Smitten (25 page)

“There’s a crime scene unit coming to collect the evidence in the storage unit,” he informed me.

“Good. All the stuff in there is most likely stolen,” I replied. “They should probably look for blood evidence on anything, just in case too.”

A second squad car pulled in behind the first
, and I led Roberta down to it and opened the door for her.

“Hunter.” She paused staring at me with a funny look. “It’s strange, but I don’t think I was ever told your real name.”

“Dylan,” I responded, wishing I could withhold it, but it would come out in the court proceedings.

“Dylan,” she tested the name out. “I know you’re with Cami, but is there any chance after all this is over that you and I—”

I held up a hand to stop her. “Roberta,” I paused, not knowing how to deliver the news gently. It had been obvious she was growing too attached to me. I decided to lay it out there for her. “Cami and I got married while we were in Vegas.”

“Married?” Her mouth dropped open in shock. “I
 . . . I can’t believe it.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You really didn’t feel anything for me, did you?” she asked, mirroring Ripper’s question.

“Friendship,” I replied, trying to soften the blow. “It was all I could feel. Cami—she’s it for me. I’m sorry for the heartache you’ve been through, but you’re a beautiful girl
, and I have no doubt you’ll find love again. Give it time.”

She smiled wanly. “You don’t have to say anymore. I get it.” She slid into the vehicle without any further issue and stared straight ahead as I closed the door.

“Add another victim to the trail of broken hearts you’ve left in your wake,” Chris said with a chuckle.

“That was never my intention. I tried to keep her at arm
’s length.”

“I know, buddy.” He clapped me on the shoulder and gave a sigh. “The things we have to do in the name of the job.”

“Yeah, well this was my last job,” I replied as we both watched the squad cars drive away.

“You’re sure you’re serious about that?” He gave me a concerned look.

“Dead serious.” I started walking back toward the storage unit. “I’m done.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Cami-

“I can’t wait for all the court stuff to be finished with this case. I’m so ready to be out of there for good,” Dylan said as he straightened
his tie in the mirror. He turned and saw me staring at him in appreciation from the doorway and grinned. He was so hot in his official police uniform. “How do I look?”

“Honestly?” I asked, going to him and running my hands up his chest. “This may be one thing I’m really going to miss
about your job.”

He laughed and cupped my face in his hands. “Maybe I can keep it
 . . . you know, as a costume for later. Have you ever had any cop fantasies?”

“I’m having one right now,” I teased
, and he groaned out loud.

“That’s not very fair of you. You know I have to leave now for this blasted court hearing.”

“I’ll still be here when you get back.”

He bent and lightly kissed my lips. “Have I told you how much I enjoy you living in my apartment?”

I smiled. “Only about a thousand times in the last two days. And I
am
your wife—it would be a little weird for me to be anywhere else.”

He reached around and pinched my butt. “You know what I mean.” He sighed heavily. “Kiss me again. I’ve got to get going.”

I slid my arms around his neck and gave him a big, long kiss. He didn’t seem too eager for it to end, and neither did I. The longer we kissed, the more frantic it got. He walked me backwards—neither of us breaking apart as we moved—until we ran into the wall.

He released me then, bracing his hands on the wall beside me. “Dammit, Cami. I’ve got to leave.”

“Are you sure?” I asked innocently. I had no problem keeping him here with me.

He laughed and pecked me briefly on the lips before stepping away. “No, I’m not sure. I want to stay right here. You don’t play fair at all.”

I smiled. “Sorry. I like being in your arms.”

“Likewise,” he replied.

“Come on. I’ll walk you to the door,” I said as I moved past him.

“Okay. Let me grab my gun real quick.”

I raised an eyebrow and snickered at him.

He shot me an exasperated look. “Don’t even go there.”

I made the motion of zipping my lips and throwing away the key, and he shook his head.

Following
me to the front of the apartment, he paused for a few seconds as I opened the door, and kissed me again. “Hopefully this won’t take too long. Keep that fantasy playing, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Sounds great to me. Good luck.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

I watched him run down the steps and out to the Camaro.
He glanced up and waved at me again before sliding in and driving off. I closed the door and leaned against it.

