BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (23 page)

Because it was.

***

I was maybe half way to New York City when I let myself think about what I was really planning. Sure, I could burn down half of the city in an effort to make her pay, but in the end, it was a life for a life. Or rather, her one worthless life for the five excellent lives she had taken. I stopped worrying about innocent bystanders and toxic smoke and focused on how I would lure Ledroit to me.

It seemed pretty easy, go to Little Italy, ask around for Margaret LeDonne, tell everyone where I was staying and wait for her to come kill me. The tricky part would be killing her first.

I was a little frightened of who I had become. How seemingly easy it was to go from fairly decent to absolutely amoral. The horrible way my animals had died haunted me, I saw nothing redeeming in Ledroit to make me feel guilty about planning to kill her, but I was missing some failsafe, something that would bring me back from the edge, back to the place where killing people was unacceptable.

I checked into a two-star hotel that was clean, but basic. The people behind the desk didn’t seem to pay too much attention to who was coming and going, and I thought that was probably good. I had Tom’s Smith and Wesson with me, a stun-gun and pepper spray.

I slept hard and long that night. I let myself sleep in and spent the morning relaxing. I didn’t know how long it would take to lure Ledroit, and I wouldn’t be able to do much sleeping until I reeled her in.

After a lunch of clam chowder and grilled-chicken panini, I started my stroll. I asked about Margaret LeDonne everywhere, paying special attention to buildings I knew she owned. I told complete strangers I had a bone to pick and where she could find me. I ate spaghetti in the restaurant where she had talked to Victor Hugo Puccini. I was as visible as I knew how to be, talking to strangers and chatting up the waiter.

The walk back to the hotel was leisurely. I looked in windows; I strolled through shops and fingered silk scarves. I tried on a beautiful red dress that made me look exotic. And when I walked through the lobby I said hello to everyone I saw, making the most of what might be my last free moments on Earth. I had no illusions that I would get away with murder. Nor did I think I should.

I went to bed with the handgun, pepper spray and stun-gun under my pillow. It wasn’t at all comfortable, which was fine with me, because I needed to be alert.

My grandma woke me. Not literally, she was dead after all, but in my dream she was warning me of danger. I heard the door click shut and was fully awake.

“Grandma?” I said aloud.

“Grandma?” Ledroit snorted. “You think I’m your dead Grandma? How sweet.” It was Ledroit’s voice, but I couldn’t make our where she was in the room.

“Ledroit. Good. I’ve been looking for you.” I had my arsenal at my fingertips.

“Very brave of you. And foolish. You were lucky to live through the fire. And yet here you are, lamb come to slaughter. “

I switched on the bedside light. Ledroit sat in a chair across from the bed, the black barrel of her gun pointed at me. I sat up and slipped my feet into my shoes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. If you stand up I’ll shoot you.”

“Fair enough. Do you have any objection to me tying my shoes?”

“You want to die with your shoes on? Be my guest.”

I bent and tied.

“You should have told me you found Victor. I would have paid you handsomely.” She was amused, like I was some silly child.

“So you could kill him? I don’t think so.” I pulled the gun into my lap, resting it with the barrel pointing at her chest.

Ledroit smiled. “You are not such a child then. But you will not kill me.”

“I will.” I willed myself to pull the trigger; it was her or me. Why was neither of us shooting?

“Tell me something,” she said. “Why would you put yourself at risk for a complete stranger?”

“He isn’t a complete stranger. His sister is a member of our community. Why would I sell out a member of our community?”

“I thought perhaps you were defying me on purpose. This is just sentimentality, you understand nothing.”

“I understand that you killed my family—my dogs—and burned down our family home. For no reason other than you could.”

“Your dogs were your family? No wonder you are so pathetic. You need family to make you strong. Not a bunch of pack animals fawning all around you. You are like a little girl.”

“And you are a spoiled brat having a temper tantrum.” Fury had started to burn through me again. My dogs were not pathetic. Their lives meant something. “If something bothers you, you kill someone. And you call
me
a child.”

“Enough…” she started.

