren.”

Oz made a scornful sound from the back of his throat.

Micki ignored it, keeping her gaze glued to the view just over the dashboard.

They drove along, the silence heavy and dark. Micki concentrated on breathing in and out, but Oz’ clean masculine scent was roiling up old memories.

“So, how’s it going out there on your own?” he asked “Are you seeing anybody?”

Micki heard the pain in his voice and realized how much it cost him to ask that question. “No, I’ve been trying to get my career off the ground.”

“Ah, yes, the big important career. How’s that going for you? Does it keep your feet warm at night?”

She shot him a withering glance, which was apparently out of juice. “If you’re going to keep taking cheap shots at me, I’ll get out right here.”

“You’re not getting out here. I’m taking you to your new, independent career girl apartment.”

Micki pressed her lips together and settled back in her seat. She closed her eyes in hopes of shutting out the vision of Oz, angry and hurt.

When he turned onto Grayson, she sat up. “It’s right up here. I can jump out.”

“Stop!” He heaved a loud sigh. “I’ll see you up, Micki. It’s the least I can do after being such a jerk.” He nosed into a parking space and pocketed the key. “Sorry,” he murmured as he climbed out and slammed his door.

Micki’s jaw dropped open.
Was that an apology? From Oz?

He opened her door and held out his hand to her. When he’d pulled her to her feet, he was standing way too close. The emotions flowing between them were like an electric current, hot and dangerous.

When she looked into his eyes, a dark vortex swirled, pulling her too near the center, where she could be swallowed up in him, become a mindless accessory to him, need him...She swayed toward Oz and abruptly stopped herself.

Micki turned her back on the scorching look he gave her. She ran lightly up the three flights of stairs to her independent career girl apartment with Oz following close behind. Unlocking the door, she turned to Oz, suddenly shy.

“I...Would you like to come in?”

“What do you think?” One side of his mouth quirked up in an attempted smile, sending a rush of butterflies to her stomach.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and led the way inside. Looking around the cozy, sun-filled living room, she attempted to envision it as Oz might be seeing it. It was small but cheery, crammed with hand-me-downs and a few yard sale items. The kitchen opened off the living room and her bedroom was to the rear with a window looking out on the alley. There were blackout curtains that she drew across the archway to the kitchen when it doubled as a darkroom for her black and white photography. Someday she’d have a proper studio, but that was a long time away. In the meantime, this worked for her.

Oz walked around, without invitation, inspecting her quarters.

“What’s the verdict?” She wondered why his opinion mattered, but it did.

He’d come to the fireplace, closed up with a gas heater sitting below the mantle. He stared at a framed photograph of the two of them together, and then sadly picked it up, grazing their faces with his fingertips. He looked up, his expression saying more than the terse words he’d been hurling at her for the past hour. His raw emotion brought back all the pain of their parting.

Micki steeled herself. Her words came out in a rush. “Look, Oz, I know you’re angry with me and I’m sorry because I don’t feel anything but love for you. I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” A sharp pang squeezed her heart. Her voice broke. “It’s killing me to know that I hurt you.” The sting of tears closed up her throat.

He carefully set the photograph back on the mantle, his voice husky when he spoke. “It’s good to know that you still love me.” He turned to face her, another attempted smile quirking his mouth. “I’d hate to see the way you’d treat me if you didn’t.”

A tight band constricted her airway. She couldn’t draw a breath. She turned away, gazing out the bay window facing the front of the building. She rested a knee against the cushion of the small curved window seat, grinding her nails into her palms to keep from giving way to tears.

After a silence, she realized that Oz had come to stand behind her.

“I’m sorry, Micki. I can’t handle small talk when the wound is still fresh. Maybe some other time when I don’t care so much.” He brushed against her hair with his finger tips.

Oz started his car and sat with the motor idling, staring up at her bay window. The last person he thought he’d see today was Micki Vermillion wearing his favorite shirt and it was eating a hole in his gut.

She looked good, so good she made him ache for her all over again. Holding her in his arms had rekindled all his old feelings, still raw from the break up.

When he’d heard her voice on the phone, his heart had stopped beating in his chest. She was in trouble, of course. Otherwise she would never have called him. She had made that pretty clear when she walked out on him.

He felt guilty for being such a jerk to her earlier. It was only self-defense. He’d tried to steel his heart against whatever she used to bewitch him, to keep him off balance. But when she’d driven up and looked at him with those big, childlike blue eyes, so trusting that he could make whatever was troubling her go away, his resolve had melted. He was the same big, clumsy boy with a crush on the golden-haired, dimpled girl. He’d tried to be her hero, even then.

Whenever she was watching he’d swung the bat harder, climbed higher in the tree, sunk more baskets.

She had been his inspiration and her approval, his reward. He’d won her. He’d treasured her. Micki was the one thing in his life he’d been certain of. Then, sure of her answer, he’d proposed and she’d dumped him.

If a man could die from love, Oz would have preferred to be dead than to have gone through the agony of Micki completely removing herself from his life. Now she was back and she said she loved him, but it was clear that she still didn’t want him.

#

CHAPTER TWO

Micki’s claw foot bathtub held a special place in her heart. She’d found it on the curb in Jersey and stood guard over it while a friend brought a truck and several more pals to load it.

When she had been able to have it installed, she painted the outside an azure blue and then silver-leafed over it. Where the silver crackled, the blue color peeked through. A couple of layers of clear poly had sealed and protected it from the moisture present in a bathroom. She painted a stylized undersea mural on the walls, giving in to her mermaid fantasy. Her bathroom was her sanctuary.

She poured a capful of bubble bath into the tub and turned on the taps. The sound of rushing water resounded off the tiles, insulating her from the trauma of the day. Here she was safe from high-powered rifles and shattering glass. She lit lavender-scented candles, a talisman against unknown demons. She knew she was in danger from a far greater threat.

Oz.

She shivered, recalling his fierce gaze when first he’d seen her. And the way her insides turned to jelly when he held her. She hung her robe on the hook, resolutely ousting Oz from her thoughts.

She inhaled the scent of lavender, allowing the fragrance to cleanse her spirit.