Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) (34 page)

Staring out the window, Harley caught a glimpse of movement in the side mirror on the car. She blinked. There was someone behind Darcy’s car. Surely she wasn’t imagining things. It had looked like a man hiding back there . . . could it be? But if the cops had arrived, they’d show up with sirens wailing and flashing lights. And they’d send more than one guy.

While she was trying to decide if help had arrived or she was in even bigger trouble, Bernie got out of the car. He bent down to say, “I’m going to move that car out of my way, but I’m watching you, so if you even look like you want to get out and run, I’ll shoot you. Understand, Blondie?”

“Perfectly. I’m fine right here.”

As soon as he straightened up, she fumbled with the waist of her jeans and pulled out the hair spray and nail file. She tucked them both between her legs and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

When a loud yell erupted behind her she looked in the side mirror to see Bernie go flying backward. Swiveling her head, she saw out the back window another man leap on top of him, and for a moment she didn’t recognize him. Not until she heard a loud voice cursing in Spanish did she realize who it had to be—José. And he’d provided her with the perfect chance to get the hell out of there.

Grabbing her weapons just in case, she managed to get the car door open and took off for the road. If Bernie came after her, she might stand a chance if she got out into traffic where people could see her, she reasoned, and hoped that José kept him busy long enough for her to make it.

Behind her, gunshots rang out, followed by more yelling. She didn’t want to think about what might be happening to José, and kept running. As soon as she could get to a phone, she’d call the cops. More gunfire, and this time, she felt something hot whiz past her head. She dove to the ground, heart pounding so loud she couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing to her head. Now she really had to go to the bathroom, and wished she’d thought of that earlier.

She couldn’t lie there forever, and after a few seconds passed, she pushed to her feet. The nail file was lost in the grass somewhere, so she grabbed the hair spray and took off again. She ran clumsily with her hands still tied in front of her, fear pressing down and her heart in her throat. The line of trees along the property line lay just ahead of her, if she could only make it past them. A few more yards and she’d be on the road out of sight.

Just as she reached the trees an arm snaked out to grab her. She screamed and pressed the nozzle on the hair spray, twisting toward her attacker and aiming upward for eyes and face. It didn’t do much to get her free, but she did recognize the low, irritated voice.

“Ow! Dammit, Harley!”

She almost collapsed with relief. “Morgan? Where the hell have you been!”

Wiping at his eyes and blinking, he muttered, “Glad to see you too, babe. What’d you hit me with?”

“Hair spray. Listen, the guy who killed Harry is here and he’s fighting with José. We need to help him.”

“
We
, hell. Stay here.”

“No, don’t go out there, you’ll get shot!” She grabbed him when he pushed her behind the trees and started around her. The look he gave her should have turned her to stone. The timbre of his voice was inflexible.

“Stay
down
. My car’s over there. Get in it and stay there. Don’t do anything else stupid. Backup’s on the way.”

“Mike, wait until they get here.” He wasn’t listening. He’d go out there and get himself killed, and it’d be her fault. Her throat knotted and she couldn’t say anything, could only watch while he unclipped something on his boot. Then she noticed the gun in his hand, heavy, lethal.

He gave her an impatient glance. “Dammit
, go
, Harley. I need to get in position while they’re busy fighting.”

This was a side of him she hadn’t seen. He looked almost feral, a glitter in his eyes that bordered on ferocious. His expression had gone sharp, intent. Like a wolf. He wore a Kevlar vest over his black tee shirt, an empty holster strapped to his thigh, the butt of a small pistol sticking out from his boot top, and with the pistol in his hand, he looked like he could handle almost anything, including a rampaging rhino. She swallowed her panic.

“Sure. I’m going,” she said, then crouched down behind a tree to watch as he ran in a cautious, bent-over lope police used when confronting an armed criminal. He took cover behind a bush for a second, then ran toward the opposite side of Darcy’s car from where Bernie and José were still fighting for the gun. José was obviously a better match for Bernie than she’d been, but she had no idea which one of them had the pistol.

Morgan briefly positioned himself behind the car, watching them struggle. Harley knew she was supposed to go to his car, but she couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck about to happen, all her muscles tensed and air locked in her lungs, paralyzed with some kind of dread fascination.

So far, neither José nor Bernie had noticed him, they were each so intent on getting the gun from the other. Harley couldn’t tell who had it, just saw a blur of fists and feet. Air locked in her lungs until she got lightheaded. Damn, there was nothing she could do. She’d only be a distraction if she tried.

Then Morgan stood up and shouted, “Police! Put down the weapon!”

José shouted something in Spanish and Morgan shouted back. Bernie grabbed for the gun in José’s hand and wrenched it free, then whirled around.

“Drop the weapon!” Mike shouted, his arm braced atop the trunk of Aunt Darcy’s car and his revolver steady. For a moment, there was no sound, just the face-off between the two men.

Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Bernie’s pistol spat orange flame, Morgan fired back, and Harley watched in horror.

“Noooo!”
The scream erupted from her throat despite her intention to keep silent. Harley leaped to her feet. She didn’t know what she meant to do, only that she had to help Morgan, who had hit the ground and rolled.

