No Chance in Hell (9 page)

A flash of clarity and resolution came to him. Minutes later, he was dressed in black, his pistol was in the pocket of his windbreaker, and he was walking to his car.

****

“It’s Marcus,” he called out and knocked at the same time. He’d been gone only a couple of hours, but his nerves were fried. Diablo sensed his stress, the scruff on the back of his neck rising as if the dog watched for imaginary enemies.
 

Wayne opened the door and stepped back. “You and the dog look like shit. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I was in a hurry to get back.” Marcus caught Chris’s gaze and held it. His breathing leveled off when she smiled. “Everything quiet?”

“Yeah. Chris doesn’t even have noisy neighbors.”

“We had sandwiches. I left everything out for you.” She moved to the kitchen. “I’m packed and ready, but Wayne’s right. You and Diablo look like you could use a meal. We have time for you to eat.”

“Better listen to the lady.” Wayne walked to the door. “If you need me or Tomas to stand watch, just give us a call.”

“Will do,” Marcus said.

“Thank you for babysitting me,” Chris called out.

“Anytime.”

Marcus locked up and joined her at the kitchen counter. Diablo growled at the door. “I’m sorry, big fellow. It’s a good thing you reminded me.” He clipped the leash to the dog’s collar. “If you’ll make me a sandwich, I’ll take this guy out. We won’t go far, but lock the—”

“Door.” She finished his sentence with a grin, joining him to do as asked.

“Right.”
 

The crack of gunfire split the night. Marcus dropped the leash. Crouching low, he pulled his Glock and sprinted to Wayne’s unmarked car. He jerked open the driver’s side door to find Wayne slumped to the right. Blood had already saturated the back of his shirt. A bullet had hit him in the shoulder, behind his left arm.

“I called 911,” Chris called out.
 

“Looks like you took one in the left shoulder blade.” Marcus tried not to sound panicked. That was the last thing Wayne needed right now. “I can’t tell more than that.” He rested his weapon on the top of the car so it would be easy to reach and then jerked off his shirt. “This is gonna hurt.” He pressed hard against the wound to slow the flow of blood.
 

“I was adjusting the rearview mirror. The motherfucker probably aimed for my head.” Wayne moaned as Marcus applied pressure.

He placed two fingers on the detective’s neck and checked his pulse. An erratic heartbeat could have meant lots of things, but Wayne’s heart was pumping too fast. “Breathe for me, buddy. The ambulance is on the way.”

“I’m trying.” Wayne turned his head. The tight lines around his mouth indicated he was in great pain. “Did you see anything?” Wayne asked, even as his body folded sideways onto the seat.

Marcus put one foot inside the car, leaning in to keep pressure on the wound. “No. I was inside when Chris and I heard the gunshot.”

“Dark car, maybe black or navy, pulled up next to me. I didn’t see the shooter. Is Chris okay?”

“She’s fine. Let’s worry about you.”

An ambulance, a fire truck, and two patrol cars sped into the complex. Marcus stepped into the open and waved his hand. Before he could react, four cops were out of their cars with guns drawn and pointed directly at him.

“Down on the ground,” one shouted.

“Worry about the man in the car. He’s a cop and has been shot,” Marcus said as he dropped facedown. He knew the scene looked bad to a stranger. He was naked from the waist up and had blood all over his hands.

“Dude’s right, the wounded guy is a Dallas cop,” a voice from behind called out. “Says the man on the ground is with him.”

A boot toe poked him in the ribs.

“Get up slowly and dig out some identification.”

He did as instructed. He wiped his fingers on his jeans and carefully removed his wallet. He handed over his private investigator’s license, driver’s license, and gun permit.

“My pistol is on the top of his car.”

The officer studied the license and checked the picture. Marcus was edging toward the end of his patience.

“Hey,” an EMT called out. “This man wants to see his friend.”

 
Marcus turned to go check on Wayne.
 

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” the cop said.

“I’m just checking on my friend.” He turned his back and walked to the stretcher, where they’d strapped down Wayne.
 

His face was ghastly pale, his red hair disheveled and his mouth slack. Marcus had seen that expression in Afghanistan. He clasped Wayne’s hand as one of the paramedics taped down the needle and started an IV drip. The guy glanced up and lifted one shoulder. Was that his silent way of saying the situation wasn’t good?

“I’ll be fine,” Wayne managed to whisper.

“Load up.” The paramedic pushed the stretcher toward the ambulance. He paused by the open doors and lifted his gaze. “We’re taking him to Dallas General.” The grim expression spoke volumes. Marcus helped lift the gurney.

Wayne’s eyelids fluttered closed. The ambulance door slammed shut, but not before Marcus heard words that froze him in place.
 

“He’s coding.” The paramedic’s voice faded as the ambulance sped off.
 

Marcus called Tomas and broke the news.

Again, Marcus had left Chris and something had gone wrong. He was supposed to be protecting Chris. It should have been him the paramedics were fighting to keep alive.
 

The cop returned Marcus’s driver’s license and gun permit. “You see the shooter?”

“No. I heard the shot and then came outside.”

“Too bad.”

“Detective Kerns said a dark car pulled up, and somebody inside shot him. Bastard never said a word, just sped off. Son of a bitch was gone before I got over here.”

“Was that his family you called?”

“His partner.” Marcus sensed Chris’s presence. He knew before looking over his shoulder that she and Diablo had come outside. She stood at the edge of the walk, holding a towel in one hand and the leash in the other.
 

He nodded, holding out his hand to her. Chris and Diablo rushed to his side. The overhead lights cast a shadow across her face. Tension reflected in her eyes. She used the wet end of the towel to wash his hands, the other to dry them. The weight on his shoulders lifted a little. A fierce need to protect her burned through his soul.

