Page 45 of More Than a Hero (Baytown Heroes #12)

Angie had laughed softly at Marty’s exuberance over the hearing aids he would be getting soon.

This was why she did what she did—these small wins for the people who still had a lot of life in them but now found some everyday things to be challenging.

But even with a smile on her face, she was acutely aware of the man standing to the side.

Her pen hovered as she double-checked a date, but she glanced up, still seeing him stare at her.

Tall. Young. Dressed sharp, but not Sunday sharp.

City sharp. Black hoodie under a red jacket, black cap turned backward, silver chain glinting like a warning light.

There was a hardness in his eyes that didn’t match the warmth of the senior apartment.

Gangster. That was the word that popped into her head.

Marty had introduced him as his great-nephew and seemed thrilled to have a visitor. “Ain’t that somethin’? Come all the way out to check on an old man.”

Tamarcus hadn’t smiled. Didn’t sit. He just hovered near the window, shifting from foot to foot like his skin didn’t fit right. Something about the way he watched the window, barely glancing at his uncle, made her spine tighten. But she didn’t show how it rattled her.

Angie had felt the sharp edge of fear. His eyes barely met hers, and when they did, they held no warmth. Grammy Ellen always said you could tell a lot about a person when looking into their eyes. She had a feeling Grammy Ellen wouldn’t trust Tamarcus. Nor would Pete.

Jimmy had arrived, his face flushed, and his usual confidence tamped down. His smile seemed forced. Angie watched as Jimmy glanced at Tamarcus, then at her, then excused himself to the bathroom.

Still, she kept her tone light. “I’m almost finished helping Mr. Marty with some paperwork for his new hearing aid.”

Tamarcus still said nothing, but kept his eyes now toward the bedroom where Jimmy had disappeared. She looked that way, then back at Tamarcus. His jaw was locked, shoulders coiled tight. His eyes didn’t leave that hallway.

Something was wrong. Angie’s pen stilled on the form.

Jimmy came back out a minute later, posture stiff, eyes scanning the room before they landed on her. He tried to smile, but once again, it didn’t reach his eyes.

That was when she heard it—the low whine of a siren in the distance. Faint at first, but growing louder. Angie turned her head slightly toward the window.

In the split second it took to glance, she saw the flicker of relief cross Jimmy’s face.

But Marty was frowning now, struggling to sit forward in his recliner. “You hear that? You think that’s?—?”

Angie reached to place a calming hand on his arm. “It’s probably nothing. Let’s just?—”

“Don’t move.”

The voice was sharp. She turned, breath catching in her throat. Tamarcus held a gun. Small. Black. Steady in his hand. But his eyes were wild.

“Don’t move,” he repeated, louder. “I swear to God.”

Marty stiffened. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

Jimmy stepped forward instinctively, moving between Angie and the weapon. “Don’t—don’t hurt anybody. Just?—”

Tamarcus’s hand twitched.

Marty’s eyes flared wide. “You get that thing outta my house!” He reached for his cane, his gnarled hand gripping it like a sword. “I didn’t fight in Vietnam just to sit here and let some fool wave a piece at me in my own damn living room.”

Before anyone could stop him, Marty stood with more strength than any of them expected and whacked Tamarcus on the leg.

“Dammit!” Tamarcus roared, lifting his hand and hitting Marty in the head.

Marty swayed and fell backward, unconscious.

“Mr. Marty!” Angie gasped, rushing forward?—

Tamarcus’s arm shot out, snatching her by the wrist. “Come here, bitch!”

“No! Let go of me!”

“Shut up! You’re coming with me.”

The gun pressed into her side. Angie froze. Her heart pounded against her ribs as Tamarcus hauled her toward the door. Her gaze hit Jimmy’s.

Jimmy tried to grab her, screaming, “No!”

Tamarcus lifted the weapon and pointed it straight toward Jimmy. Angie pushed his arm down as he fired, and the bullet hit the floor. Jimmy dove behind the table, and a teenage boy she didn’t know ran from the bedroom, his gaze wild-eyed, darting around.

“Robert! Down here!” Jimmy cried.

Tamarcus opened the front door and jerked on Angie’s arm, dragging her along. He was strong, and her knee buckled, keeping her from digging her heels in to slow him down.

Several people were now outside screaming. She spied some of the kids and seniors coming out of their apartments. Another gunshot cracked the air, and Angie screamed as the crowd scattered like birds under fire. Doors slammed as the kids were hustled back inside.

Tamarcus dragged her toward the black sedan. But when they reached it, he stopped. “Shit!” he barked.

The car was blocked in. A big, ancient Buick was parked directly behind it, and she recognized it as Bertram’s. Not understanding how it came to be there, she tried to wrench her arm from his grasp. He yanked her back, fury radiating off him like a furnace.

Red and blue lights flashed around the corner. Sirens were now right there, tires screeching. Tamarcus spun around and dragged her back toward the apartments.

“No—let me go!” Angie twisted, but his grip was like iron. Her knee completely gave out, and she dropped to the ground.

He dragged her until they were at Marty’s door. Tamarcus tossed her to the floor. She looked behind her, but Jimmy had disappeared. So had the other boy, and when she looked toward the recliner, Marty was also gone.

Her attention darted back to Tamarcus. She could hear shouting, commands being yelled, and footsteps thundering down the walkway.

Tamarcus jerked the curtains closed over the front window, and Angie scooted farther away, trying to stay out of his way. Her heart crashed like thunder, and her chest heaved with each breath. She wasn’t sure if she was going to die at this moment, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.