Then she saw him take aim again from his prone position, heard the sharp report of his pistol, and Bernie jerked backward as if hit with a two by four. He flopped around for a moment like a fish, then lay still. José stood up and looked down at him, then over at Morgan.

“He’s still breathing.”

“Hands in the air,” Morgan ordered, slowly getting up with his pistol still aimed and ready. “Now lock your hands behind your neck and get down on your knees.”

José did as he was told, and Mike approached cautiously. He leaned over and took the gun from Bernie’s hand and stuck it in his waistband. Then he looked toward Harley where she’d stopped halfway up the rutted driveway. His mouth twitched.

“You never listen to me. Go to my car and call for an ambulance.”

When she got back, Bernie was sitting up with his hands cuffed behind him and José sat close by, cuffed as well and glaring at him. She looked from them to Morgan.

“So what’s up?”

“Flesh wound. He’ll be fine. Wanna tell me what’s going on here, Harley?”

“I’d love to, but I have no idea. Bernie said he’s Anna and Frieda’s brother, but Anna said he’s not. None of them get along very well, it seems, as he tried to kill Frieda after calling her a few unkind names. José is Julio’s brother and I have no idea why he’s here or how he found us, but I’m ever so grateful.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Anna and Frieda left with a box that has invoices or a ledger full of names. Or maybe bank account numbers. Anyway, it’s important and Bernie here is willing to kill to get it. So how did you know where I was?”

Mike grinned. “You called me. When we got cut off, I called Bobby. He was at your aunt’s house by that time, and told me where you and your friend here must have gone.”

“
I
called you?”

“Yep. I heard something about Bernie, guns, and your cousins, then him tell you to shut up, and figured you hadn’t stayed where you’d promised to stay.”

“Yes, I did. It wasn’t my idea to leave. Talk to Bernie about that.” A little indignant, she added, “And I was trying to call nine-one-one anyway, not you.”

“See? Even by accident you know who to call.”

About that time sirens wailed an approach, and several police cruisers screamed into the rutted driveway with an ambulance close behind. It was over.

Abruptly, Harley plopped down on the ground and put her face in her palms. She started shaking and couldn’t seem to stop, even when Morgan handed over the prisoners to be read their rights and put into the car and the ambulance, and then came to kneel down beside her.

“Hey,” he said gently, “it’s okay. You did good.”

She peeked at him between her fingers, and her voice came out all quivery. “I know.”

Morgan laughed and said, “That’s what I like most about you—your modesty.”

“And all this time I’ve been thinking it was just my body.”

He leaned closer to rest his forehead against hers. “I’ll be glad to prove my appreciation of that part of your assets later.”

Harley sighed. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

“As long as you hold me tight, babe.”

Bobby arrived before the ambulance left,
and he ignored Harley for a few minutes before he walked over to where she sat on the trailer steps in the shade. “I’m not going to say what’s first on my mind. You can thank me later. Now, just tell me what happened, from when you arrived at your aunt’s to the present.”

“It’s nice to see you again, too, Bobby, and yes, I know you’re glad to see me alive and relatively unharmed.”

“Right, good to see you, glad you’re okay, now tell me what happened. While it’s still fresh in your mind. Don’t leave anything out.”

When Harley got to the part where Bernie had been attacked by the goose, Bobby began to laugh. He didn’t stop even when she told him to shut up or she wasn’t going to say another word, and after a moment, he just shook his head.

“Only you, Harley. You’re a trouble magnet, but it’s always something screwy. No jury will ever believe this.”

“Then just call Gladys in as a witness. But you better have her in a net first.”

Bobby sat down on the step beside her and looked at her. “You know, I should charge you with something. Obstruction or whatever would get you off the streets. You’ve become a menace to society.”

“Fine talk from a man who used to think it was funny to put salt in his mother’s sugar bowl, and a garter snake in his aunt’s underwear drawer.”

“I was ten, and my mother should never have told you all those stories.”

“She was just trying to warn me, and anyway, you’re still a legend in our neighborhood.”

“One more reason I moved as soon as I could. None of which has any bearing on the fact that I’m really concerned about you lately. First, all that business with Yogi and the dog and all those jewelry thieves. Now you’ve gotten mixed up in two more murders and almost been killed yourself. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation at all?”

“Of course I do. I was only trying to help Aunt Darcy. She’s family, you know.”

“Uh hunh. Not to mention she offered you money.”

“Well, that, too.”

“How much would it take to make you stop?”

“Too late. It’s all over now. Isn’t it?”

Bobby just looked at her for a moment. “Maybe this one is, but unless you’re moving out of town, there’s always tomorrow.”

“How Scarlett O’Hara of you. So when do I find out all the details?”

“You know I can’t discuss an ongoing case.” Bobby paused, looked at her, and then dragged a hand over his jaw with a rasping sound. It looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. “Guess I could think out loud, though, since we’re old friends and all. As long as I get a promise you’ll remember this is only conjecture. Nothing’s proven until the DA makes a case.”

Harley put out her right hand, little finger curled. “Pinky promise.”

Grinning, Bobby linked his finger through hers and they solemnly shook on it. “Okay,” he said, “just keep this to yourself.”

“Not even Cami? Never mind, just tell me why Bernie killed Harry, and probably Julio.”