But I didn’t hear anything else. My ears were ringing with fury; I launched myself off the bed, gun in hand. Her gun discharged like a sneeze, it had a silencer on it, but I didn’t feel a bullet hit me. I tackled her, sending her backwards and her gun went flying. She fisted me in the leg with something sharp and pain was quick and hot. I smacked her wrist with the gun and she dropped the blade. We rolled off the overturned chair and she grabbed at the gun in my hand, trying to wrest it from me. A telephone cord was plugged into a jack behind her head. I grabbed it and yanked. The heavy seventies phone came flying off the desk and smashed into us. The phone landed on her face, the receiver clubbed me in the ear. I pushed myself up, dropped my knees onto her chest, pulled back the slide to slide a bullet into the chamber and pressed the barrel of the Smith and Wesson into the middle of her forehead.

Ledroits eyes were locked on mine, daring me to kill her. She didn’t speak but the sneer on her face told me that she didn’t believe I’d do it. I didn’t see anything in her eyes to stop me. Not an ounce of remorse or fear. Not a shred of humanity. I took a breath.

The door to the room clicked open. I didn’t blink. My eyes were on Ledroit, but I could see the outline of the guy in the doorway with my peripheral vision.

“Hambecker?” I didn’t move a muscle. I tightened my finger and slid it down the trigger.

He walked over and put his hand down. “Give me the gun, Bree.”

I shook my head. “Can’t.”

“Give me the gun. If you walk away now, everything will be fine.”

“What do you mean, it will be fine? It will never be fine; she burned my grandma’s house. She killed my dogs. I will never, ever be fine again.” I looked into Ledroit’s flat eyes, two-handed the pistol, and straightened by elbows the way my dad taught me.

“Easy.” His voice was calm and low. “I know it’s hard to see now but you will get back to normal.”

“How? How can I go from wanting revenge to being normal? I want to kill her Hammie, I want her to suffer.” I relaxed my elbows and thought I saw a flicker of relief in her eyes.

“I know. I want her to suffer too, just not in quite the same way as you do. But you can’t do it, Bree. If you do this, you are going to lose more than you already have.” His hand landed gently on my shoulder.

“What more is there to lose, Hambecker? What else is there?” I felt a flood of emotion threaten to overwhelm me and pushed it back.

“You could lose me.” His voice was in my ear now. His hand sliding down my arm.

“If I kill her you’ll leave me?” I stiffened my arms.

“No. I won’t leave you.” His hand had stopped below my elbow; I saw surprise in Ledroit’s eyes.

“Then what? How can I lose you if you won’t leave me?” I slipped my finger off the trigger.

“Because you can’t be both
Bree MacGowan: murderous bitch intent on ruining her life for the sake of revenge
, and
Trouble MacGowan: the girl who fell madly in love with Richard Hambecker
.” They were both absolutely still.

“I’m not in love.” I was confused.

“I know, but you would be.” His voice was barely audible.

“I don’t understand.” He had my attention now.

“You would be in love with me if you could let go of the hatred.” His breath touched my cheek.

“I can’t. She killed my sweet Ranger. How can I let that go? I won’t betray them.” My finger tightened. My chest constricted making it hard to breathe.

Chapter Fifteen

“Listen to me.” Hambecker said, his voice low and tight. “You wouldn’t be betraying them. Those animals lived for your happiness. They wouldn’t want you to die a lonely, bitter old woman so that they could be avenged. Choose me. That would honor them. Be happy. Choose me, Bree.”

I looked away from Ledroit. There were tears in Hambecker’s eyes, so close to mine and I could see the truth in them. There under the sheen of water and years of holding back was the truth. It was the same love I’d seen in Beagle Annie’s eyes before she died. The same love I got from my brothers and parents. And I was going to lose it. Not just Hambecker’s, I would lose it all.

I pulled the gun back, away from Ledroit’s head and took my knees off her chest. There was a flurry of movement, and the room was full of men dressed in full SWAT gear. They had Ledroit up and out of the room so fast it was like she was never there. Even the gun she brought with her was bagged and gone.

I looked up at Hambecker. Calm and cool Richard Hambecker. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck. There was no color in his face and his hands shook as he emptied the rounds from the gun.

