We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek Book 11) Page 33

  Allen grabbed the door to the waiting room and threw it open.

  He stepped inside.

  114

  Jake bit back a curse when Jacobson disappeared through the metal doors. All Jake knew was that he was halfway to the TSP when a call had gone out that there was something going on at FCGH.

  He’d been the closest.

  Just his luck to be first on scene.

  To see Jacobson in the middle of everything. Of course. It was always that guy. “What’s going on?”

  He looked at the head of security. They’d met before; the guy’s son was on Jake’s team.

  “Wallace Henedy has your niece and his wife in the waiting room. He has a revolver. His wife is covered with blood.”

  Jake’s blood ran cold. Now, he understood what Jacobson was doing.

  He was steps behind Jacobson.

  In time to see the man enter one more door.

  And then he heard a scream.

  Followed by a gunshot.

  Jake swore and moved.

  He caught the door before it could shut and lock electronically at the very last minute.

  He lowered himself in a crouch, weapon in hand, and evaluated the situation—even though his heart was pounding hard enough to break his own damned teeth.

  Izzie.

  115

  Wallace raised the gun and fired again. Just once. Enough to have Allen freezing in his tracks. There was a wild look in the younger man’s eyes. Wallace understood. He held out one hand. “I’m not going to hurt her, Allen. But you need to stop moving. Stay right where you are.”

  “Is everyone ok in here?” Allen asked. He practically devoured Izzie with his eyes. Drawn to her. “Tell me that. Izzie?”

  She nodded. Her eyes…she adored Allen, too. It was right there for them all to see. It was too late. She’d fallen for the younger man completely.

  Maybe that was ok. Maybe the two of them were good for each other. Allen would definitely take care of her, at least. Protect her from the harsh world they lived in. He’d be her hero.

  Like Wallace had once been with his Jenny. He risked a look toward her.

  She’d perched on the edge of the chair, her body language shouting her anger.

  At him. Wallace looked back at Allen, a man he’d always respected. No. Allen would never deliberately hurt little Izzie. “We’re fine. No one’s going to move. We’re going to clear the air here. Then…then I’ll finish what needs finished.”

  “What is that?”

  “A mess I made twenty-five years ago. Thirty-five, really.” Wallace looked at Jennifer. “We probably never should have married. I’m not…proud…of the things we’ve done. I’ve hurt people. So have you. I…don’t you think we should stop now?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…you’ve gone off the deep end now. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to clean things up the way I should have before. When I first realized…”

  “Realized what? That you can’t keep it in your pants. Please.”

  Her disgust was so…tangible.

  “When I realized what you did to Miranda. When you killed her and buried her body near the cabin. I…know what you did.”

  She paled. “You knew? All along?”

  “Yes. I watched you. I saw the whole thing. I saw you smother her with your own pillow. I watched you bury her in the woods. I should have stopped you after that. I…but I couldn’t. I killed Miranda, as sure as you did. Because she wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

  “No kidding. Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done for you and the children. All of them. But this…you’ve really fucked up now, Wallace. Ruined everything for me. Thanks for that. I hope this little whore was worth it,” Jennifer said coldly. She didn’t care. She had no regrets about killing Miranda.

  He was driven mad by his own regrets and she didn’t care at all.

  “You would have had Izzie killed tonight and not even cared one bit. Even though that child has never hurt either of us,” he said slowly, fingers flexing on the handle of the gun. It was unfathomable. She was a mother herself. How could she ever…

  No. He had so hoped it wasn’t like that. She’d been so loving with the boys, with him. For years. But it was all an act. A show. “Anyone else who got in your way. It’s you that’s the monster, not me.”

  “Wrong. We’re both the monster. What are you going to do now?”

  “What I should have done a long time ago. Clean up your own messes, Jennifer.”

  Wallace raised the gun. He had three more bullets left. That would be more than enough for what he had to do now. The door swung open.

  Wallace squeezed the trigger. Ended it for her once and for all, as a heavy weight slammed into him from behind and he fell forward.

  The last sound he heard was little Lizzie’s scream.

  And Jennifer crying out his name.

  Oh, Jenny, what have we become?

  116

  Jennifer crawled to him. His blood…it had splattered on the wall. On her. On the nurse. Everywhere.

  No, not Wallace. Why had he done this? She never would have thought he’d do this to himself. Even to get back at her.

  Someone grabbed her and yanked her out of the way. Strong hands.

  Allen Jacobson leaned over her husband. He cursed. “He’s still alive. I need help in here!”

  The nurse fell to her knees, next to him, even though there was fresh blood welling on her arm above the black cast she wore. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Something to press against the wounds until we can get him on a table with a team.”

  They were…treating Wallace. Like they actually gave a damn what happened to him. Like anyone besides her and her son did.

  Another man rushed in and jumped over Wallace’s legs. He knelt down across from Dr. Jacobson.

  Then another. Coming toward the nurse.

  Jennifer barely even noticed.

