Colton 911--Soldier's Return, page 12
When he didn’t, she pushed to her feet, shrugging away from her brother.
Jones got up, too, his expression shaken. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I’ve got to find Micha and make sure he’s all right.” She couldn’t lose him again, she just couldn’t. In that moment, frozen in terror, how much she cared for him slammed into her.
“You’re not going to lose him,” Jones replied, making her realize she must have spoken out loud. Grabbing her arm, Jones put his face level with hers. “I’ll go,” he said. “Mom would never forgive me if I allowed you to get hurt.”
Dizzy, all Carly could do was nod. “I can’t lose you, either,” she said. “Please, Jones. Stay safe.”
As her brother started for the foyer, she sank back down to the floor, barely registering the spray of glass all over her carpet and furniture. Bridget whined from somewhere in the kitchen and Carly began to crawl toward her, needing to make sure her pet hadn’t been hurt.
Just then the front door opened, and Micha stepped inside. His grim expression revealed nothing. “Call 911,” he told Carly.
Chapter 8
Carly froze, all the blood draining from her face as she stared at him. Concerned, Micha started for her. “Are you hurt?” he rasped, his chest tight at the thought of something, anything, having happened to her.
“N-n-no,” she stammered, her wide-eyed gaze sweeping over him. “I’m okay. What about you? That looks like blood on your arm.”
Glancing at himself, Micha cursed as he realized she was right. Of course, the instant he noticed it, the damn thing started hurting. “Must be a flesh wound,” he said. “Do you have a clean rag or something I can use to stop the bleeding?”
Jones rushed into the kitchen, glass crunching underfoot, and returned with a dish towel. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to Micha. “I hope you don’t mind,” he told Carly. “It’s all I could find.”
Though it wasn’t long enough to tie a proper tourniquet, Micha tried to make due. His arm now throbbed like hell and he at least needed to stop the bleeding.
Seeing the problem, Carly hurried into her linen closet, removed an old but clean sheet and tried to tear it. Failing that, she grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a long and wide strip, which she folded over to make it thicker. “Let me,” she said, wrapping it around his arm. “Leave the dish towel in place, but this should work until we can get your arm checked out.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” he started to protest, but then he noticed how her hands shook and held his tongue.
The instant she’d finished, she swayed and stumbled as if she might fall. Instinctively, he reached for her, wincing as he tried to use his injured arm. Jones noticed and rushed over and helped his sister to the sofa. “Sit,” he ordered. “Are you all right? You look awfully pale.”
She stared up at him and grimaced. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I feel really weird.” Her gaze became unfocused, though she remained conscious and sitting up. Micha dropped down on the couch next to her and put his arm around her while exchanging a worried glance with her brother.
“I think you might be in shock,” Jones said. “Let me get you some water.”
More glass crunched underfoot as he got a glass of water and brought it to her. Murmuring a thank-you, she accepted it and took a sip. Keeping one arm around her shoulders, Micha reached in his pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there. Which meant it must have fallen out at some point, likely when he’d been crawling toward the door. Damn it. He needed to find it, but not right now. Carly was his main concern.
“We need to call 911,” he said. “Chicago PD is supposed to be doing increased patrols, but they clearly missed this. I want to have Carly looked at.”
She opened her eyes. “You need to have your arm checked out first,” she said, squirming out from under his arm. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go ahead and call them?”
“I need to find my phone first.” Micha pushed to his feet and started to search. “It has to be somewhere between here and that big oak tree,” he said. “I didn’t go anywhere else.”
Jones began to help him. “Did you get a glimpse of the shooter?” he asked.
“No. He was wearing a helmet. I squeezed off a couple of shots, but he went by really fast and I wasn’t entirely prepared. I’m not sure if I hit him or not.”
“I’m calling the police now,” Carly said. Though still appearing dazed, she dialed 911 and told the dispatcher what had happened. When she ended the call, she informed them in a shaky voice that the woman promised to send a squad car out immediately. Some of the color had returned to her face and she seemed to be breathing better.
Nodding, Micha continued his search for his phone.
“Here it is,” Jones said, pulling it out from under a decorative table near the front door. “It must have fallen from your pocket during all that insanity earlier.”
Thanking the other man, Micha did a quick inspection to make sure there’d been no damage. Once he’d ascertained everything was fine, he slid the phone back into his pocket.
In the distance, they could all hear the sirens, which meant the police would be here soon.
“Well,” Jones said, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “I guess we still can’t really tell who the shooter was after.”
“He shot up my house,” Carly protested.
“But Micha was inside,” Jones replied. “So he could have been after either one of you.”
“What about you?” Carly took another long sip of her water. “Is it possible someone might be after our entire family?”
Jones shrugged, appearing unconcerned. “Anything is possible,” he conceded. “But since I haven’t had any threats or anything, I think we can rule that out.” Eyeing Carly, he frowned. “Speaking of that, I need to call Heath and fill him in.”
Outside, the sirens cut off, though the flash of blue and red lights announced the arrival of the police. A sharp knock on the front door had Micha hurrying to answer it.
