Paradise Falls (A Romantic Suspense), page 17
Jacob looked back at the car. He firmed up his grip on the steering wheel, and glanced at Jennifer.
“Seat belt.”
Hurriedly, she strapped herself in. Jacob turned off and rolled through a stop sign onto Commerce Street. Then he floored it.
The front end of the car lifted up, and the engine snarled, filling the cabin with its angry drone as the car launched forward so fast is shoved Jennifer back into the seat and even Jacob looked to be holding into the wheel with all his strength. The Chrysler rolled straight through the intersection, and a moment later a bike pulled out of the corner gas station, and the lights began going around, followed by the siren.
Grimacing, Jacob braked hard until the car slowed down measurably, and the bike cop pulled up behind. He flicked his siren on and off twice, woop woop, and motioned for Jacob to pull over.
He guided the Aston Martin to the curb, and the officer pulled up and dismounted, leaving his bike running. As he took his helmet off and stood to his full height, the blood drained from Jennifer’s face. It was Ellison Carlyle.
He was in full PFPD motorcycle regalia- high jack boots, a long sleeved gray and black uniform, and a bit bulbous white helmet with a visor over his trademark mirror shades. Ellison stomped up to the Aston Martin, stacked heels clacking on the ground as he went. He walked like had spurs.
He unsnapped his sidearm before he approached the car, and Jacob put both hands on the wheel. He watched Carlyle stalk up beside the car in the rear view mirror, and turned to face him as he filled the window, never lifting his hands from the steering wheel.
Ellison tapped the window with his knuckles.
Slowly, and deliberately, Jacob reached over and held the button until the window disappeared into the door. Ellison leaned down and looked at them both.
“Going a little fast, huh?” said Ellsion.
Jacob shrugged.
“Oh, the right to remain silent,” said Ellsion. A grin spread on his face. “Out of the car. Both of you. Slowly.”
For emphasis, he took a few steps back into the street, looking both ways, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. Jacob glanced over at Jennifer and nodded slightly. He stepped out first, then her.
“Around this side, Miss.”
Jennifer walked around slowly, holding her hands out from her hips, her fingers spread to show they were empty. Jacob did the same. Ellison looked them both up and down.
“License and registration. Not you, her. Slow.”
“The glove box,” Jacob said.
Jennifer started back around.
“Lean in through this side,” said Ellison. “Slowly, so I can see you.”
Jennifer froze, staring at Ellison. She swallowed, hard, when she realized what that meant. Her throat was as dry as packed sand. Jacob shifted in front of her as she turned, leaned into the car, and reached across the seat.
“Out of the way,” said Ellison. “I need to see what she’s doing, for my safety.”
Jennifer suppressed a whimper. She could feel his eyes on her backside as she reached over and pulled out the envelope with the paper from Jacob’s car. She stood up, steeled herself before turning around, and handed them over. Ellison snatched the packet from her hand and went through it, slowly. Then he tucked it in his pocket.
“I’m gonna have to take a look inside the car,” said Ellison, moving forward.
“Why?”
“Can’t say.”
“I don’t consent to any searches,” said Jacob.
Ellison stopped. He frowned. “Now, let’s not make this unnecessarily complicated. I take a look and you go on your way, unless you got something to hide.”
Jennifer made herself stand still and not glance at the shoebox tucked behind Jacob’s seat. Jacob was as still as a statue.
“I don’t consent to a search.”
Ellison stepped forward. “I just need to take a look. Get out of the way.”
“You’re not going to push me into an assault charge, Ellison, but I’m not consenting, and my telephone is recording this conversation, and I have a witness. Get a warrant or go home.”
Ellison sneered. “Maybe I will. Call out the drug dogs. We won’t be gentle on that fancy upholstery, rich boy.”
“I can afford to fix it.”
Ellison clenched his jaw.
“Both of you, up against the car. Put your hands on the roof, and spread ‘em.”