  Jennifer wanted to hold Wallace one more time. He was…dying. She wanted her arms around him one more time.

  She couldn’t do that. Not now.

  Not with what he’d told them. It was only a matter of time before the TSP came for her.

  Jennifer gave her husband one last farewell look. She just…

  She would always love Wallace Henedy.

  No matter what he did.

  Or she did.

  She had to get out of there. Find Reggie. Tell him. Tell him she was so sorry.

  Hard hands landed on her shoulders. Pulled her away from her husband.

  Her eyes met Jake MacNamara’s, and she knew.

  He was going to be trouble she didn’t want.

  “Councilwoman Henedy, we’re going to have a little talk.” He wrapped one hand around her arm and swung her toward a deputy in uniform.

  Jennifer didn’t fight it.

  There was nothing more she could do now.

  Her last thought as the deputy put cuffs on her was of her son.

  Oh, Reggie.

  This…this was going to destroy him completely.

  117

  Wallace Henedy was going to live. He’d stand trial and would confess all his sins. There would be damage, but the bullet had slid beneath his jaw and out his cheek.

  Izzie’s uncle had tackled him at the very last second, knocking his hand enough to deflect the bullet.

  Allen had stabilized him and then passed him off the already-waiting surgical team, headed by Dr. Macomber.

  Now, it was time for him to find Izzie.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  Jake had taken her down to the ER to be checked out again.

  The bullet had passed through Henedy’s jaw and grazed Izzie’s shoulder to lodge in the wall directly behind her.

  It had come so close. Allen’s distraction had allowed Jake to come in right as Henedy was aiming.

  He found her in the ER, being fussed over by Wanda and Nikkie Jean.

  Stockton st
ood back apart, watching, with a pale expression on a face very similar to Izzie’s.

  She saw Allen and stood.

  She swayed a little. Shock was going to take hold soon.

  She’d already had nightmares about being trapped by Wallace Henedy. Now, she’d had to experience it all over again.

  Allen pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes on hers.

  She called his name, a breathless gasp at the end.

  People got out of his way.

  A good thing as Allen had no intention of stopping.

  Then he was right in front of her. Where he wanted to be.

  “I get it now,” Allen said scooping her into his arms. He didn’t give a damn who saw them now. He’d almost lost his world today. He wasn’t ever letting her go again.

  “What?” Her arms slid around his neck. Like they had so many times before. Perfect. Right. He kissed her. Hard. Then pulled back so Izzie could breathe.

  “What my fate is.”

  She looked at him, a question on her pretty face. “And?”

  “I finally figured things out. In another life…you and I were fated to be together, Izadora MacNamara. I don’t know what happened then, but maybe this is our chance to do it right. Maybe we messed it up and this is our second chance. Or maybe we’re destined for each other, and this is how it’s going to work in this lifetime.”

  Izzie looked at him. “You’re not making much sense.”

  “I’m making perfect sense,” he whispered next to her ear. Just because he wanted to, in spite of everyone around them, he brushed his lips over the sensitive spot beneath her left ear. “I’m fated to be with you. That’s exactly what I want to be.”

  She pressed even closer. She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears. “I want a family. A big one.”

  He thought her whispered words were perfect. “I’m ready to start right now.”

  She laughed, the tiny bit of a wheeze in the sound. Stress was causing it to flare. He’d get her taken care of, then he’d take her back to his place. Where they’d decide their future, together.

  Allen would take care of her. Forever.

  Nothing sounded more perfect to her. She’d realized exactly how she felt about him the instant he’d been shot alongside a Brownsville highway. Today had cemented everything for her. “I’m ready and willing. As soon as we check on Shelby and get out of here.”

  “Come home with me. Move in with me. We’ll find a house together.”

  “Already making plans?” She loved his take charge attitude now. His way of wanting to protect those he loved by making things happen for them.

  “Wishes. I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”

  He lifted her. She knew what he wanted.

  Izzie kissed him again, as she heard the sounds of the ER erupting around them.

  Nikkie Jean let out a whoop, there was clapping and laughing.

  Annie was there somehow. When Izzie pulled back to breathe again, Nikkie Jean, Annie and Fin were right there, all dressed in FCGH scrubs, arms linked, and watching her and Allen like they were the main attraction.

  Which she supposed they were.

  It had never felt more perfect.

  She tightened her arms around his neck.

  Izzie wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him. Right where they stood.

  Until her uncle tapped her on the shoulder and she looked into eyes as dark as her own.

  “Come up for air, you two. The TSP has questions.” He was scowling. He’d heard every word Allen had said.

  Izzie suspected the entire ER had heard what Allen had said.

  She didn’t care at all. Allen was hers. Time everyone knew that.

  Allen shot her a wicked grin, then turned to her uncle. “Sorry, Uncle Jake. We have a future to plan.”

  Izzie laughed again at the look on Jake’s face, as her arms tightened around Allen. She couldn’t wait.

