I’d just been arrested for fighting—”
“A justified fight, according to my dad. You were protecting some little kid.”
“No. That’s what you don’t get. I hurt that boy more than I had to. I had rage in
me just like the rage I always saw in my father. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.
I got off on a technicality. Your mother asked me to do the right thing for you, and
I did. I left. I would have done anything for you to have the future you deserved.
Even if that meant hurting you. And myself.” He stared out the car window, his gaze
focused on something in the distance.
He’d left to protect her? Not because he didn’t love her? “It’s too late to change
our past.” She took a calming breath in an effort to steady her emotions. What did
all of this mean? How was anything different now?
“You’re right. It is.”
“So after you came back from Afghanistan, and after I called you, why didn’t you—”
Logan held up a hand and leaned forward, his attention caught by something outside.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I don’t like the looks of that.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, straining to follow his line of vision.
“Two dudes in that car.” He pointed with his chin to a parked beige Mercedes. “Been
sitting there for a while.” He picked up his cell phone. “I need to call in the plates
and check it out.”
Before she had the chance to comment, Margaret walked out of Ben’s place. She picked
up her umbrella, patted Jalissa on the head, and turned to go to her house.
The door of the Mercedes opened and the interior light flashed, drawing Keely’s attention
away from the elderly lady.
Keely leaned forward to get a better view though the rain-soaked windshield.
One of the occupants got out of the car, a teenager wearing a ball cap, and pointed
something at Margaret.
A gun.
Fear ripped through Keely’s whole body. Oh my God!
Logan tossed his phone aside, bolted from his seat, and crouched behind the open door,
gun in hand.
“Police! Drop your weapon! Mrs. Beyer, get down!” Logan bellowed. “Jalissa, go inside.
Drop your weapon now .” Logan pointed his gun at the man brandishing the weapon.
Keely’s pulse rocketed. She had to do something! She threw open the car door, slid
out, and pulled out her cell phone, using the door to hide behind. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening . But it was. Pelts of rain stung her eyes. But she could see Margaret frozen in her
spot, and her eyes wide and terrified.
“Mrs. Beyer, get on the ground,” Logan repeated, his gun trained on the kid in the
hat.
Keely dialed 911 with shaking fingers. Her breath came in short gasps.
The operator answered, “911, what is your emergency?”
Two deafening explosions, like fireworks, pierced the air.
Margaret’s eyes and mouth opened wide, then she slammed back into the brick of her
house and crumbled to the ground.
Oh God, no .
Chapter Eight
Keely fought back a wave of nausea. Margaret had been shot! Before Keely could answer
the 911 operator, the gunman whirled to face Logan. For a terrifying second, she thought
he would be next. A scream lodged in her throat when she noticed Jalissa still standing
in front of her stoop.
If Logan or the gunman fired his weapon, the girl could get caught in the crossfire.
“Someone’s been shot,” Keely shouted into the phone. She rattled off the address.
From her father’s row house, Peterson opened the front door, gun aimed at the kid
in the ball cap. “Police! Drop your weapon!”
The gunman turned, aimed at Peterson, and Peterson fired. The boy’s face contorted.
He dropped his gun, staggered, and fell backward onto the pavement. His body twitched,
and Keely’s stomach twisted.
“Driver, put your hands up. Hands up, now!” Logan trained his gun on the driver of
the Mercedes. Neighbors rushed to windows and eased out of front doors. Jalissa’s
moth er whisked her inside
“A justified fight, according to my dad. You were protecting some little kid.”
“No. That’s what you don’t get. I hurt that boy more than I had to. I had rage in
me just like the rage I always saw in my father. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.
I got off on a technicality. Your mother asked me to do the right thing for you, and
I did. I left. I would have done anything for you to have the future you deserved.
Even if that meant hurting you. And myself.” He stared out the car window, his gaze
focused on something in the distance.
He’d left to protect her? Not because he didn’t love her? “It’s too late to change
our past.” She took a calming breath in an effort to steady her emotions. What did
all of this mean? How was anything different now?
“You’re right. It is.”
“So after you came back from Afghanistan, and after I called you, why didn’t you—”
Logan held up a hand and leaned forward, his attention caught by something outside.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I don’t like the looks of that.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, straining to follow his line of vision.
“Two dudes in that car.” He pointed with his chin to a parked beige Mercedes. “Been
sitting there for a while.” He picked up his cell phone. “I need to call in the plates
and check it out.”
Before she had the chance to comment, Margaret walked out of Ben’s place. She picked
up her umbrella, patted Jalissa on the head, and turned to go to her house.
The door of the Mercedes opened and the interior light flashed, drawing Keely’s attention
away from the elderly lady.
Keely leaned forward to get a better view though the rain-soaked windshield.
One of the occupants got out of the car, a teenager wearing a ball cap, and pointed
something at Margaret.
A gun.
Fear ripped through Keely’s whole body. Oh my God!
Logan tossed his phone aside, bolted from his seat, and crouched behind the open door,
gun in hand.
“Police! Drop your weapon! Mrs. Beyer, get down!” Logan bellowed. “Jalissa, go inside.
Drop your weapon now .” Logan pointed his gun at the man brandishing the weapon.
Keely’s pulse rocketed. She had to do something! She threw open the car door, slid
out, and pulled out her cell phone, using the door to hide behind. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening . But it was. Pelts of rain stung her eyes. But she could see Margaret frozen in her
spot, and her eyes wide and terrified.
“Mrs. Beyer, get on the ground,” Logan repeated, his gun trained on the kid in the
hat.
Keely dialed 911 with shaking fingers. Her breath came in short gasps.
The operator answered, “911, what is your emergency?”
Two deafening explosions, like fireworks, pierced the air.
Margaret’s eyes and mouth opened wide, then she slammed back into the brick of her
house and crumbled to the ground.
Oh God, no .
Chapter Eight
Keely fought back a wave of nausea. Margaret had been shot! Before Keely could answer
the 911 operator, the gunman whirled to face Logan. For a terrifying second, she thought
he would be next. A scream lodged in her throat when she noticed Jalissa still standing
in front of her stoop.
If Logan or the gunman fired his weapon, the girl could get caught in the crossfire.
“Someone’s been shot,” Keely shouted into the phone. She rattled off the address.
From her father’s row house, Peterson opened the front door, gun aimed at the kid
in the ball cap. “Police! Drop your weapon!”
The gunman turned, aimed at Peterson, and Peterson fired. The boy’s face contorted.
He dropped his gun, staggered, and fell backward onto the pavement. His body twitched,
and Keely’s stomach twisted.
“Driver, put your hands up. Hands up, now!” Logan trained his gun on the driver of
the Mercedes. Neighbors rushed to windows and eased out of front doors. Jalissa’s
moth er whisked her inside
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