The horrible calm in me broke. The pain and regret. The loss and fear flooded back into me, and out in an uncontrollable wail. I threw myself at Hambecker, pounding on his chest and sobbing. He caught and held me. Wrapping his arms around me tight, holding me together when the pain would have torn me apart. I stopped hitting and clung to him with every ounce of strength I had. I cried until I passed out from exhaustion, there, in his arms.

I opened my eyes to Tom and Steve standing in the doorway. Tom was holding a first aid kit. He tossed it kit to Hambecker. “You can do the honors, I’m not asking her to take her pants off.”

A cop dressed in black stuck his head in the door behind Tom. “We’re taking out the trash. You okay in here?”

“Fine,” Hambecker said. “Lock the door on the way out would you, Tom?”

The door clicked shut and Hammie turned to me. “Strip,” He said.

“I will not. I will remove my jeans so you can put a Band-Aid on my booboo, but I’m not stripping.” I turned my back to undo my pants.

“Just get on with it.” I could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

I shucked my pants and he let out a low whistle. “That’s nasty. We’re going to the ER.” He secured a dressing over the wound and I put my pants back on.

“You’re looking a little green. Blood make you nauseous?” he asked.

“No. It just decided to hurt again.”
Like a son of a bitch.
I breathed through my nose and focused on neither throwing up or passing out.

“Shit.” Hambecker picked me up and carried me out of the room.

“I can walk,” I said as he took the stairwell down to the first floor.

“No. You can’t. I’m not having you pass out and bash your head on the sidewalk.”

“It’s Hammer time.” I grinned. “I was saved by the Hammer.”

“Very funny. Hold on for a sec.” We’d come out into the underground parking and I locked my arms around his neck while he fished keys from his pocket and beeped the SUV open.

“I’m getting banged by the Hammer.” I giggled uncontrollably into his shoulder.

“Not tonight, you aren’t.” He set me gently in the passenger seat and closed the door.

“Sledgehammer,” I sang.

“You been listening to your mother’s albums?” He slid into the driver’s seat.

“The oldies station. Helps me sleep in strange places. Do you want to be my sledgehammer, Hammie?” I was focusing all my energy on driving him crazy, because if I didn’t the pain was going to make me cry.

He sighed. “Do I have to answer that?”

“No ‘cause I know you want to be my sledgehammer, don’t you?”
Oh my God, my leg feels like it’s on fire.

“Crap, if this is what you’re like now, what’s going to happen when they give you pain pills?” The tone of his voice indicated he was doing mental eye-rolls.

“Don’t worry. I’ll just pass out.”

True to my word, that’s exactly what I did. I gritted my teeth while the doc numbed the four-inch laceration in my leg, which didn’t, by the way, make the throbbing go away. When they finally allowed me the narcotics I was happy to let the drugs have their way with me. But not before signing the release papers.

***

I was back in Hambecker’s arms when I woke. We were lying on the bed, his arms wrapped tight around me. I sighed and snuggled into him. Safe. Sane. I felt the ache inside me. It would be with me for a long time. That was fine, I’d be okay. People are built to live with loss.

Hammie stirred. “You were wrong.”

“What was I wrong about this time?” I pushed my face into his chest.

“You do love me.” His arms tightened around me.

“I know. And someday you’ll learn to love me too.” I snuggled closer.

“Trouble?” Hambecker’s voice was low.

“Hmm?” I was barely awake now.

“I won’t.”

My eyes opened wide. “Why not?”

“Because I already do.” He smiled wide.

I smiled back. “You do what?” I was fishing.

“Love you. I love you.” He brushed his lips lightly over mine.

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.” A bubble of joy expanded in my chest filling me with warmth.

He pulled me close and I dozed there, safe.

Later, when we’d showered, we joined Tom and Steve in the coffee shop across the street. We sat squashed in a large booth. There should have been loads of room for four people, but when three of the four have shoulders like bulldogs… well, let’s just say I was having an interesting time getting my fork to my mouth.

“How did you guys find me?” I asked when my order of french fries hit the table. “I was being so sneaky.”

“I hate to tell you this,” said Tom, “but you’re pretty damn transparent.”

“Remember the GPS you attached to my car?” Hambecker asked. “I’ve had one in your truck since I came to town.”