Unbreakable Bond (21 page)

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, we’ll see about that," she promised, taking a step closer to me, closing any distance I'd put between us, gun pointed right at her target.

The gun still remained steady. I’d no doubt that if she killed her husband and an innocent actress in cold blood, shooting me would be easy.

My throat felt like I drank a cup of sand. I swallowed hard, but it didn't do much good.

"How will you explain my body?" I asked, almost choking on the word "body" as a self-reference.

She grinned. "Actually, this is the best of all plans, and it fell right into my lap. You lied your way into my home, which several witnesses saw. You were snooping around my late husband's personal belongings, likely looking for the sex video he made with you."

"He never made a-" I started, then realized it didn't matter. Who were the police going to believe? The grieving widow who did, indeed, have a sex video of her husband and another woman, or my prone corpse?

"I walked in and caught you, you attacked me, and I shot you in self-defense."

Damn. She was right. That story was great.

"Now, let's take a walk back to my husband's den where this tragic accident all takes place," she suggested.

As much as I was yearning to walk through that door behind her, I knew if I did it with her, I was a dead woman. I was out of time, out of options, and acting on pure instinct.

"No," I protested.

Veronica paused, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown again. "Excuse me, but you're not in a position to argue."

"You’re overlooking something," I told her, feeling adrenalin surge in my belly.

She raised the gun to eye level. "What’s that?"

I stepped to the left then the right, in jerking movements. "You’re directly in the light."

I lifted my arm and chucked the shoe in my hand, pulling a muscle in my shoulder from the force.

It spun through the air, creating a whoosh sound. The heel whacked her in the forehead then clanked on the floor.

She yelped. One hand flew to her face.

And I took off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

_____

I charged past Veronica and ran through the door. Darkness surrounded me, and I realized I was now in the section of the basement I waited in this afternoon. I’d never seen the door to a separate room.

My ankle hit the stairs, and I fell to my hands and knees. I scrambled to my feet and scampered to the top landing. Veronica’s footsteps were heavy behind me. Her breathing was fast and uneven. Bet she regretted those cigarettes now.

I hit the main hallway and spied the front door. I could run for it, but I knew there was precious little to hide behind outside. And with Veronica hot on my tail, I was no match for the speed of her bullets. Even in the dark, I didn't want to take my chances that her aim was that bad.

Instead, I lunged for the alarm system beside the door. I hit the emergency button, praying someone on the other end would summon the police. Then I ran upstairs, taking two steps at a time, in search of a hiding place to wait out their arrival.

Panic soared as I heard Veronica hit the hallway behind me. I climbed higher in a lopsided stride with one shoe off, one on. I ran past bedroom after bedroom, choosing the master at the end of the hallway. It was located in the back right corner of the house, and I sighed in relief as I stepped inside. There were plenty of places to hide. The shower, under the four-poster bed, the walk-in closets.

I noticed the balcony and opened the French doors. There was only two feet of space, and no way down. Below lay the pool. A long ways down. 

Leaving the doors ajar, I turned to the bathroom. I searched the cabinets for a weapon but found nothing more toxic than hemorrhoid cream and hot rollers.

I pulled my arms out of Maya's jacket, hot and suffocating in my escape, and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a tinny, metallic sound.

I grabbed it and rifled through the pockets. The pairing knife I'd picked up earlier. I said a silent thank you to the gods of thorough snooping.

The bedroom door opened. Veronica wheezed in the doorway, a shrill whistling sound. She clearly wasn’t used to running after people.

I slipped behind the bathroom door, knife clutched in hand. The closet doors opened, hangers rattled. She went onto the balcony then hesitated outside the bathroom before the door squeaked open another inch.

I flattened myself against the wall, feeling the knife shake in my hand. I glanced through the space between the hinges, terrified I'd see her beady eyes staring back.

I saw Veronica’s arm extend, her hand peek around the doorframe, gun pointed ahead of her. One more step and she'd be inside, staring me down. 