Jacob nodded at Jennifer. They both turned and did as they were told. Ellison frisked Jacob first, and stood up looking genuinely surprised that he wasn’t armed and there was nothing in his pockets but a wallet and his phone, which he set on the roof of the car, and the Aston’s key.
Then Ellison turned to Jennifer.
“Spread your legs.”
Jennifer’s hands went white from pressing on the hood and her lip trembled. The shivers spread through her whole body, a crushing wave of liquid fear that soaked into her bones.
“I said spread your legs.”
Jennifer worked her heels apart, wincing at the pressure on her ankle. Jacob glared at Ellison as he stepped up behind her.
“Is this really necessary?” said Jacob.
“She could be carrying a weapon as easy as you,” said Ellison. “She has a permit for it and she didn’t inform me she’s carrying.”
“I’m not,” said Jennifer.
“We’ll see,” said Ellison.
He crouched behind her and put both hands on her calf, then slid them up over her leg. The higher he went the harder her heart hammered in her chest and the more her legs and arms trembled. Her head drooped and her eyes burned until she pressed them shut. His hands went all the way up, until his thumb brushed between her legs. Then he grabbed the other leg and ran down, and stood up.
He wasn’t frisking her, he was groping her. He patted her back pockets and it it turned into a full on squeeze, his fingers pressing hard into the meat of her buttocks. Jacob growled. Literally, a rumble from his throat. Ellison flinched but didn’t stop. He ran his hands up her back, then back down, and along her ribs.
Then his hands swept around the front, moving up over her stomach, towards her chest. Jennifer barked out a sob and her whole body shook as Ellison’s thumbs brushed her breasts and it felt like he was about to full on grope her. Jacob stood up and Ellison jerked back, grinning, as Jennifer slumped against the car.
Just then, there was the loud sound of a horn. A red Toyota pickup stopped in the middle of the road, and a group of teenagers piled out. The driver was Chris, a tall basketball player and a student from Jennifer’s honors English class, and his girlfriend Amber, and from the back seat Michelle and Melissa, twins from her AP class, and a boy she didn’t know, and there was another pair of students in the bed of the truck, two boys that hopped over the side. The seven of them walked over.
“What’s going on?” said Chris.
Ellison turned to them, sharply. “Not your business. Move along.”
“What’d you do to her?” said Melissa, storming up to Ellison.
The other students crowded around. Ellison’s hand landed on the butt of his gun.
“Hands off that sidearm,” Jacob barked, so loud his voice cut through all the other sound.
Ellison jerked back. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Jacob cut him off.
“Are you giving me a speeding ticket, or not?”
“Look-“
Jacob raised his voice again, looking at the kids.
“Are we under arrest?”
Ellison looked around, nervous. “No…”
“Are we being detained, or are we free to go?”
Ellison’s face darkened. “Wait here.”
He pushed through the crowd back to his bike, sat down, and pulled out an old-fashioned ticket book, lacking a computer. He wrote the citation out by hand, then handed it back over with the papers from the car. Jacob calmly took it all.
“Have a nice day,” Ellison mumbled, then returned to his bike.
He had to walk it out onto the wrong side of the road to get around the knot of kids and their truck. He finally took off, glancing once over his shoulder.
Jennifer stood up, but her knees almost gave out. Jacob gently circled his arms around her, and she buried her face in his chest, pressing against him hard. She felt another, smaller hand rest on her shoulder. One of the twins. The kids were all gathered around, looking nervously at each other.
“Is she going to be okay?” said Chris, looking at Jacob.
He nodded. “She’ll be fine.”
“Let us follow you,” said Chris. “He might come back.”
“Where are you kids headed?” said Jacob.
“Out,” said Chris. “After Krystal… everybody’s real scared, Mister Kane. Stuff like this doesn’t happen here. Nothing happens here.”
“Do me a favor,” said Jacob. “Stay together, and stay in town where somebody can see you.”
