SEAN CURSED AS he approached the Porter residence. The front gate stood wide open—not a good sign.
He glanced toward the house, but the driveway curved and large oak trees obscured the facade. He had to get closer.
He exited his vehicle, jogged to one of the columns supporting the gate and plastered his back against the brick. When his movement sparked no reaction from the house, he darted a look inside. Still no response.
In a defensive crouch, he jogged into the yard. When he rounded the first curve in the driveway, he spotted Aleta’s car parked close to the front door.
Bingo. He’d found Burnett.
The driver’s side and both rear doors stood open. He moved closer and looked inside. Blood and vomit stained the seats. What the hell had happened? A terrible rage consumed him. Was that Aleta’s blood?
Was she still alive? Was Mrs. Porter?
He refocused his thoughts. Time to report in. He needed backup.
He activated the radio on his uniform collar and alerted dispatch to the situation.
“Inform SWAT. They’re mobilized and looking for Burnett,” he said, and signed off.
Sean stared at the tile roof on the distant house. No way was he waiting. Not while Aleta and her mother were at the mercy of a sociopath.
Needing silence for what he was about to do, he turned off his radio.
He withdrew his weapon, held it in a two-handed grip and jogged back into the yard. Barrel aimed down, he darted from oak tree to oak tree, using the trunks as cover. As he approached the sliding glass doors at the rear of the Porter residence, the distinctive sound of a gunshot exploded from inside.
THE BULLET CAUGHT Bubba in the left shoulder, spun him around and knocked him off his feet. Howling, he curled into a fetal position. Aleta’s ears rang, but she could hear his anguished noises, like a wounded animal.
He placed his meaty hand over the wound. Bright red blood stained the filthy T-shirt beneath his fingers.
As if in slow motion, Aleta swiveled her head to look at her mom. She stood frozen, eyes wide, both arms outstretched holding the gun. She stared back at Aleta, her expression shocked, as if she couldn’t believe what had happened. She lowered her shaking arms.
“He’s not dead?” she demanded. “Why isn’t he dead?”
Aleta shook her head. She’d always known a single bullet couldn’t take down Bubba the Beast. The monster was down, but no way was he out.
Her mother sagged onto the sofa and hugged herself.
Bubba rolled onto his back and bellowed, a horrifying, feral sound.
Oh, God. The terrible sound forced Aleta to her feet. They didn’t have much time. They had to move, to get away from the beast before he recovered. He’d regain his strength and be crazy with anger. His injury would only make things worse. Wounded animals were even more dangerous.
He would show them no mercy.
With a wary eye on the snarling Bubba, Aleta limped toward her mom. She took the gun from her and grabbed her hand.
“Come on. We’ve got to move.”
Her mother stared at her as if dazed. “Get up, Mom.”
Her mother stood.
So did Bubba. Or he tried to anyway. Cursing, he sagged down to his knees and struggled to catch a breath.
Aleta looked down at the gun in her hand. She’d never fired a weapon in her life. Could she do it? If—no, when—he came after them, could she shoot him?
Bubba placed both hands on his head and pounded. “Stop it,” he shouted.
“My God,” her mom said, staring at Bubba. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s a lunatic. Where are your car keys? We need to get out of here.”
Her mother’s eyes cleared, as if she’d come back to herself. “In my purse.”
“Where’s your purse?”
“In my office.”
Holding each other for support, Aleta and her mother moved awkwardly from the living room into the dining room. The door to her mother’s office was down the looming hallway.
Behind them, the monster screamed. Aleta turned to look as they entered the hall, but he wasn’t there. Not yet. From the sounds of it, her personal demon now tossed furniture across the living room. She heard another sound, one she couldn’t identify.
“I’m going to kill you, Delilah,” he screamed.
When glass shattered, her mother shivered.
Aleta suspected he’d probably used his club on a window or the coffee table.
“Hurry,” her mother urged.
“Go on without me,” Aleta said. “I can’t move fast. I think I have a broken rib.”
“I won’t leave you,” her mother said.
“Go on,” Aleta said. “I’ve got the gun. I’ll use it if I have to.”