Bridget barked twice, then took off for the bedroom, tail tucked between her legs, presumably to take shelter under Carly’s bed.
Micha opened the door. There were two patrol cars and four officers. Two of them used flashlights to check the outside. The other two came in and inspected the damage, shaking their heads at the broken glass.
“You’re the guy whose car exploded, right?” one of the policemen asked. “I wasn’t on duty then, but I sure heard about it. That would have been a hell of a way to die.”
Thinking back to some of the things he’d seen in Afghanistan, Micha agreed.
Carly, Micha and Jones all gave their statements, which were duly recorded. Once Jones had made certain nothing else was needed from him, he slipped out to his vehicle to call Heath.
After making sure her dog was safe in her bedroom, Carly closed that door to keep her in there and then got out a broom and began sweeping up the broken glass. “I’m glad Bridget didn’t cut her feet,” she said to no one in particular.
The two outside officers returned, apparently having finished up. “We’re going to speak with your neighbors in case anyone had a video camera. If we learn anything, someone will keep you posted.”
Micha crossed his arms. “Just like someone was supposed to beef up patrols on this street after the car bomb?”
The older officer stared him down, though the younger one blinked. “We can check into that, if you’d like. Hyde Park patrols are usually pretty routine, so I’m thinking they would be able to swing by here once or twice per shift.”
“What about your arm?” Carly asked, pointing to his makeshift bandage. “He needs to have that checked out.”
“Were you shot?” Getting out his radio, one of the cops appeared ready to call for an EMT.
“It’s okay.” Micha held up his hand to forestall him. “A bullet just grazed my arm. No need to call anyone. Once I clean and bandage it, I’ll be fine. It’s just a matter of getting the proper supplies.”
The youngest officer appeared unconvinced. He blinked and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. “Maybe we should have someone look at it, just in case.”
“No need,” Micha insisted. “I had much worse injuries over in Afghanistan. I’m good.”
“Oh, you’re a veteran. Well, then I guess you’d know.” Reluctantly, the cop nodded.
Micha glanced over at Carly, half expecting her to protest, but she didn’t. Her gaze had once again gone hazy and unfocused and she appeared lost in her own thoughts. He ached to go to her and hold her, to chase away the shadows in her expression. She didn’t deserve this, no one did, but especially not Carly. How anyone could target such a beautiful, gentle soul was beyond him.
Which made the idea of him being the target here instead of her much more plausible. Which meant he needed to seriously try to figure out a short list of his enemies. But he honestly couldn’t think of anyone who hated him enough to want him dead.
Once the police had gone, Carly stirred. “I need to clean up this mess,” she said. “I don’t want Bridget cutting her feet.” Moving slowly and stiffly, she retrieved a broom and a dustpan from her laundry room.
Micha took the broom from her as she walked by him. She didn’t resist at all, and he considered asking her to sit back down and leave the cleanup to him but figured keeping her busy might help more.
“Let me clear this out,” he said, using the broom handle to bust out the remaining pieces of glass from the window frame. Then he swept and she held the dustpan. Working as a team, she dumped the shards into the kitchen trash can. Once they’d finished the floor, she got out her vacuum and went over the entire area to make sure she hadn’t missed any. She turned it off and methodically rewound the cord. “I wouldn’t want to take the chance of Bridget cutting her feet,” she said, repeating herself, her voice devoid of inflection.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.
She looked up, focusing on him, and grimaced. “You know what? I’m not. Not really. I’m trying really hard to get there, though.”
Taking the vacuum from her, Micha urged her to sit, either in the armchair or at the kitchen table. The fact that she nodded and shuffled off to do as he’d asked alarmed him. He’d speak to Jones and see if they could get her to agree to get checked out at the hospital.
Quickly, he used the hose to do the couch. He knew for certain more than a few glass shards had made it there. Then he went to check on Carly. Jones still hadn’t returned from his outside phone call. He’d been gone so long that Micha began to wonder if the younger man had left.
Micha debated going in search of Jones, but Carly mattered more. He found her sitting at the kitchen table, staring straight ahead, both hands wrapped around her water glass. She glanced up when he entered, her lips parted. “Hey,” she said, greeting him softly.
His chest squeezed. “Hey,” he responded in kind, going to her and carefully wrapping his arms around her from behind. “It’s going to be all right,” he promised, breathing in the slightly floral scent of her hair.
“Is it?” she asked, leaning back into him. “I just don’t understand how someone can do such horrible things. Or why.”
“Agreed.” He lightly kissed her cheek, allowing himself to linger. “We have to believe that sooner or later whoever is doing this will make a mistake and be caught.”
“Carly?” Jones’s voice as he came through the back door into the kitchen, still on his phone. He glanced curiously from one to the other. “Carly, Heath wants to talk to you.”
Carly barely managed to stifle a groan. Micha released her and Jones handed her the phone. She took a deep breath, pressed the speaker button and placed the phone on the table in front of her.
“Heath, the last thing I need right now is a lecture,” Carly said, apparently having decided to go on attack first. “It’s been a crazy few days. I’m exhausted and terrified. And none of this is my fault.” She took a deep breath.