The boy nodded.
Jacob walked Jennifer back around to the other side of the car and lowered her into the seat, and then got in himself. He pulled a towel from behind her seat and she pulled into her lap, found the corner, and scrubbed at her eyes until her cheeks were raw and blew her nose. She was still shaking.
“Breathe,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she managed, gripping the edges of the towel. “Let’s get out of here.”
True to their word, the truck full of kids followed the Aston Martin until Jacob turned up the hill road, slowing to wave at them and blow his horn. Then he carefully, gently took the rest of the road up to the house and pulled into the garage. Katie was in the living room and when she saw Jennifer she rushed over and locked her in a bear hug.
“What the hell?” she demanded.
Jacob told her what happened.
Katie’s face went red and she shook with fury. “That bastard,” she snarled. “I’ll-“
“Stay here,” Jennifer said, standing up. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Where’s that .38?” said Jacob.
“In my purse.”
“Go get it,” said Jacob, to Katie, “then go downstairs. I need your help carrying a few things outside.”
He eased Jennifer to the couch. “Just relax for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Jennifer sank back, forcing herself to breathe in and out, slowly. It was a conscious effort at first, but by the time Jacob came back, she was mostly calm and scrubbed at her eyes with her fingers.
“Come out back.”
Jennifer got up and followed him out. He had a picnic table and a long wooden bench set up. The hill behind the house rose up at a gradual incline toward the very top, and at different ranges metal targets were set up. Jacob had her little gun resting unloaded on a green felt cloth.
“First off,” he said, “when was the last time you cleaned this?”
“Um,” said Jennifer.
Jacob sighed. “I took the liberty.”
Her little gun was not the only one. Three big metal cases lay open on the bench, and futuristic looking black rifles rested on egg crate padding, and there were boxes of ammunition and a box of tools. Katie was looking over it all with raised eyebrows.
Jacob gave her a look.
“Uh,” she said. “I’ll be inside.”
He looked at Jennifer.
“Haven’t been to a range in a while, have you?”
She shook her head.
“Okay,” he said, lifting her weapon. “Revolvers are pretty simple, especially one like this. It’s a Ruger, so it’s nice and dependable. Easy to take care of. Here,” he showed her the inside and pointed with his finger. “You need to keep these spots lubricated. The pawl that turns the cylinder, and this part is called the crane. You don’t want it binding up. The lubricant dries out after a while, so it needs a cleaning now and then. Most modern guns are fine sitting in a drawer for a while. You’re lucky. If this wasn’t stainless, the finish would be ruined by now.”
Jennifer took it from him, very carefully keeping the barrel pointed downrange, like her father taught her all those years ago. Jacob set a box of ammunition next to her.
“You had wadcutters in it. Somebody give you those?”
She nodded. “I inherited, I guess. I took it when I was old enough. Mom didn’t want it. I have a box of bullets somewhere. What’s wadcutter?”
“Practice ammo,” said Jacob. “Meant for putting clean holes in paper targets. It’s still very deadly, but it’s not the best. These are going to kick a bit harder than you’re used to.”
One by one, Jennifer slipped the rounds into the cylinder and closed it, pressing it shut with her hand until it locked.
“Good,” he said. “Never swing it closed like they do in movies. It hurts the locking mechanism. Wait.”
He slipped her a pair of eaplugs, but they didn’t muffle any sound.
“What are these?”
“State of the art electronics,” he said. “They muffle loud sounds, but let softer sounds through.”
“Wow,” she said. She could feel the earplugs moving with her mouth moved. “Alright.”
“There,” he said, pointing at a black steel circle maybe fifteen yards away. “Aim for the middle.”
Jennifer sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger. Dirt and leaves puffed up a foot to the left of the target. She sighed.
“I’m out of practice,” she said.
“Can I show you something?”
She nodded.
“Hold it up like you’re about to fire, but keep your finger off the trigger.”