But would another bullet stop him? How many would it take? How many bullets did she have?
“No,” her mother said, pulling Aleta forward with her. “I am not leaving you to face him alone.”
Emotions swirled feverishly inside Aleta’s brain at her mother’s words, but this wasn’t the time for analysis or a tearful reunion. Not when their lives were at stake.
By the time they reached the door to the office, they heard Bubba approaching.
God, they were trapped. Even if they got her mother’s car keys, they couldn’t get past Bubba. One of them would have to shoot him, and that might not be enough.
He laughed, sounding more and more deranged. Aleta darted a look back. Blood stained his too-tight T-shirt. The snake tattoo around his neck appeared poised to strike. But he wasn’t moving fast. Maybe he couldn’t. Or maybe he thought he had all the time in the world.
They pushed inside the office and locked the door behind them. But a flimsy interior door would never keep out the beast. Aleta glanced at the windows, their only way out. To escape Bubba, they’d have to break the glass and climb out.
Did they have enough time? They needed to slow him down.
Aleta hurried to her mother’s desk. Refusing to give in to the pain, she tried to push the desk toward the door.
“Help me,” she begged her mom.
Working together, Aleta and her mom shoved her desk in front of the door. But it wasn’t enough. He’d use his club to break through and climb over the top. No time for any more barriers.
They needed help.
“Who was the man you were talking to?” Aleta asked.
“A security guard hired by your father.”
“So where is this guard?”
“He didn’t want me to let in Mr. Burnett and ran out the back door when I insisted. God only knows where he went.”
Coward. “Did you call the police?”
“I called 911. Where the hell are they?” her mom asked, her voice shaking. “They should be here by now.”
“Open the door,” Bubba shouted from the hallway.
Oh, God. The demon stood right outside the door. No time to break a window and escape. They’d have to stand their ground right here.
Aleta grabbed the gun from where she’d placed it on the desk. Guns were much heavier than she’d realized.
“You’re dead, you bitch,” Bubba bellowed. “You and your mother.”
He pounded on the door, but it sounded like only his fists for now. The club would be next. It wouldn’t take him long to break through an interior door.
“Do you have training with the gun?” Aleta asked. “Target practice?”
“Only what I needed to get a carry permit,” her mom said. “I aimed for the center of his chest, and you saw how badly I missed.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry. I really wish—”
“It’s okay,” Aleta said. She reached out to touch her mother’s arm. It had been more than eight years since she’d had any physical contact with her mother.
Mom clutched her fingers. Her hand was ice cold.
“No, it’s not okay. I can’t even hold on to the gun.” Mom held her trembling hand out in front of her, and then made a fist to stop the shakes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wanted to be strong for you, but you’ll have to do it.”
Aleta gripped the weapon tighter. She hated guns, had sworn she’d never use one.
But she had every right to shoot him. He’d even threatened her mother.
To stop him, she’d need to shoot some vital part of his body. What were the odds a novice like her could do that? The gun was so heavy she could barely hold it up.
“How many bullets?” she asked.
“There’s six in the magazine. I only shot once.”
“Then I have five bullets.”
“But it’s only a semiautomatic. It won’t keep firing when you pull the trigger.”
Aleta nodded. “I have to pull the trigger after each shot?”
“Yes. And the gun has a strong recoil. Be prepared for that. The barrel will jerk upward.”
“So I need to lower the gun and aim again each time I shoot.” Why did shooting a gun always seem so simple on TV?
Something larger and heavier than Bubba’s fists pounded on the door.
“Dear God.” Her mom stepped closer to her, her tremors so strong Aleta could feel them in her own body.
On the third whack, metal pierced through the wood. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Hide in the closet,” she told her mom. “Maybe he’ll forget about you when he’s done with me.”
Her mother met her gaze, and Aleta realized her mom’s eyes were no longer the same bright green, as if she’d faded over the years. The fragrance of her familiar perfume brought a sudden rush of memories. Pleasant memories. Of evening baths when she was a child. Of her mom reading to her at night.
She’d suppressed those memories. Why was she only allowing herself to remember now, when it was too late?