“Thanks,” he said, unable to find the words to express how her generosity touched him.
 

She didn’t speak. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his chest. Something tight and uncomfortable unraveled inside him. Giving or receiving comfort had been absent in his life for a long time. Chris had regenerated that need in him.

“How’s Wayne?” She stepped back and cleared her throat. Her gaze traveled across the crime scene. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she held back, proving her inner strength to him once again.
 

“I don’t know.” He dropped down and spoke to Diablo, calming him with words. The bloody towel was still in her hand.

“And you are?” the young cop asked Chris.

“Chris Holland.” Her shoulders straightened at the cop’s tone of voice. “And you are?”

Damn, Marcus liked her spirit. This was a woman who could hold her own.
 

“Billy Joe Parson, ma’am. Did you witness what happened?”

“No. I was inside with Marcus.”

“If you’re finished with my Glock, I’d like it back.” Even though Wayne had vouched for him, one of the cops held up Marcus’s pistol and sniffed.

“It hasn’t been fired,” the cop said. “I’ll run the serial number. If it comes back registered to you, I’ll give it back.”

Hell, the shooter could be halfway to Fort Worth by now. Marcus wanted to ask if they had someone canvassing the area. But he was smart enough to know it wouldn’t get him anywhere to piss these guys off.
 

“We’ve told you everything we know. We need to get to the hospital.”

“The gun’s his.” The cop handed the Glock to Marcus. “You can go.”

“Thanks. If you need anything else, call that number on my card.” He caught Chris by the elbow. “Let’s get your suitcase. We’ll have to take Diablo by my house. I can’t take him inside, and I don’t ever leave him in the car.”

“I’m ready.” She fell in step with him. Her soft, small hand gripped his arm. “You couldn’t have prevented this.”

“Yeah?” Damn, she’d read his mind. “And if I hadn’t brought Tomas and Wayne in on the case, Wayne wouldn’t be on his way to surgery.”

Chris came to a fast stop. Her gaze searched his face. “You can’t believe you’re responsible for Wayne being shot,” she exclaimed, her voice jumping an octave higher. “There’s more than enough blame to share. If I hadn’t involved Lost and Found, Wayne wouldn’t have been in my home. If I’d done more to help Chelsea—”

Marcus couldn’t let Chris continue. “You’re carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders. I’m betting you loved your sister and that more than once you tried to help her kick her addiction. Am I right?” He guided her to the car and held the door for her.

“I tried.” Chris buckled her seat belt while Marcus loaded Diablo.

“Go on,” he said, as he slid behind the steering wheel.

“I tried the tough-love approach that her counselor suggested. It might have worked on some people, but it drove us further apart. That distance between us might have put her in the killer’s path and brought us to today. Wayne has to make it. He has to.”
 

“I hope so, too.” Marcus feared the worst, but saw no reason to dash her hopes just yet. “At some point, you have to accept you can’t change the past. The only thing you really control is what you do next.” They drove in silence as his own words haunted him. How easy it was to give advice. Yet, he clung to his past, hoping that someday the guilt would fade.

The EMT’s words kept circling through his mind.
He’s coding.
 

Marcus pressed the gas pedal harder.
 

Chapter 7

Marcus had been quiet since driving away from the crime scene. No doubt, his mind was on Wayne. Chris said a quick prayer that he’d pull through.
 

Diablo’s front feet came over the back of the seat. One paw came to rest on her shoulder. Chris wondered if she should try to get Marcus to talk. Anything to keep him from blaming himself.
 

“Is it okay to let Diablo come up here?”

“Sure.” Marcus, still shirtless, patted the area between them, and the dog crawled over. Marcus’s muscles flexed as he stroked the dog’s fur. His body was trim and perfectly defined.
 

“I think he’s a ladies’ man.” She scratched behind Diablo’s ear, wondering if she was doing the right thing to pull Marcus out of his shell. “He seemed to like Kay, too.”

“Like you, she spoils him.”

“How long have you had him?”

“A few months. I brought him home with me from Colombia. Took him from a young man who’d taught him to kill on command.”

Chris burrowed her hand deeper into the dog’s silky fur. He rested his head on her thigh. “No way.”

“It’s true. He understands fluent Spanish, which meant I had to start all over with him. He’s smarter than most people I know. And better company.”

Chris recoiled at that last statement. “Ouch. Sorry if I ask too many questions.”

“What?” Marcus glanced at her, shaking his head. “You’re being a little paranoid. I wasn’t referring to you.”

“First, I lose my family one right after the other, and now a detective who had been protecting me has been shot. I’m a lot paranoid.”

Marcus took an exit off the freeway and wound through a well-kept neighborhood. He turned down the driveway of a ranch-style house and killed the engine. “Let me wash up, grab a shirt, and get Diablo situated.”

He got out, grabbed her suitcase that he’d loaded for her, and started inside. Again, the rippling muscles in his back drew her attention. Guilt rolled into a knot in her stomach. No more inappropriate thoughts while Wayne was in the hospital.
 

“Are we staying here?”

“No,” he answered quickly.

“You have my suitcase.”

“We have to come back so I can throw some clothes together and pick up Diablo. I didn’t want to leave your things in the car. Want me to put it in the trunk?”

“No. Leaving it here is fine.”

Marcus hesitated on the front porch. Did he not want her to go inside? He unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped back for her to enter first.

“I’ll feed Diablo and be right back.”

Alone in his living room, Chris looked around. A beige carpet paled under a royal blue couch and chair. A white oak coffee table complemented the pastel blue of the walls. Pictures on the shelves of a bookcase drew her attention. In one, a beautiful brunette stared lovingly at Marcus. Short and petite, she made Chris feel like a giant. Both their expressions spoke volumes. They had been very much in love.