“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 made 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?”
“I’m sore, but as far as I can tell, nothing appears to be broken.”
He peered farther into the vehicle and began relaying Roberta’s condition to the dispatcher. My head was spinning and I closed my eyes, waiting.
“Ma’am? They want me to hold the phone to your ear. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I replied feeling dizzy. I leaned back against the seat. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Wilcock, this is dispatch. I’m relaying a message to you from Officer Wilcock. He’s en-route to your location.
“Cami! Cami!” Dylan’s frantic voice suddenly piped through the phone. “Can you hear me?”
“I’m okay, Dylan. I promise. Roberta’s not doing too well, though, from the looks of things. We need help.”
“Hang on. I’ll be there soon. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whispered.
“I’ve dispatched two ambulances to your location since this is a multi-vehicle accident,” the woman’s voice came again over the radio. “The fire department is on the way also.”
“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt anyone else. She had a gun on me, and I didn’t know how else to stop her.” I started to cry.
“Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Wilcock. We’ll take care of everything. Just relax as best you can.”
The sound of multiple sirens filled the air, and I sighed in relief, knowing what it meant. Help was coming, and Dylan was on the way.
Finally . . . it was truly over.
Epilogue
Cami-
Two Years Later
“Russ, can you help me with these boxes?” I called, and he appeared in the doorway.
“Sure. Where do you want them?” he asked, coming to my side.
“These are all my glass dishes, so in the kitchen please.”
“Will do—if I can find my way to the kitchen in this new castle of yours. This place is huge! And have you seen the pool? I can tell where I’m going to spend my summer’s from now on.” He grinned.
“I’d hardly call it a castle—it’s only five thousand square feet—but it is lovely, isn’t it?”
“Five thousand square feet,” he grumbled as he bent to pick up a box. “You could fit two of my parent’s houses in this place.”
I laughed as he disappeared from sight. I heard the front door in the foyer open and close. “Dylan? Is that you?” I called out.
“Yeah, it’s me, Goody. Where are you?”
“In the living room.”
He came around the corner—white smile shining in his dirty black face. Shrugging out of his turnout coat, he flung it over his shoulder, revealing his sweaty dark-blue department t-shirt and red suspenders on his turnout pants.
“Did you get the fire put out?”
“We did!” He grinned and quickly grabbed me to him. He kissed me hard, and the acrid scent of smoke and sweat assailed my nose.
I laughed and shoved him away. “Ugh! You reek! Go take a shower!”
“You’re supposed to hail the conquering hero,” he teasing, pulling me back against him and shimmying up and down against my body.
“What are you doing?” I cried as I tried to shove him away again, but he held onto me tightly.
“Now you’re filthy too! Shall we take a shower together?” He grinned widely. “You’ve got to have a fireman fantasy somewhere in that pretty head of yours.”
“You’re terrible!”
“I am, but you love me anyway.”
“I do,” I replied, giving in and letting him kiss me in earnest.
A groan from the doorway caused us both to glance at Russ standing there with a disgusted look on his face. “Get a room,” he griped.
“We did,” Dylan replied, sweeping his arm in arc as he gestured toward the house. “Several, in fact.”
I couldn’t help giggling as he leaned over and rubbed his dirty black nose against mine before he kissed me again.
Russ crossed the room behind us, grunting as he picked up another box. “I’m surprised the two of you don’t have a dozen kids running around already the way you’re constantly going at it.”
“A dozen?” I laughed. “Isn’t that a little extreme? We haven’t had enough time to have that many kids.”
“Besides, Cami has to finish school, and of course there’s her brilliant theater career to consider too,” Dylan smiled and lightly kissed my lips again.
“You just want to keep me to yourself a while longer, and you know it.”
“You’re right. That’s exactly what I want.” He grinned and swept me off my feet. “See ya later, Russ,” he called out as he carried me off toward the bedroom.
Russ appeared around the corner and waved as I stared over Dylan’s shoulder. “Have fun!” he said. “I’m off to find new friend
s—preferably single ones.”
Dylan and I laughed again. “Good luck,” he replied loudly to Russ. “Come back when you’re married!”
“Jerk!” Russ hollered back as we disappeared around the corner.
“We love you, Russ!” I shouted.
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Dylan and I smiled at each other again, and he kicked the bedroom door closed behind us.
I sighed as he kissed me. Life was good.
The End
About the Author:
Lacey Weatherford is the bestselling author of the popular young adult paranormal romance series, Of Witches and Warlocks, and contemporary series, Chasing Nikki. She has always had a love of books and wanted to become a writer ever since reading her first Nancy Drew novel at the age of eight.
Lacey resides in the beautiful White Mountains of Arizona. She lives with her wonderful husband and children along with their dog, Sophie, and cat, Minx. When she’s not out supporting one of her kids at their sporting/music events, she spends her time reading, writing, blogging, and visiting with her readers on her social media accounts.
Visit Lacey’s Official Website:
http://www.laceyweatherfordbooks.com
Follow on Twitter:
LMWeatherford
Or Facebook:
Lacey Weatherford
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author:
Lacey Weatherford, Smitten
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