My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding (20 page)

Jemma felt physically ill at what she overheard. She looked down at the inquisitive eyes of Mike and Tony, but decided against letting them know what Stacy planned. She placed her finger to her lips in a shushing motion and listened to Kate groan in an attempt to talk through the tape over her mouth.

Finally, the room quieted. Jemma looked back through the window. Kate lay on her side, her head raised, looking toward her. She winked at Jemma and flailed around on the squeaky bed to mask the sound of the window opening.

With background noise, it only took a few seconds to shove it open fully.

Jemma stuck her head in and wriggled her body through until her hips wedged. Stacy's hateful voice carried down the hallway, bringing Jemma's efforts to a sudden halt.

"I told you! No one can hear you. All you're accomplishing is noise."

Kate resumed her wriggling and squeaking, and Jemma squeezed herself the rest of the way through. She turned around and gave the guys the thumbs up then tip-toed over to Kate's bedside.

Jemma leaned in close and whispered, "When I rip this tape off of your mouth, it's going to hurt like hell. Are you ready?"

Kate nodded emphatically.

"Okay, start squeaking the bed again."

Kate released a groan and rolled her eyes, wiggling her legs back and forth.

Jemma worked a corner of the tape loose until she produced enough to grip between her fingers. She raised an eyebrow at Kate to make sure she was ready.

Kate nodded her reply. The wiggling of her legs became a pain reaction when Jemma tore the tape from the tender flesh of her mouth.

"That is the worst one, I promise." Jemma stared at the swollen red rectangle framing Kate's lips. "Hey, at least you won't have to wax your upper lip for a while now."

Kate gave a low, almost silent groan, muttering, "Only you would be able to find a bright side to this kind of situation."

Jemma busied herself pulling pieces of tape from Kate's hands. As she was finishing her ankles, the doorbell rang, startling them both.

"That's Mike and Tony, I bet," Jemma whispered.

Kate released a sigh of relief.

With Kate free, Jemma inched her head out into the hall until she had a view of the living room. Dalton crouched by the front window, pulling the shade away far enough to see who stood at the front door. Stacy sat in a tattered rocker near the kitchen, pointing the remote at the television, flipping through channels with nonchalance as though this were just another evening at home.

Dalton's head whipped around toward Stacy, his jaw clenched. "Turn that damned thing off
now
."

Stacy switched back to disgruntled child as she clicked the television off and threw the remote control across the room at him. Folding her arms across her chest, she tucked her fists into her armpits in a huff.

"Damn it all to hell." Dalton slumped down onto the floor and sat with his back propped against the wall.

"What? Who's there?"

"Kate's cousin and Jemma's brother."

"How in the hell did they find us up here? I thought you said no one but me knew where your mom lived."

"Jemma knows, but it was a long time ago. Plus, I didn't think anyone would find her in the cellar. Damn it. That bitch has the memory of an elephant." Dalton crawled toward a bag next to Stacy's chair.

"And an ass to match, if you ask me."

Jemma scowled and clenched her fists to her side, a heartbeat away from barreling down the hall and slamming them into Stacy's face.

One more thing to add to her later-list.

Dalton pulled a shotgun from the bag. She sucked in a breath of panic and turned to Kate, mouthing the words 'he's got a gun.' They exchanged fearful glances.

Dalton barked at Stacy, "Here, you aim this toward the hallway in case Kate gets loose or something."

Staring at the open chamber of the gun, Stacy asked, "What good is an unloaded shotgun?"

Jemma shrugged her shoulders.
Okay, so maybe Stacy isn't a complete moron.

"It's for show. I don't expect you to actually have to use it."

"Well, if
I'm
smart enough to know it isn't loaded, then Tony and Mike will probably know it, too. And what if someone comes after me, and I need to defend myself?"

Dalton cussed under his breath as he pulled two shells from his bag, slipping them into the barrels. "I can't stress to you how much money you'll cost me if you fire this shotgun. This is a collectible American Arms Grulla #2 hammerless double barrel, and the only way I'll ever get my money back out of this is if it remains unfired." He placed a finger under Stacy's chin and forced her to look directly at him. "Do you understand me? Do not, under any circumstances, fire this gun unless someone is trying to kill you. You can act as menacing as you want, but if you pull that trigger, I'll use the gun on you myself."