“No,” Mom said with an emphatic shake of her head. “You’re my daughter, and I won’t abandon you.”
Aleta nodded. The words “this time” hung in the air unspoken.
Listening to Bubba scream obscenities as he swung his club again and again, Aleta took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in her chest. How had it come to this? Why couldn’t he bleed to death from the gunshot her mother had fired?
She spread her legs for a stable stance and gripped the gun in front of her with both hands. She aimed the barrel at the light blue carpet and waited.
Staring at the rug, it registered that this color was also different. The old carpet had been beige. So many changes.
Aleta raised her head and waited for Bubba to smash through the door. She mouthed a familiar prayer, one that had always comforted her, even in the darkest hours of her time in rehab. Unwanted, the words of a commandment filtered into her thoughts.
Thou shalt not kill.
No. It shouldn’t count as murder. She didn’t want to kill him, just stop him. This was self-defense. Plus, she’d seen him shoot two young men in cold blood simply because he didn’t want to pay for drugs.
Why should shooting him bother her so much? An hour ago she’d been willing to crash her car into a wall and kill them both.
She didn’t want to die. And now her mom’s life was at stake.
The hole in the door grew larger. Bubba pressed his face into the opening. “I’m coming for you, Delilah,” he taunted.
She raised the gun and fired. The bullet slammed into the threshold, to the right of where she’d aimed. The recoil forced her arm upward and wrenched her shoulder. Pain shot through her injured side.
Bubba laughed like a maniac.
“Bitch,” he shouted, and began smashing again.
She tightened her grip on the weapon and made a mental correction on her aim. Next time she wouldn’t miss.
STANDING AT THE rear of the Porter home on a concrete patio by sliding glass doors, Sean heard bellows of insane fury from inside the house.
Burnett. Something hadn’t gone his way.
Maybe that meant Aleta and her mom were still alive. But for how long?
While the monster raged, Sean raised his weapon and fired at the lock on the sliders. It took five bullets, but the lock finally gave way. He stepped to the side and rammed in a new magazine.
No reaction from inside.
He slid open the door as quietly as possible. Still no response. He stepped into the house. Close by, the beast continued to shout obscenities and threats against “Delilah,” Aleta’s old gang name. From the sound of it, Burnett was attempting to smash through something.
Where was Aleta?
His weapon ready, Sean crept closer. In the living room, blood stained the carpet. Whose? A chair had been tossed onto its side, and a glass table smashed into bits.
Sean avoided crunching the shards of glass as best he could and continued toward the bellowing lunatic. Following the noise, he moved through the dining room toward the hallway that led to Mrs. Porter’s office. The office where he’d watched the surveillance video.
“I’m coming for you, Delilah,” Burnett shouted.
A gunshot rang through the house.
Sean froze, but no screams of pain followed the shot. Whoever had fired missed.
His back to the wall, Sean darted a look down the hallway.
Holding a metal shaft like a baseball bat, Burnett swung his weapon into Mrs. Porter’s office door over and over again. He’d made an opening almost large enough for him to squeeze through. He didn’t have a gun. The shot must have come from Aleta and her mom.
And they were trapped inside the office.
Burnett made so much noise and remained so focused on smashing the door that he didn’t notice Sean’s approach.
Raising his firearm, Sean stepped into the hallway. “Police,” he shouted. “Drop your weapon.”
Burnett turned toward him, his club raised for his next strike. A gleeful look traveled across his face. With a crazed shout, he gripped his club with both hands and rushed at Sean.
Sean emptied his weapon into the center mass of the beast.
“POLICE. DROP YOUR WEAPON.”
At the sound of Sean’s commanding voice, Aleta lowered the gun and choked back a relieved sob. He hadn’t forgotten her. He’d come. He’d found her.
With a snarl, Bubba turned away from the splintered door. She fired into the opening, but Sean fired quicker.
The wounded beast dropped out of sight.
And then there was only silence. Aleta closed her eyes and sent a prayer heavenward. She didn’t care if it was wrong to pray for someone to die. She wanted Bubba to be dead.