I was so happy. Everything was finally starting to work out for us. Yes, my parents had been shocked, but they’d taken the news well. So had Dylan’s dad. Both our mothers were now in a frenzy trying to plan the perfect wedding so we could celebrate with family and friends.
As far as I was concerned, all was perfect as it stood right now. Dylan was my husband, the case was done, and we were living together. It was all I ever wanted.

I walked to where several unpacked boxes of my belongings still sat untouched. We’d gotten a little distracted putting things away. I opened the top one and was reaching inside when the doorbell rang. I wondered if Dylan had forgotten something, or if Russ was here to help.
I opened the door and was shocked to find Roberta standing there. She was dressed nicely and had a big trendy bag hanging from her shoulder.

“Uh, hi, Roberta.” I leaned out and glanced around, but no one else was with her. “Dylan just left for Ripper’s hearing. I thought you’d be there too.”

She shook her head. “Ripper doesn’t know I’m not in jail still. No one has told him I was the one who turned him in. Is it okay if I come in?”

I hesitated. We weren’t really friends, even though we’d spent a lot of time together. She’d made it clear she was interested in Dylan.

“Honestly, Roberta, due to your involvement in an ongoing case, I don’t think it would be wise for me to let you in. I wouldn’t want to compromise things, and Dylan could be accused of not doing things by the book.”

Roberta shifted anxiously. “Oh. I didn’t think about that. I definitely wouldn’t want to get Hunter in trouble.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry
 . . . Dylan. I have a hard time calling him that after calling him Hunter for so long.”

I smiled. “Trust me. I understand completely. I’ve only recently made the switch myself. I still slip up once in a while too.”

She nodded and looked around absently. “Hun . . . Dylan told me you two got married. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I replied, wondering why she was still standing here. “Did he tell you where we lived? I didn’t know any of you were aware of this address.”

“Uh, no. I ran into that friend of yours—Rud? He told me.”

“You mean Russ?” I was one hundred percent positive Russ would never—under any circumstances—give our address out to Roberta. Something wasn’t right.

“Yeah, Russ. Sorry. I’m so bad with names.”

“No worries! Let me call him real quick
, and he can come over. That way we have someone who can vouch for us, in case we need it.”

“You don’t need to call. I won’t be here much longer. I just wanted to give you something,” she said in a rush. “I was hoping Hunter would be here so I could give it to you together, but you can tell him I brought it by. Tell him it’s a wedding present—my way of saying thank you to both of you. I have it down in the trunk. Can you help me with it? It’s kind of heavy.”

I was shocked. “You didn’t have to get us anything. He was simply doing his job.”

“He might have been, but you weren’t. Besides, he really helped me out with everything.”

“I’m not sure what the protocol is for something like this, Roberta. I know the department has rules, though. Would you mind coming back later, when he’s home? I’d feel more comfortable with that. I’d hate to do something wrong.”

She fidgeted again and glanced around, almost
as if she were waiting for someone.

“Is there anything else you need?” I asked, feeling exasperated. She didn’t seem to want to leave.

“Yeah, can I borrow your phone real quick? Mine was taken as evidence, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to get it back.”

“Sure.” I reached into my pocket and handed it out to her. She took with a shaky hand and dropped it. I bent to retrieve it, but when I stood
, I found a gun pointed at my chest. I raised my hands immediately to signal submission, dropping the phone as I did so. It shattered on the ground. “What’s going on, Roberta?”

“You and I are going for a little ride, that’s what’s going on.” She tilted her head toward the parking lot.

“Look, if you want to steal the Camaro, Dylan has it. I don’t have a car.”

“I don’t want your damn car. That was Ripper’s deal. I never wanted to be involved in the first place. Get walking.”

Leaving the door open and the remnants of the phone on the ground, I prayed Dylan would realize I was in trouble and be able to find me somehow, but that could be hours from now. Who knew what would happen between now and then? My mind moved franticly, trying to seize onto an idea that would help me get out of my current predicament.

“Why are you doing this? You’re in the clear. They caught your brother
, and you’ve gotten immunity for your testimony. You’re jeopardizing everything.” I needed to keep her talking.

She didn’t say anything, but pulled a set of keys from her pocket and tossed them to me.

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’re driving. It’s the yellow and black mustang in the lot over there.”