“I get all of that,” Heath responded, his voice surprisingly gentle. “None of this is your fault, it is crazy and I can imagine how awful you must feel. But I’m your older brother. It’s my job to be worried about you. I’m glad Jones was there.”
“And Micha,” she pointed out, her gaze sliding over to him. While he felt kind of awkward, listening in to the conversation, Carly clearly wanted him to hear. “By the way, I’ve got you on speaker.”
After a second or two of completely awkward silence, Heath cleared his throat. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired,” Carly replied. “And I know you have good intentions, but in this situation, there’s absolutely nothing you can do to help.”
“I can call Chicago PD and demand more patrols.”
“Micha’s already done that,” Carly shot back.
“What about the FBI? I have contacts there since I’ve been dealing with the agents who are investigating the possible serial killings.” Before Carly could respond, Heath sighed. “Let me guess. Micha’s already done that.”
Micha decided to speak up. “Hey, Heath. How’s it going?”
Instead of responding in kind, Heath went quiet again. “Micha, I need to know something. How much of all this is happening due to you hanging around my sister?”
“I don’t know.” All Micha could do was give Heath the truth. “We still haven’t figured out if I’m the target or if it’s Carly.”
“Maybe you two should consider splitting up for safety’s sake.” The hard edge to Heath’s voice told Micha that he meant business. But the notion—even thinking about going away and not seeing Carly for a protracted period of time—felt like a knife in the gut. Plus, who would protect her if he was gone?
But still, he hesitated. Possibly Heath was right. Perhaps being around Carly wasn’t the best thing right now for her safety. Except...what if he left her alone and she turned out to be the actual target? He needed to stay with her, if only to protect her. While he knew Heath wouldn’t understand in a million years, Micha wouldn’t even want to live anymore if something happened to Carly.
To Micha’s relief, Carly shook her head. “No splitting up. That’s not going to happen,” she said, her tone firm. “I just got him back, almost from the dead. I can’t send him away so soon. Plus, I feel safer with Micha around.”
Her words had him going to her and slipping his arm around her shoulders. He could feel her tension as she waited for Heath to argue. Jones wisely stayed out of it, leaning on the door frame silently in the background watching, while sipping on another one of his beers.
“Well, I guess that’s your choice,” Heath finally said, which made Carly glance up at Micha, her surprise plain on her face. “But, Carly, I wanted to offer you another choice. Come stay with me. Or even Jones. Clearly someone has targeted your home. You can’t tell me you believe you could be safe there any longer, not until this person or people are caught.”
Jones finally spoke up. “He’s right, Carly. You’ve got to stay somewhere else for a little bit.” He eyed Micha. “How about Micha’s place?”
“No, that won’t work,” Carly answered. Micha silently thanked her for not telling her brothers that he’d been living in a hotel. “I have a dog now. And I don’t like the idea of someone driving me out of my own home.”
“I don’t like the idea of someone killing you, either,” Heath said, his tone dry.
Micha decided he’d heard enough. “Look, I understand your concern. I’m right there with you. But if Carly wants to stay in her own home, she should. I’ll be here with her. I have a gun and I know how to use it. I give you my word that I’ll protect her, no matter what. Even with my own life, if it comes to that.”
Carly gasped. “Don’t talk like that,” she admonished Micha before turning her attention back to the phone. “Heath, I’m twenty-nine years old and a responsible adult. I promise you that I’ll be careful. I won’t go anywhere alone. When I’m not at work, I’ll be with Micha.”
“Plus, the police are on it,” Micha interjected. “And the FBI is also involved. They should catch this guy soon.”
“I still don’t like it,” Heath grumbled. “Though I can see I don’t have a choice.”
“You don’t.” Carly spoke firmly. “I’ll see you Friday at Lone Wolf, okay?”
“Fine. I assume you’re bringing Micha?”
“Of course,” she answered.
Of course. Micha allowed himself a second to bask in that phrase.
“Good.” An undercurrent of warning colored Heath’s voice. “Micha, you and I will talk then.” And he ended the call.
“That sounded like a threat,” Jones said, strolling into the room. “Proof positive how rattled big brother is.”
“I’m rattled, too,” Carly said, her tone sharp. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” Jones shook his head. “We need to get some plywood and cover this window. Carly, do you have any?”
“Plywood?” She shrugged. “I doubt it. But who knows? The previous owner never emptied the storage shed, so there might be some there. And my garage is full, too. I’ve never gotten around to cleaning it out, though I definitely plan to before winter gets here.”
“Let’s go take a look,” Jones suggested.
Carly grabbed her flashlight. “Let me check on Bridget,” she said. Despite Carly calling her, Bridget refused to leave the bedroom, clearly still terrified. Micha suspected Carly would have to do quite a bit of coddling before she could coax the dog out.
Finally, with Carly leading the way, all three of them went outside to look for plywood or something they could use to board up the window temporarily.
Inside the shed, they found several full sheets of plywood, though most of them were either warped or had split. Micha and Jones chose the best one out of the stack. “This will be large enough to entirely cover that window,” Micha said.
