Page 87 of Disarming Caine

Antonio

Janellehadbarelyglancedaround the scene as she strode in, heading directly to my office with Samantha. The storm clouds followed behind them.

“If you ever pull such a stupid ass move again—” Janelle’s voice carried through the closed door in the back. “—I will throw you in a goddamn cell and not let you out until you see some fucking sense!”

“I’m alright, sì?” I inclined my head past the reception wall, eying the paramedic who’d finished fixing the stitches in my shoulder. “Because I fear my girlfriend requires some backup.”

He helped me up, and I stretched out my back from sitting on the floor for so long. I’d hit the ground when the first gunshot sounded, smashing my knees and wrist as I pulled Sofia down, then tearing my stitches when I hauled Frank behind the desk. My back was the worst of it, other than the panic.

After the first bullets shattered the front glass and we were all on the ground, the shooting paused. Samantha didn’t come rushing in. The other bullets sounded, and it was Tuesday night all over again. But so much worse. I couldn’t hold her, put myself between her and the shooter. All I could do was pray she was safe.

Like Napoli. When I’d run through the streets after talking to the man who’d threatened to hurt her.

Deep breath in.She was alright.Deep breath out.Frank would be fine.

I made my way toward the back; the voices quieting for a moment. With one hand on the doorknob, I waited. Perhaps a few more minutes of lecture were warranted. Janelle could say things to her I couldn’t. Our relationship was still too fragile, not like theirs. A decade of silence between the two of them, but their bond remained strong.

“Jesus Christ, Sam, he could have killed you!”

Exactly, Janelle. Get it through her stubborn head.

“That asshole boyfriend of yours—” Un momento. That was not right. “—was supposed to keep you at his place! I told him you’d do something brainless!”

I knocked, put on the smile, and entered. “Mi scusi, but theassholeneeds a fresh shirt from his office.”

Janelle’s narrowed eyes fell on me. “Don’t you try and play cute, Ferraro.”

“May as well tell him not to breathe,” Samantha muttered from the chair she sat in.

“Fucking hell, Sam!” Janelle rounded on her, slamming her cap on the table, sending papers fluttering to the floor. “I was worried shitless. Don’t you ever do something like that again!”

Samantha shrugged, nonchalant. “The guy’s in custody now, so I don’t have to.”

I crossed to the rear of the office and opened a drawer where I kept clean clothes for days work became too dirty.

“Yeah, about that.” Janelle paused, clearing her throat. “I talked to the officer who met you at the scene. Suspect’s claiming you tried to kill him?”

“Did not,” Samantha grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing back there?” Janelle’s words were likely directed at me, as I was stripping off my blood-stained shirt.

“Changing.” I turned as I finished hauling it over my head. Should I make a crack about trying not to be too cute? Tease about giving me some privacy? No. Jokes would work on Samantha, not Janelle. “I intend no disrespect, Officer Williams, but unless this conversation is confidential, I mean to be here to support Samantha. And to do that—” I grabbed the fresh shirt and tugged it on. “—I’d rather not remain covered in my cousin’s blood.”

Janelle’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought she was about to throw something at me. Instead, she ran her hands over her head and clasped them behind her neck. “The witnesses who actually saw anything said it was the other way around. So at least I don’t have to arrest you. Yet.”

I sank into the seat next to Samantha and rested a hand on her back. She was trembling. It was slight, but constant, and I hadn’t noticed until I touched her. Moving my chair closer to hers, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Her hands remained clasped in her lap, projecting an aura of calm despite the torrent raging inside. “Do you have a name yet?”

“Parker Johnson,” said Janelle.

Samantha turned to me. “Well, that answers one question.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“He said we went after his girlfriend. Felicia’s restorer boyfriend is clearly Parker.”

“Went after?” asked Janelle.