Jazzy Girl Page 5

  “I knew it had to be after nine since it’s dark outside,” Canden said. He now stood by the other couch and peered out the blinds.

  Jazz tap-danced on the kitchen tile to make herself more clear.

  “Sorry, girl. Let’s go potty.”

  “Hurry up,” Canden said, “so you can go brush your teeth.” Mischief danced in his eyes.

  Sherice slid open the door in the kitchen and Jazz dashed outside, ears flopping. Sherice leaned against the open door waiting so she could call Jazz back in as soon as she finished, but Jazz took so long the motion lights went off. When Jazz turned to trot back in, she froze and growled. Sherice didn’t have time to process why Jazz growled. The motion lights came followed by a popping sound right as something whizzed by her face and struck the house.

  A bullet.

  “Jazz!” Sherice screamed. “Come!”

  Asha?” Canden jumped up off the couch and ran into the kitchen.

  Jazz turned her head toward Sherice before another pop sounded and Jazz’s body slumped to the ground.

  “No!” Sherice lunged forward but was snapped back, thudding hard against Canden’s chest. She thrashed as he pushed her back with one hand and slid the door closed with the other. He forced her into the living room and pressed her against the wall that separated it from the kitchen.

  “Asha!” he hissed in her ear placing one hand over her mouth.

  Sherice trembled as tears rolled down her cheeks to Canden’s hand. Seeing Jazz lying there undid her. Why would she have let her go out alone? And at night when she should have been the most guarded? She failed and her beloved Jazz paid the price.

  Why her, God? Why Jazz?

  Sherice sucked in some air when Canden uncovered her mouth. Another pop blasted and a bullet struck the house. She heard the thud but whatever gun they used had silencers. No ringing sounds of gunshots. Just like the day she’d ran into Giovanni.

  “Where’s your gun?”

  She only nodded. All of the careful control she’d exhibited since going into the program left her. She couldn’t think.

  “Where is it, Asha?” Canden shook her by the shoulders.

  Placing her hand on her forehead, she tried to think. She’d been wearing it in her holster. But she’d taken it off and put it on the coffee table. When she came in to get the drinks, she’d . . .”

  “The kitchen,” she breathed. “In the drawer.”

  Canden squeezed his eyes shut and put his fist to his forehead.

  “Okay,” he said. “Wait here.” He moved to the edge of the wall where the opening to the kitchen began and looked in.”

  “Which drawer?”

  “The one closest to the sliding door.”

  Canden sighed. “Of course, it is.”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  He didn’t say anything. He lowered his belly to the ground and slithered around the opening, and down the length of the wall in the kitchen. His socks slid soundlessly with him. When he reached the fridge, he got on his feet but stayed low and duck-walked to the drawer. He slid it open and reached in as the entire glass door shattered into a million pieces.

  Canden launched himself backward protecting his face with one hand and holding the gun with the other.

  Sherice dropped to the floor and army crawled to him, barely feeling it when she cut her foot on a piece of glass in the process.

  “What are you doing?” He glared at her. “I told you to stay in there.”

  Sherice noted the small cuts on his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. Canden held the gun in a way that told her he knew how to use it. Dare she go for her backup piece buried in her bedroom closet? No, she decided. She couldn’t risk it.

  Expecting a form to darken the doorway where her sliding door had been, she tried to be ready. She could see Jazz’s lifeless body just lying there and she wanted to go to her. The motion lights went off.

  Good.

  Anger replaced the panic inside of her. Whoever had come here was evil and they’d hurt the only one who’d been with her though the loneliness.

  God. Help me.

  It was all she could manage. She wanted to hurt whoever hurt Jazz in the same way they’d hurt her.

  “Asha?” Canden’s concerned voice broke through her thoughts.

  “My name is Sherice.” If she died today, she wanted one person to know her name. Her real name. Canden might not love her, but at least he liked her. Or did.

  Canden stared at her.