Jennifer nodded again. He stepped behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. He lowered his voice.
“Is this okay?”
She nodded, and made herself relax, even though the touch of a man standing behind her made her tremble just a little, even if she trusted him.
“You flinch when you pull the trigger,” he said, “and pull down and to the left, and you need to work on your trigger pull. It’s long in a double action, so you have to keep your eyes open and keep the sights on the target until it goes off.”
Gingerly, he reached around with his left hand and steadied her arms. She leaned back a little, resting against his chest. His breath tickled the side of her neck.
“Aim down the sights. Line up the posts, and underline the target with them. Go ahead and shoot when you’re ready.”
This time, she kept her eyes open until the gun bucked in her hand. The bang was immediately followed by a loud ping and the target rocked on its little base.
Jennifer’s face lit up and she almost jumped in excitement. It was just like the last time.
“I got it!” she chirped.
“Do it again.”
He let go of her this time, and just stood behind. Her next three shots hit the target. He had her fire the next cylinder at a longer distance, and then again until she was shooting one halfway up the hill and hit three times out of five.
“Not bad for a snubby with fixed sights,” said Jacob. “We’ll need to clean this. I’ll go through it with you. Let’s try the rifles.”
Jennifer shifted nervously on her feet. “I’ve never shot one of those before.”
“I’ll run you through it. Come over here.”
She moved to his side and looked down at the rifle. It was all black, and it looked angry, somehow.
“Pick it up. It won’t bite you.”
She lifted it by the pistol grip and the front end, like she’d seen people do before. Jacob moved close to her, and tilted in her hands.
“First,” he said,” this is the safety. F is fire, S is safe. Try it.”
She flipped the lever back and forth.
“This is a semi-automatic, so it’ll go off every time you pull the trigger.”
“Like my gun,” she said.
“It works completely differently. This is a gas-operated rifle, but it’s the same principle, yes. The trigger pull is going to be much, much lighter. It’ll go off easier.”
“Okay.”
“Now, to load. Pick up a magazine. See how they’re curved? Curve it away from you.”
He nodded approvingly as she picked it up.
“Now, push it into the magazine well. Don’t slap it, like they do on television. Just push it firmly until it locks. You’ll feel it.”
Jennifer slid the metal box into the bottom of the rifle until she felt something click, gave it a good push, and gingerly pulled her hand back, letting it hang.
“Now, pull the charging handle. Here.”
A little metal bit pulled back on top of the rifle above the stock. She held it, looking at him, until she realized she had to let go and it snapped home. It didn’t feel any different, but she knew it was loaded now.
“Okay, the sight works just a bit different. You want the post to be in the middle of the metal ring. Look down the sights.”
“The ring is fuzzy,” said Jennifer. “I can’t really see it.”
“That’s how it works,” said Jacob. “You’ll get a feel for it. Now, you want the top of the post to underline the place you want the bullet to go. Aim at the last target you shot. I’ll help you, okay?”
“Alright.”
He stepped around behind her and steadied her aim with his arms. Jennifer let out a long breath, and when her lungs were empty put her finger on the trigger and increased the pressure until the rifle went off. She blinked, surprised. It really did go off with just a touch of her finger.
Jacob lowered his arms, but didn’t move back. Jennifer sighted down on the rifle and fired again. This time she clearly heard the ping of the target being struck.
“Further back,” he said.
She nodded, and fired. She hit, and each time she made a hit he told her to aim for the next target. When the rifle was finally empty, the bolt locked back. He showed her how to take the magazine back out and motioned her down the table.
“Jennifer, that last one was almost two hundred yards away. That’s a long shot for open sights, even on a rifle. You’re really good at this.”
Her chest actually swelled with pride.
“Now,” he said, handing her another magazine. Recharge the weapon.”
She put the magazine in right, but the charging handle wasn’t working.
“Here,” he showed her another button. It made the bolt go home.