Her mom threw her arms around her and hugged tightly. Aleta winced at the pain in her ribs, but buried her head in her mom’s neck, breathing in the sweet perfume she had once loved so much. And now maybe she could again.
“Aleta?” Sean shouted.
“We’re okay,” Aleta whispered. She didn’t have the energy to shout.
“Aleta? Damn it. Answer me.”
Her mom raised her head. “We’re okay,” she yelled. “We’re in my office.”
Sean appeared in the opening Bubba had made in the door. He was wearing a police uniform. She’d never seen him in uniform.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, his gaze sweeping her.
“No, she’s not all right,” her mom said.
“I’m alive,” Aleta said.
His focus dropped to the desk in front of the door. He nodded. “Good work.”
“Is he dead?” Aleta asked.
“Yes.”
“Thank God,” her mother said. “Thank God.”
“Actually,” Aleta said, meeting Sean’s intense blue gaze, “I think we can thank Officer O’Malley.”
She became aware of sirens approaching fast, and realized the wailing sound had been in the background for no telling how long. She’d been too terrified to notice.
His gaze still locked on her, Sean activated a device on his uniform and barked a series of numbers.
She wanted to see Bubba’s body. No, she needed to see the body. Bubba had terrorized her for so long, her brain refused to accept that he was truly gone. She stepped forward to take a look, but the desk was in the way. It would hurt too much to crawl up on top.
She gazed through the opening at Sean. She wanted to see Bubba, but she also wanted Sean to hold her. She wanted to climb into his strong, protective arms and never let him go.
She pushed on the desk. The resulting pain in her side prevented a second try, but someone needed to get this stupid desk out of the way.
Her mother stepped forward and put an arm around her.
Sean’s phone sounded. “O’Malley,” Sean answered after checking the caller. After a pause he said, “Yes, sir. That’s correct, sir. We’re all clear. You can breach.”
He turned to face her again when he quit speaking. “A lot of police are outside. They’ll be coming in.”
“Took them long enough,” Mrs. Porter said.
“Are you certain he’s dead?” Aleta begged.
Sean turned to look down the hallway again. His expression became grim.
Meeting her gaze again, he said, “I promise he’ll never bother you again.”
Aleta nodded. But she knew the memory of this horrible man would remain with her forever. That would be his sick legacy. He might be dead, but could she ever get past how he had impacted her life?
“I want to see him,” Aleta said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Before she could reply, a noise that sounded as if the front door had burst open caused all three of them to look in that direction. Suddenly the hallway where Sean stood became full of police officers.
“Officer O’Malley,” one barked.
“Sergeant,” Sean responded with a nod.
She watched Sean hand the cop his weapon. She narrowed her eyes in confusion, wondering what that meant. Must be because he’d shot Bubba.
She and her mom stepped back as several men forced the damaged door open. They pushed the desk out of the way and entered the office.
Aleta wanted to go to Sean, to collapse into his arms. But a young woman in a uniform appeared next to her and gently removed the gun from her hand. Startled, Aleta released the weapon. She hadn’t realized she was still clutching it.
“Why don’t you sit down,” the woman urged.
Ignoring her, Aleta watched a group of cops surround Sean. Why didn’t they look friendly? In fact, everyone appeared furious with the hero who had saved her life. And her mom’s life. What was going on? She heard someone mention the Posse.
“My name is Linda,” the woman said in a soothing tone. “I’m a paramedic. Is it okay if I check you out?”
“Check out my mother first,” Aleta said.
“I’m fine,” Mom said. “You’re the one with a broken rib.”
The cops led Sean away. Where were they going? Aleta limped to the door and leaned against the threshold to see. She gasped.
Bubba’s uncovered body sprawled faceup in the hallway. Half his chest was missing. Blood splatter covered the walls.
She swallowed hard. Well, she’d wanted confirmation he was dead. She raised her gaze to Sean’s back.
“Sean,” she called out. “Wait.”
He looked back. Why did he look so sad? All she wanted was for him to hold her.
“You need to let the paramedic check you out, ma’am,” the cop Sean had called “sergeant” said.
“Where are you taking him?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about Officer O’Malley, ma’am,” the sergeant said.