  “Whoever is out there wants to kill me. I’d rather they kill me than take me alive. I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this.”

  “Whatever happens,” Canden said, “no one is going to hurt you.”

  Sherice met his eyes. Canden meant what he said, but he had no idea who he was dealing with.

  “Listen to me, Asha . . . Sherice.”

  A distant part of her relished being called by her given name.

  “There is only one person actively shooting. All the shots have come from the same direction.” Canden didn’t stop scanning the area as he spoke. “Where’s your phone?” he asked without looking at her.

  She tried to think, but then looked at her hands. She still held her phone.

  “Right here!” she whispered loudly.

  Canden gave her a strange look.

  “You mind calling the police?”

  Sherice knew what this call would do and it was unavoidable. She dialed 9-1-1.

  “911. What is your emergency?”

  Sherice didn’t get to answer. Something struck her from behind and she fell forward into Canden and the world fell into a frame-by-frame play.

  Canden wrapped one arm around her and dragged her entire body down around his, placing her at his back as he pulled the trigger. Her gun had no suppressor and for an undesignated number of seconds that stretched on for eternity, she couldn’t hear anything over the steady ringing in her ears. She wondered if her neighbors heard it and then wondered why she cared if they did. She craned her neck in time to see the man fall.

  The intruder fired three shots as he went down. The man wore a gray pair of jogging pants and a white T-shirt. He looked like anybody’s dad, brother, or uncle. He thudded to the floor and closed his eyes. It bothered her she didn’t feel sorrow for him in that instant. She should. Shouldn’t she?

  Canden stood and pulled her to her feet, but she stumbled.

  “Are you okay?” his voice frantic. In the chaos the kitchen light was shot out, the room dark.

  “They came in the front somehow.”

  “I know,” he said.

  She backed up toward the opening where the sliding door had been.

  “Don’t go out there,” he warned.

  “Jazz.” She turned and took a step, but a massive pain in her thigh caused her to stumble.

  “You’ve been hit!” Canden said.

  “Just a graze. Don’t worry.”

  “A graze with that much blood?”

  Just as she reached the edge of the counter, the motion lights came on prematurely.

  A man appeared from the left side of the house and leaped toward her. Without a thought in her head, Sherice spun into a roundhouse kick, her foot made contact in the middle of his chest as a shot rang out. Sherice saw the bullet penetrate his shirt as the man flew several feet backward and landed on the grass. Sherice stood in the doorway.

  The man grunted and grabbed his chest. He scrambled to stand. Face contorted from pain, he stumbled toward her, still holding his gun. With great effort, he pointed it at her.

  This is like a bad movie.

  She heard a click. Canden had pulled the trigger again, but it didn’t fire. The man began to lift his hand and Canden yelled for her to move.

  Sherice grabbed the cactus off the counter and launched it at the man’s face. Screaming, he released his gun. It clattered to the floor. Sirens joined him in the distance. She ran to the gun and kicked it away from him. Dots of blood stained the concrete with each step.

>   She picked her cell phone up. It was still connected.

  “Hello,” she said. “Yes, we’re okay. The police are here. I’ll explain everything to them.”

  “And me, please,” Canden said. He bent over and placed his hands on his knees.

  “Are you okay?” She went to him.

  “I will be. You?”

  “I don’t feel too hot.”

  As the officers moved through the doorway, a wave of dizziness hit Sherice and she stumbled. The last thing she remembered was Canden grabbing her arm.

  * * *

  Sherice’s eyes fluttered open.

  “There you go,” a soft voice said to her.

  When her vision cleared, she saw an older lady standing over her. Elderly actually, but wearing a nurse’s uniform.

  “What happened?”

  “You lost a little too much blood from a gunshot wound and passed out.”

  “Oh,” was all Sherice said as she tried to sit up. Without thinking she used her heels to push her back and moaned.

  “Take it easy, Miss Asha.” The nurse patted her arm.

  “I’m surprised it hurts so much. It just grazed me.”