I reacted on instinct, brought up the knife and slashed the back of her hand.

Blood oozed from the cut. Drops splattered on the floor, and the gun fell. A half-yell-half-groan came from deep within her chest, and she quickly drew her arm back.

I kicked the gun before she could reach down for it, then pushed on the door, hoping to knock her out of the way and give myself a moment to grab the better weapon.

She must’ve regained her footing fast, though, because she pushed back. For an older woman, she was stronger than I thought.

The door slammed me into the wall. The knife fell from my hand and clanked to the floor.

I wiggled onto my hands and knees, aiming for the gun. But before I could grab it, Veronica rammed into me. I skidded across the travertine tile and slammed into a claw foot tub.

She moved fast, too fast, and slipped, grabbing onto the edge of the sink. That calm, reassured presence she'd had in the basement was gone. Her pupils were dilated, her complexion splotchy. She bent toward the gun.

I sprang up and ran to it.

We both arrived at the same time, but her fingers wrapped around the pearl-covered handle first.

No
, I screamed in my head.

I wouldn’t say my life passed before my eyes as I watched her raise the gun to meet me. No images of Mom, Derek, my girls or even Danny. Instead, I thought of Donna. Her lifeless expression. The way Veronica had used her then cast her aside when she was no longer needed.

This lunatic didn’t care that Donna had a life, was grieving for a man she loved. How could she when she thought so little of her own husband’s life? Yes, he cheated. So have plenty of other men. You get divorced, take the bastard for everything he owns. You didn’t elaborately plan his murder.

And there was no way I was going to let her get away with that.

Without thinking, I reacted. I grabbed Veronica’s wrist with both my hands, pushing the gun away from me. She struggled back, the both of us pulling and pushing, trying to get the other to let go. Our arms ended above our heads, the gun pointed at the ceiling. Unfortunately she was only an inch shorter than me, so neither of us had the upper hand.

But I had one additional weapon she did not.

I lifted my one still-shoed foot and slammed the heel onto her slipper.

She screamed, her fingers slipping.

I yanked the gun free and stepped back. My chest heaved with uneven breaths as I pointed the barrel at her.

But like a frickin’ bull, she charged toward me.

I raised the gun, pretended she was a paper target, and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out. Deafening.

Veronica’s eyes widened. She clutched her lower abdomen as bright red blood seeped through her fingers.

My stomach retched, as I blinked in disbelief that almost matched hers. I hadn't aimed to kill. I hadn't aimed at all, just fired out of pure instinct and self preservation.

She staggered, the back of her knees hitting the edge of the tub. Her feet slipped out from beneath her, and she fell backward, landing in the tub.

The irony of how the end of her reign of terror resembled Donna’s demise didn’t escape me.

I rubbed my face with my free hand, stunned, somehow unable to move. I'm not sure how long I stood like that, in a state of semi-shock. I vaguely registered sirens in the distance, the front door opening, and feet pounding up the stairs.

"Jamie?" I heard as the footsteps approached the doorway.

I turned and found Aiden standing there, two uniformed cops beside him, guns drawn. But Aiden's features were soft, concerned, eyes roving my person for wounds.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out. "But, this time I really did shoot someone, Aiden."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

_____

Two days later, I stood outside the Bond Agency, staring at the letters embossed on the door. I traced them with my finger, not ready to go inside and face what waited for me.

After an ambulance had taken Veronica away (who, incidentally was not dead, but definitely severely wounded), and the police had questioned me, I was taken to the hospital, where I spent the night due to my concussion. The next day I was released, and after a quick message to all that I was alive and fine, I turned off my phone, took a bubble bath until the bubbles were gone and water was cold, and snuggled in my bed. Where I'd stayed for the next twenty-four hours.

Now, however, it was back to work, back to making this business operate in the black, and back to restoring what little reputation we might have left.

I took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

"Surprise!"