"I thought you loved me." Stacy sucked her bottom lip in and inhaled a staccato breath.

Dalton squeezed her chin, shaking her head with one hand, while shoving a finger in her face with the other. "No. None of the drama, I can't…" He shoved her away. "No, I won't deal with it now. Just point the shotgun down the damn hall." He turned his attention back to the bag, pulled out a handgun, and snapped a full magazine of ammunition into it with the butt of his hand. "Now this one, I can fire it all I want."

Jemma stared, frozen in fear, trying to figure out how to warn Tony and Mike. She slid back into the bedroom and stared at Kate, who mirrored the terror in her own eyes. "What do we do?" Jemma whispered.

Kate placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Tony and Mike will be fine. It won't do us any good to run out there and get shot."

"So, what, are you reading my mind now?" Jemma released a quiet snort.

The doorbell rang again and again. Finally, Tony started yelling, "I know you're in there. Open the door and face me like a man."

Jemma peeked into the hallway again just as Dalton flung the door open and shoved the pistol inches from Tony's face.

"Is this man enough for ya?" Hatred and anger overcame Dalton, replacing any shred of common sense he may have had, not that there was ever much to begin with.

Tony didn't flinch, and Mike appeared beside him.

"Well, here we are again," Dalton huffed, "just like the night of my wedding, only this time the playing ground is a little more fair." He traced the gun barrel down Tony's nose, chin, and neck, coming to a stop at the center of his chest. Dalton tightened his finger on the trigger, gripping the handle with both hands.

Mike reached around and put a hand up in between the men. "We can settle this without violence or bloodshed. We want Kate back. That's all we came for. You and Stacy can disappear and have your own little warped happily ever after."

"Oh, so now that I have the upper hand, you want to settle this without violence. What happened when you guys caught me from behind and beat me up? Two on one is not fair, unless the one person is holding a gun." A crazy look rounded his eyes, as he adjusted his grip on the gun, his finger flinching at the trigger. "I think I'm actually going to enjoy killing you both."

Jemma couldn't stand around and watch any longer. "No!" She bolted out of the room and into the hallway.

Stacy's stunned expression only lasted a millisecond before the same demented look crawled across her face. She squeezed the trigger of the shotgun without even standing up. Buckshot filled the air, peppering Jemma in the arm and shoulder, with the bulk of it going over her head and through the roof. The recoil from the massive twelve gauge firearm and Stacy's poor grip caused the rocking chair, with Stacy in it, to flip backwards, the gun barrel snapping into her nose. She dropped the gun, screaming in agony, blood pouring through her fingers as she clutched her face. Dalton instinctively turned toward the ruckus, giving Tony the split second to grab the gun and twist Dalton's grip upward.

Jemma fell limp to the ground, holding her shoulder. Blood soaked her blouse and jacket, and pain blazed through her, putting her past injuries to shame. Kate scurried over and helped Jemma out of her jacket, using it to apply pressure to her wounds. Mike darted over and hugged Kate, kissing her as though they'd been separated for months. She returned the kiss, but kept the pressure constant on Jemma's bullet wounds.

Jemma twisted her head to follow the action. Dalton and Tony wrestled for the gun, the men fairly even-matched, pound for pound. Dalton slammed Tony against the wall, each man keeping a death grip on the pistol. Tony gained his bearings and pushed Dalton across the room into the picture window, the glass shattering upon impact, raining to the stained carpet. He screamed in pain, but didn't let go of the gun. He shoved Tony back against the kitchen island, sending dirty plates and glasses crashing to the floor. They crunched their way through the broken glass, and Tony slammed Dalton against the refrigerator, pushing the remaining glass shards imbedded in his back farther into his skin. Dalton squealed again, but would not let go of the gun. No doubt, he knew his very life depended on his firm grip.

Jemma attempted to push herself into a sitting position, but the room teetered, and she fell flat on her back. Mike ran toward the loose shotgun, but Stacy saw him, abandoned her nose bleed, and latched onto it first, ramming it into his chest, backing him securely against the wall.