  “Not exactly,” the nurse said.

  This lady appeared old enough to be a grandmother a few times over. Sherice respected her service.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a flesh wound.” The nurse pulled back the sheet. When Sherice saw the stitches her eyebrows shot up. “Entered there and out there.” The nurse pointed.

  “How did I not know that?”

  “Adrenaline,” the nurse said. “You’re a blessed girl. It didn’t hit anything vital but it got your muscle so you’ll be feeling it for a bit. It just wasn’t your time.”

  Sherice faked a smile.

  “Guess not.”

  When the nurse left the room with promises of returning with food, Sherice closed her eyes and breathed deeply. What would she do? Nothing in her desired to start over again. The thought of moving again made her stomach feel even worse. And going without her Jazzy Girl? A lump formed in her throat and her eyes instantly filled. A sob threatened but she held it in. Her body shook in response and she couldn’t stop the flow of tears. The one thing she could be thankful for was that Jazz didn’t suffer.

  And Canden. She pulled him into something that could get him killed.

  I’m selfish and stupid.

  The two guys at her house were dead. Weren’t they? The one for sure, but what about the second guy? If she could keep Canden’s name out of the news, he’d be safe as long as she disappeared.

  But he sure seemed to know what he was doing. He’d certainly handled a weapon before. Her blood ran cold and she shivered. It made too much sense. He showed up right before everything went crazy.

  Why did I tell him my real name?

  But it didn’t matter. He’d already known her real name.

  No, he didn’t. If he’d been involved, he would have let her die.

  Be rational, Sherice!

  Sighing, she laid back and prayed.

  Chapter 6

  The next four hours consisted of eating, sleeping, and visiting with a couple of detectives who took her statement. Shortly after, the doctor who’d treated her gave her the rundown of what to expect recovery wise. It boiled down to the fact she’d feel like crap for a few days, possibly longer.

  Normally, her anxiety would be through the roof. Instead, she could only decide to trust God. In the end, she knew nothing else would do any good. After all she’d faced since the day she’d watched Giovanni kill two people in front of her, this part was doable. She might hate every minute of it, but she would do it. Besides, she wouldn’t die until God said so. One thing was for sure, wherever she ended up this time, she would stay. It would be her last time starting over no matter what.

  When a nurse came in to announce she had a visitor named Canden in the waiting room, her stomach clenched.

  “No visitors,” she said with a stern tone. The nurse didn’t argue.

  Once the door closed completely, Sherice picked up the phone.

  “I need you to pick me up at Laurent-Vail Hospital, but I also need something else.”

  Her contact said she’d do what she could to keep Canden’s name out of the news, but there was no guarantee if the info had already circulated. A car would be waiting when she was released. She wouldn’t even go home one last time. Not even to pack a bag. No good-byes. It didn’t matter anymore. She couldn’t endanger Canden and her Jazzy Girl was gone. She would have liked to bury her, but leaving immediately was for the best.

  “I’d like to be YRU’d,” she said. Code for removed from the country.

  Her contact agreed the move was for the best.

  “I need everything. All I have is what I’m wearing.”

  When she asked how Vito’s men found her, she learned it all led back to the house egging. Not in the way she originally thought, though. The egging had not been a warning, but the cop, Officer Landrum, worked under Giovanni Bucano. Apparently, Bucano had widely distributed her photo to all Vito’s minions, along with an offer for a large reward in the millions to anyone who led him to her capture. The impressive reward guaranteed that every low-life employee of his would memorize her face.

  When she hung up the phone, numbness stretched over her. Survival mode helped her cope.

  “It’s for the best,” she said to no one and closed her eyes. She focused on trying to be grateful she was alive even though she felt dead. She prayed for purpose.

  Another two hours passed before she was released. An unspeakable sadness enveloped her and she took a deep breath.

