Page 232 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Gian couldn’t get rid of the image of the brain matter splattered across the welcome sign behind the shelter’s receptionist desk. He’d thought something was wrong when his phone call with Cara ended abruptly. He knew something was wrong for sure when—after driving like a bat out of hell—he found the front of the shelter dark, without the usual warm lights brightening the entrance.

Inside, two dead women sent him running for the offices wing. Dom stayed in the entrance to help the frightened, shocked women that had been spared.

“Cara!”

Gian checked office after office, but found nothing. A few of the staff had locked their doors, too, but he didn’t think Cara would be in an office with someone else. She had called from her office phone, and that was why he went looking there first. He’d put together what she had said about the risk level for an altercation due to a new woman at the shelter, and figured … the altercation happened.

Halfway down the hallway, he heard a snarling voice coming from behind the exit doors. He wasn’t sure where that led to, but he knew the shelter was sectioned off to make it feel more home-like, and less like a complex.

“Get those fucking doors open,” a man barked. “Right now, or I’ll blow your fucking head apart.”

“Please, listen. The doors can’t be opened. Please don’t—”

“Open the fucking doors!”

“I can’t open them!”

The woman’s resounding cry that followed her statement had Gian picking up his pace. Already, he had his favorite Berretta at the ready. He shouldn’t be walking around with a gun, anyway, not with the cops being so hot on his ass, and the time he had just served for illegal weapons possession.

Gian figured having a gun now was a damn good thing.

“Bitch, I’m gonna kill you.”

Gian’s foot hit the latch on the wing exit door at the same time he aimed his gun and turned toward the voices. The guy with the semi-auto rifle pointed at the cowering woman on the floor didn’t see Gian either.

Not until it was too late.

The trigger pulled back smooth and easy under Gian’s finger. The bullet plugged into the forehead of the guy, sent his eyes flying wide, and then he stumbled back several steps. His head cracked morbidly against the wall on his way to the floor.

Gian considered putting another bullet in the fucker, just for good measure, but the horrified shriek of the woman stopped him. He passed her a look and recognized her instantly. Cara’s boss.

Jenny, he thought her name was.

“You okay?” Gian asked.

Jenny just stared at him, blinking.

“Did someone call the cops?”

She still didn’t talk.

“Where’s Cara?” Gian demanded.

Jenny swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the corpse bleeding out between his eyes on the floor, and Gian standing just a few feet away. “Probably inside the kitchen and dining area, if she’s not locked in her office.”

“She’s not locked in her office.”

“You killed him.”

“He was going to kill you,” Gian offered with a shrug. “Which was the better option? I think we both like this one more. I can have the carpets replaced before the weekend is up. It’ll be like he never even happened, no worries.”

The man might have hurt Cara.

Or Gian’s child.

Rage filtered in through Gian’s numbed senses, but he pushed it down. It was done with, and handled. A problem came up, and he fixed it. It was just what Gian did.

“RCMP, show your hands!”