Dalton summoned energy from some unknown source and pushed Tony away with one hand, while retaining sole possession of the gun. Tony stumbled across the room and tripped on the overturned chair. He tumbled to the ground with a hard thump, hitting his head and going limp. Jemma pushed past the pain and dizziness, and forced herself into a sitting position. Kate yanked at her good arm, but Jemma pulled away.

She crawled toward Tony, touching his arm. "Are you okay?"

His eyes fluttered open to slits, but quickly rounded. He jumped back up and ran at Dalton, releasing a primal growl.

Tony grabbed the gun and it disappeared between them.

A muted gunshot rang out, and both men tumbled to the kitchen floor among the shattered glass. Unheeding of her wounds, Jemma forced herself to her feet and ran to the man she loved. Both men were motionless, Dalton lying on top of Tony. Blood poured out from between them and pooled on the cluttered floor. Jemma ushered up all of her strength and shoved an unconscious Dalton over to assess Tony's blood soaked clothing. She released a heavy breath when she saw the blood oozing from Dalton's groin. Tony opened up his arms, and she fell into his embrace.

Stacy's piercing wails filled the air, followed by the loud thud of the discarded shotgun as she darted to her man's side. "Dalton's been shot! Someone call 911!" The faint shrill of sirens already howled in the distance.

Mike walked over to her, the shotgun in his grasp and aimed at them. "They've already been called about a kidnapping, so that shouldn't be a problem."

Stacy picked up a dirty dishtowel and pushed the filthy rag onto the bleeding gash on his upper thigh.

He opened his eyes and glared at her. "You ignorant cunt, I told you
not
to fire that shotgun."

Stacy shook her head and said, "Excuse me?"

Two policemen kicked the door open and entered the trailer, guns drawn. "Everyone freeze!"

Dalton's mom walked out of the hallway, squinting into the bright light. Her filthy, over-processed blond hair was squashed on one side from sleep. Her clothing consisted of a short T-shirt clinging to her saggy breasts and skimpy underwear that did little to contain her over grown pubic region. Her over-done, smeared makeup completed her clown-like appearance.

She sucked the life from a cigarette as she sauntered into the living room. "What the
hell
is going on in here? Can't you tell I'm trying to sleep one off?" Her voice was raspy, her tone nonchalant.

The policemen looked at each other in disbelief. One of them finally asked, "Ma'am, is this your house?"

"Who wants to know?"

Again, they shared a confused look. The same officer pointed to the badge on his uniform and said, "The Kansas City Police Department wants to know."

She flipped her palms up in a blasé surrender motion. "The place actually belongs to my ex-husband, if you want to be technical. He's currently serving eight to ten if you'd like to talk to him. All I want to know is who plans on paying for all of this."

The other officer waved his gun toward the blood soaked kitchen. "Who called about the kidnapping?"

Mike raised his hand and said, "That would be me, sir. Can you call an ambulance for my sister?"

"One is on the way. Care to tell us what happened?"

Dalton attempted to sit up, but fell flat onto his back again. "That bastard shot me; that's what happened!" He pointed a finger at Tony and released an overly dramatic groan of pain, throwing an arm across his forehead.

Tony rose to a standing position, and the officer shoved the barrel of his gun in his direction. "I told you to freeze!"

Tony raised his hands in front of his body. "I'm sorry. I did shoot him, but only after
he
shoved the gun in my face and I wrestled him for possession. It wasn't my intent to fire the weapon."

"Which one of you is Dalton Blackwell?" the policeman asked.

Everyone in the room, including Stacy, pointed at Dalton.

"Dalton Octavius Blackwell, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…"

"Wait a minute! I get shot and you arrest me? What the hell?"

"We got a call from Michael Keith."

Mike waved a raised hand at the officer.

"And another from a Mr. McCallister in Springfield saying that you abducted his daughter outside of the courthouse. Which one of you is Kate McCallister?"

"Me," Kate called out from the hallway.

The officer tossed her his cell phone. "Call your dad. He's worried sick."

"Thank you, sir."

He turned his attention back to Dalton. "If you do not have an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the courts."