  “Lord, help me be strong,” she whispered under her breath as a nurse pushed her through the double doors of the ER into the waiting room slash lobby. Standing, she headed directly for the big revolving door that would spin her out to a stranger in a car with tinted windows who would drive her to the airport. She’d live in yet another place as another person. No one would ever know the real her.

  “Sherice.”

  She froze, immediately recognizing the voice.

  Without turning around and in a low voice she said, “Good-bye, Canden. I have to go.” If she looked at him, she might crack and break into a million pieces, so instead, she kept moving toward the door.

  The sound of a whimper stopped her heart and she froze. Tears sprung to her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  It’s not Jazz.

  She couldn’t look. It couldn’t be Jazz. Her big girl was gone.

  Sherice wanted to move . . . to run out the door, but her legs wouldn’t move. It was like she was trapped in quicksand.

  “Whatever it is, you don’t have to keep running.”

  “You’ve no idea what you’re saying.”

  “Yes, I do. I haven’t always been a carpenter.”

  Sherice’s mind splintered. A part of her wanted to ask what he meant by that, but she couldn’t.

  Another whimper followed by an impatient pant sounded. Held captive by her emotions, she wanted to just spin around and prove to herself it wasn’t Jazz, but she couldn’t make herself. In stuttered slowness, she turned her head to look over her shoulder. The fierce ache in her chest made breathing difficult.

  When her eyes met Jazz’s, everything that held her together came apart. A sob burst from her and her knees buckled. Canden let go of the leash and Jazz charged her knocking her all the way down. She barely registered hearing Canden tell someone she was okay and no help was needed.

  Sherice wrapped her arms around her big girl who wiggled wildly. There was no stopping the tears. Jazz licked them off her face with happy doggie kisses.

  Jazz’s shoulder was bandaged and she wore a vest that said, “SERVICE ANIMAL-DO NOT PET.”

  Sherice looked up at him. “How?” was all she could manage.

  “Right after you were carried off, people started to pour in. I wanted to go to the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me go yet.”<
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  “No. Tell me about Jazz first.” She looked down at Jazz who now leaned against her calmly.

  Hearing her name, Jazz tilted her head back and licked Sherice on the top of her nose, which drew a giggle from her. Sherice silently thanked God a million times over for another miracle.

  Apparently, when the crime-scene photographer took photos of Jazz, she noticed a paw twitch and a few seconds later Jazz’s eyes opened. The gal yelled for help and they looked her over. She’d been struck in the shoulder.”

  Sherice looked at Jazz in amazement.

  “Once I could leave I took her to the emergency vet. They were baffled. The bullet was just sitting there in the fleshy part of her shoulder. There was no indication it had even reached the bone. They extracted the bullet, stitched her up, and gave her something for pain. She has a pretty good goose egg on her head, though. When she went down, she hit her head on one of your walking stones and that’s why she was knocked out.”

  Sherice’s smile spread across her face.

  “Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  “What’s with the harness?”

  “Oh, that.” Canden’s ears reddened. “That was hanging in the vet’s office. I will return it, but I knew it would help me get her in here.”

  “You stole it?” Sherice’s eyes rounded.

  “Shhh . . . I borrowed it. I’m giving it back.”

  Sherice realized the receptionist and several waiting patients were watching them with much interest. She reached up and Canden helped her to her feet. She swayed and Canden helped her sit in a nearby chair.

  “Sit, beautiful girl.” Sherice ran her head over Jazz’s head as she planted herself next to Sherice’s calf. “God is too good to me, but I’m so glad.”

  Canden knelt beside her. “Come home with me.”

  Her phone rang. “You’d be in danger.”

  “I’ll be fine. God’s got us. We can work all this out.”

  “A car is waiting for me, Canden.” Sherice took Jazz’s leash. “I have to go.”

  Canden’s head drooped and he sighed.

  “I know we just met, but somehow I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. It’s okay to say you don’t feel the same, Sherice. You can be honest.” Canden put one hand under her chin and turned her face, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Look at me and tell me you don’t think God set us up. Who has a story anything like ours?”