Caleigh, Maya, Sam, Levine, and, most surprisingly of all, Danny raised cups of Starbucks coffee and cheered.

I blinked, taking in the scene. The lobby was decorated in red and white streamers and matching balloons, imprinted with the word "Congratulations". A round bakery cake with white frosting, yellow and green flowers, and a couple of candles sat beside a stack of paper plates on Maya's desk. Hung on the far wall, facing the front door, was a handmade sign. Written with a black Sharpie, it read: Congrats Super Boss.

Four smiling faces stared back at me, expecting a reaction. One face stared back at me with a sheepish, downcast look as if he'd been dragged here against his will. I chose to ignore Danny, and focused on my girls instead.

"Wow, this is... wow," I repeated myself, closing the door behind me.

Maya handed me a grande, nonfat Caramel Macchiato. "Here you go, boss. Your usual. We thought about buying champagne but figured you’d enjoy this more."

She knew me so well.

"To the bravest ex-model-turned-private investigator ever," Sam said.

Caleigh batted her lashes, as she added, "And the sexiest ex-jailbird."

"Who knows how to maim and not kill." Sam winked.

I chuckled. Long. Hard. Man, it felt great.

Caleigh lit the candles on the cake and said, "Make a wish."

"Aren’t wishes only for birthdays?"

"Who cares. You earned one. Or a hundred," Caleigh replied.

I walked to the table and closed my eyes. I thought of my amazing girls and this awesome job, and blew out the candles. I enjoyed modeling. Nothing could beat traveling and shooting at exotic locations, and the money wasn’t shabby. But there was a different, deeper thrill when I handed over incriminating evidence to a hurt, broken spouse. My contribution to helping the community.

Everyone clapped, and Sam lifted a knife and began slicing the decadent looking confection.

The phone rang, and Maya rushed to it.

Sam slapped a slice of cake on a plate and handed it to me. "Just so you know, the last ten minutes have been the longest the phone hasn’t rung all morning," she informed me.

"Word is out that Bond Agency is the best." Caleigh swiped a finger across her frosting then licked it off.

"Wait-" I said, holding up a hand. "What do mean they know it's the best?"

Caleigh blinked at me. "Like, they know you caught Judge Waterston's
real
killer."

"And that no one gets away with any funny business where Jamie Bond is concerned," Sam said, grinning from ear to ear.

"And," Maya, added, hanging up the phone, "every suspicious wife in town now wants you on
her
side."

"And some husbands," Sam added.  "Including Mr. Peters, who was so grateful to find out the truth about his wife that his lawyer dropped off a big fat check yesterday afternoon."

I couldn't help it. I grinned too.

"So, I guess we're in the black," I said, shooting Levine a victorious look.

"Let's wait and see what this month's numbers look like," he hedged. Very lawyerly of him. But, I could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, too. No matter what this month's numbers said, my three girls were staying.

"So, how do things look for the nefarious Mrs. Waterston?" Levine asked, changing the subject.

"She's recovering well," I said, relaying the info the police had given me that morning on the phone as I dug into my cake. "In the prison hospital, of course. The police found the sex video between Alexa and the judge, as well as a baggie of Shooting Stars with the wife’s prints all over them. There was a twenty thousand dollar withdrawal from her account a week before Waterston’s death. And the same amount showed up in Donna’s account the day after he died. It sounds like they have a pretty strong case."

"I can’t believe the lengths some people go to," Caleigh said.

"The betrayal, the dishonesty," Sam added.

I stole a glance at Danny. He was studiously avoiding my gaze, hanging near the back of the room.

The phone rang again, and Maya jumped toward it, a radiant smile on her face. "I hope you're prepared for a busy week, boss."

"I can think of nothing I'd love more." And I totally meant that.

The girls took that as their cue to take coffees and cake to their desks and get to work. Levine mumbled a good-bye and a promise to be back in a couple of weeks to take a look at our accounts receivables. And Danny quietly set his cake down and headed for the door.