Immediately, I recognized it as new. “I thought you said stealing cars wasn’t your thing.”

“It isn’t,” she sneered. “But unlike Ripper, I actually invested my money into interest
-bearing accounts. I siphoned off the interest into other accounts. I gave the police what Ripper gave me. But the rest is mine. I
earned
every penny of that money.”

I wasn’t going to argue with her reasoning. She wasn’t exactly making sense right now.

She went to the passenger side and opened the door. “Slide across,” she ordered.

I got in and clumsily slid over the center into the driver’s seat, buckling out of habit.

“Start it and put it in drive.”

“Are you going to tell me what
’s going on? None of this makes any sense. I don’t understand why you would do something like this when everything was working out for you.” I pulled from the space and slowly made my way out of the parking lot, turning onto the highway in the direction she indicated. Roberta kept the gun low and trained right on me.

“Pull into the
left lane and stay in it until I say otherwise.”

I did as she asked, my heart beating rapidly.

“Ripper didn’t kill Manny. I did.”.

I turned to stare at her, open mouthed, trying to make sense of what she’d just confessed.

“Why would you frame your brother for that?” I couldn’t believe it.

She gave a sardonic laugh. “My brother—and Manny for that matter—were the worst kind of scum. You know those private meetings they had with buyers? Well, they took me along to sweeten the deals.”

I had a sick feeling. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I mean
the whole crazy overprotective brother act was just that—an act. They made me into a whore—all so they could get more money! I kept hoping Manny would get jealous and do something about it, but he never did. He sat by and let those vile men use me however they wanted, same as Ripper.”

“That’s terrible, Roberta!” I honestly felt disgusted for her. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“I was going to, but then Manny and I had an argument one night in the garage after everyone had gone. I got really angry and shoved him hard. He tripped over a car part lying on the floor behind him and fell back and smashed his head against one of Ripper’s tool boxes.” She got quieter. “I knew immediately he was dead—there was blood everywhere.”

“But it was an accident!” I protested. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”

“Because I suddenly realized I could frame my brother for the whole thing and get rid of him too. He deserves to rot in jail!”

“Yes, he does, but there’s still time for you to come forward and tell your part of the story. It doesn’t have to end like this!” I pleaded, hoping to make her see reason.

“I got away with it once. I can do it again,” she replied calmly. “Hunter will be devastated when he loses his wife. Who better to comfort him than someone who’s been through the same thing?”

“You want Dylan,” I said flatly, everything suddenly ma
de sense.

“Yes, I do. And as you can see, I always get what I want.”

I said nothing—gripping the steering wheel so tightly I could hardly feel my fingers. No one in the surrounding cars was paying any attention to us, that I could tell. I had to do something now. There was no way I was going to let her get to Dylan.

In a split second
, I’d made my decision. I cranked the wheel hard and fast to the right, causing the car behind us in the next lane to T-bone Roberta’s side of the vehicle. Her head crashed into the window shattering it, and my head whipped in the same direction, but the seatbelt kept me in place.

The backside of our car swung around, and smashed into the bumper of the vehicle in front of us, jolting us both hard again. I could hear screeching tires
, and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air.

We headed straight for the wall of a store,
my foot still burying the gas pedal until I slammed on the brakes as the front end crashed through the building. Both air bags deployed as debris rained down in loud, giant thuds against the roof. I raised my hands protectively as it dented in, expecting it to collapse on us at any moment.

And then there was silence.

Carefully, I turned toward Roberta. Her eyes were closed, and she was slumped against her seat. Her right arm was twisted at an odd angle, and she was bleeding from her head. The gun was on the floor at her feet, and I wasn’t taking any chances. Reaching caused me to groan in pain, but the tips of my fingers managed to hook the trigger guard. Dragging the weapon toward me, I picked it up and tossed it out the driver’s side window.

Several people ran
up to the vehicle. “Are you okay?” a concerned man shouted.

“We need an ambulance and the police. Call 911 and tell them this is a hostage situation involving Officer Wilcock’s wife,” I instructed, rubbing my arms
, which were already beginning to bruise. “My phone is broken.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away.” He ripped out his phone and dialed the number right there, relaying the information I’d given him correctly.

“Miss?” the man spoke again. “The dispatcher wants to know if you’re hurt?”