Not liking the man’s tone, she said, “But I need to thank him for saving my life.”
“That’s not necessary,” he said, obviously wanting rid of her. This jerk of a sergeant, probably Sean’s boss, wasn’t as sympathetic as the paramedic.
She looked at Sean. “I need to talk to you about Cyrus.”
“Cyrus is fine,” Sean told her. “I’ve been informed he’s in county lockup with other members of the Posse.”
“What? How? What happened?”
“Rios,” the sergeant barked.
The paramedic appeared at her side.
“I need you to complete your assessment of Ms. Porter.”
“Let her examine you, Aleta,” Sean urged. “Please.”
Linda led her back into the office where her mom waited. When Mom patted her on the back, Aleta grasped her fingers and held on.
Where were they taking Sean? It appeared as if he was in trouble. But why? She wanted to go after them, but she barely had the strength to speak much less follow anyone.
“Tell me where it hurts, ma’am,” Linda said in a calm voice, urging her into a chair.
“When I take a deep breath.” Aleta collapsed into the chair and wondered if she could ever get up again.
“What did that monster do to you?” her mom asked.
“Slammed me against my car a couple of times,” Aleta said, as Linda wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. “Whacked my head with his club. Threw me to the ground.”
“You’ll need to be transported to the hospital to get an X-ray,” Linda said.
Loud voices came from the direction of the living room as Linda listened to her chest with a stethoscope. Aleta tried to understand but couldn’t. All she knew was the tone of the conversation wasn’t friendly and Sean was objecting to something.
“What’s going on out there?” Aleta asked.
“Police business.” Linda shrugged. “I work for the fire department.”
“It sounds like Sean is in trouble,” Aleta said. “Why?”
“Sean?”
“Officer O’Malley. The cop who saved us.”
“So you know him?” Linda asked.
“Yes. And I need to talk to him.”
“How do you know Officer O’Malley?” her mom asked.
Aleta glanced at her mother, opened her mouth to answer, but couldn’t figure out how to describe her relationship to Sean. Had he said anything to her when they met?
“Oh. So it’s like that,” Linda said with a knowing grin. She glanced toward the sound of the voices. “Better wait. I think he’s pretty busy right now. Sounds like he’s fighting for his job.”
“His job?” Aleta stared at Linda. “But he saved my life. My mother’s life. Why is his job in jeopardy?”
“From what I understand, he disobeyed a direct order.”
“Well, thank God he did,” her mom muttered.
Aleta shook her head, not understanding how this could be happening. Sean was in trouble for trying to save her? He’d put his job as a cop in jeopardy for her.
She tried to rise, but her mother wouldn’t let her.
“I need to talk to his boss,” Aleta said.
“That’s probably not a good idea,” Linda said.
“Please. I need to explain.”
“My advice is to wait. Let things settle,” Linda said. “They took his gun, so he’s relieved of duty at least temporarily.”
Relieved of duty? No, no.
“That’s protocol after a shooting,” Linda said.
Another paramedic appeared in the doorway. “Can she ambulate?” he asked. “There’s not enough room to roll the gurney down the hallway because of the body.”
And they couldn’t move the body yet. They had to wait for forensics and a medical examiner.
“Can you walk, ma’am?” Linda said.
“Sure,” Aleta murmured.
Her mother helped Aleta to her feet.
“Is there a back way out?” the new guy asked. “Cops don’t want us disturbing the scene.”
“Through the garage,” Aleta’s mom said.
With Linda following, they walked into the hallway where Bubba’s giant body still lay uncovered.
Her mother gasped and squeezed her hand. “Don’t look at him.”
But Aleta couldn’t look away. Yes, the beast was dead. She should be elated. The threat looming over her life for so long was finally over.
And, strangely, she’d somehow reconciled with her mother because of it. This should be a good day. Why did it feel like a total disaster?
Because Sean loved his job. He lived to be a cop. Because of her, he could lose what he loved so much. What he was so good at. She choked back a sob.
Once outside the garage, Mom helped her onto the gurney. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”
“Will it?” Aleta said, blinking back tears.
How could Sean ever forgive her?
How could she ever forgive herself?