  She never had to be alone again.

  What About Jake?

  Jake MacNamara gets his own book, and solves his case in the conclusion to the Finley Creek: Disaster miniseries:

  STAND NEXT TO ME

  Coming in 2021.

  An Oldie But Goodie

  Allen and Izzie got stuck together in We All Sleep Alone, which is always a fun storyline to write, and especially fun to read.

  For another “stuck together” book check out the PAVAD title RUNNING …

  You might just run across a few favorite Finley Creek characters in this book, too!

  SETH Lorcan ached like a bitch. Every bone in his body reminded him of that. And he didn’t understand how it had happened. He certainly hadn’t been pulverized when he’d woken that morning. He’d had two things on his mind—attending a funeral for a friend and then heading to Lake Meredith and finishing out his first vacation in eight years.

  This wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

  Someone had tried to kill him. Dammit.

  He hated when that happened.

  He needed to get back to his place in Amarillo and figure out just who in three hells had bashed him in the head and stuffed him in an FBI issue trunk. That was priority one.

  But how was he supposed to do that? He wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up in this parking lot. He wasn’t even sure what parking lot or what agency he was in. Or what state. And it had to be an agency—the license plates were mostly federal.

  Someone had hit him over the head, and next he knew he was in a damned trunk. He didn’t know who owned the trunk, but he’d for damned sure find out. How far up were they in whatever agency they spawned from? They had to be for him to end up in a government sedan. What about his whole team? Were they ok?

  Were they involved in whatever had landed him in the trunk in the first place? Was it one of his damned teammates? People he worked with every day? They were the only people who’d known where he was going. Pretty ballsy to knock him out in broad daylight. There were several on his eight-member team who could do it—and several that he wouldn’t put it past. FBI, ATF, and DEA were not always good bedmates—even on these special little task forces that were designed to have agencies working like nice little playground buddies. Knocking him over the head and tossing him in a trunk would be just something they’d play. Hell of a playground game, but not one that surprised him. Not really.

  Pretty shitty of them to do it the day of their colleague’s funeral, though. Or was it more than that? Was it Antonio’s killer who’d knocked him in the skull? He had been at Antonio Riaz’s houseboat when he’d been conked. If it had been one of his own teammates, who could he call for help? Not his boss, not his partner. No one. He wasn’t close to anyone; was barely close enough to his own family to send a twice yearly email, to be honest. So no help there.

  Seth was used to depending on himself to get out of nasty situations. And he’d landed in quite a few of those, too. He’d just have to help himself once again.

  He needed a ride and a cell phone and a computer. Not necessarily in that order. He took a look around, evaluating each vehicle for both ease of access and ease of bypassing the ignition. None of the vehicles looked like something he could mess with quickly. Or easily—nearly every vehicle had some type of government license plate on it, except for those parked at the far edges of the level. He strongly suspected he wouldn’t find an old junker with unlocked doors anywhere here. Whomever had left these vehicles for the night—and he had a feeling it was late from the lack of sun coming in through the end of the garage—had locked them up right nice and tight. He slipped behind a concrete pillar as a silver SUV drove by, a woman at the wheel.

  Yep, she was going to have to be his ticket out of here. He’d flash his badge, charm her into lending him a phone, and then he’d leave her be. He’d ask some directions, then take her car. It was one of those small housewife SUVs, but it would work. He just hoped it was good on gas mileage, because he was a bit strapped for cash. Whoever had knocked him out had taken his wallet.

&nb
sp; Should he? Or should he hide his ass, walk out of here, find his partner Bertram, get to the bottom of whatever was going on, find Riaz’s killer, and then make it back to the office on Monday like nothing had ever happened? Then rip the unit apart, finding out who the traitor was—the one he’d been put in that unit to find in the first place?

  What other option did he have?

  He circled the row of vehicles, keeping his head down, and headed toward the back row where the SUV and driver waited. She was climbing out and he took a moment to study her, looking for the most obvious weaknesses. Every woman had a way of being charmed—he just had to find this woman’s.

  She was a damned hot woman, long red hair curling down half her back. Curved in all the right places. Yeah, too bad he was about to scare the shit out of her. There were so many other things a guy could do with a girl like her.

  She was young and vulnerable looking. Office staff or computer would be his best guess. He went with the second hunch when she grabbed two laptop bags and slung them over her shoulder. She was one of the computer geeks, then.

  “Hey, babe.”

  She closed the door. He grabbed her shoulder and then her arm when she jerked around at his voice.

  He let her go, then held up his hands, unthreateningly. “It’s ok, baby. I don’t plan on hurting you.” He stepped out of the shadows more fully.

  She stilled for a moment, becoming almost too calm. It surprised him. She should still be fighting—did she not have more self-preservation than that? She should be backing away, ready to run from a strange guy approaching her, in a dark parking garage. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m in a bit of a bind, and you’re my ticket out of here.” He stepped close enough to grab again, if needed.