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I continued sprinting, grateful that the sidewalk had been shoveled. How far was the park? Four minutes away at this pace, maybe five? I probably should have taken Luke’s car, but it was too late for that. Adrenaline burned in my veins and my pulse pounded in my head. This wasn’t just a normal jog around the field with Luke. This time, there were real stakes.
He loves me. I had hoped it was the case, but seeing the words written on the note changed something inside of me.He loves me, and I love him. And he’s about to do something extremely stupid.
Hopefully I wasn’t too late. I would never forgive myself if I was.
I shook off the thoughts and tried to come up with a plan. I remembered that the park had a line of trees around the edge, and low bushes that flanked the pathways. The moon was small tonight; I could probably sneak along in the dark without being seen. I would figure out what to do on the fly. But stealth was the most important thing. That was the best way to keep Luke and myself safe.
I was one block away when I heard the unmistakablePOPof a gunshot.
No,I thought, my stomach sinking.No, no, no!
“Was that a gun?” someone at a bus stop asked.
“Call the police!” I replied as I passed. “Tell them to come to the park!”
I hoped the stranger listened. I didn’t stop to check. I was blind with panic now, running for the life of the man I loved. I pulled the gun out of my coat pocket and threw away my original stealthy plan. I didn’t care if I ran right into the open. All I could think about was Luke getting shot, laying on the ground, dying…
I reached the edge of the park and burst around the tree line. I saw them immediately, roughly a hundred feet away. My eyes went straight to the figure on the ground.No, I’m too late, he’s been shot, I thought, suppressing a wail of anguish.I’ve failed my love.
Then I saw the other two men, whose silhouettes blended with the bushes on the far side of the path. Luke’s muscular frame was unmistakable to me, even from this distance in the dark. He was standing defensively, with his palms held out. The other man shifted, and I saw the gun held at his side.
A gun which he raised toward Luke.
Years of training and muscle memory took over as I aimed my own gun with two hands. I squeezed off a double-burst,BANG, BANG, and there was a third gunshot that didn’t come from my weapon. My first shot missed, but I knew the second one hit the target.
The man crumpled to the ground.
Luke leaped into action as I closed the distance to them, kicking the gun out of the other man’s hand and squaring his shoulders, preparing to defend himself if the man tried to get up. But the other man was still on the ground by the time I got there. I kicked the gun a little farther away, paused to make sure the man I had shot was staying down, and then I threw myself into Luke’s arms.
“Cazzie? What are you doing here?” he demanded.
I shoved him hard. “Me?Me?WHAT AREYOUDOING HERE?”
It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but Luke looked determined. “Taking matters into my own hands. Taking control of my life.”
“You’re doing a great job of it, clearly,” I replied. “So this is the guy? The one who has been threatening you all this time?”
“Both of them,” Luke said.
The first man groaned, and I quickly went into damage control mode. I checked Raspy—that’s what Luke called him—for weapons. Aside from a pocket knife, he was unarmed. He had been shot in the chest, so I put pressure on the wound and gave Luke instructions for the other guy. My shot had hit him in the shoulder, and didn’t appear to be life-threatening, although he still remained on the ground and moaned in pain.
Then the police were there and took over. There was blood all over my hands, and Luke’s too, but that didn’t stop us from hugging again.I’m never letting go of you ever again,I thought to myself while he clung to me just as fiercely.You beautiful, dumb, stubborn man.
“We were close,” the detective said, holding out a sheet of paper. “We narrowed it down to six persons of interest.”
Luke smiled wryly and pointed at the third name on the list. “That’s him. Andrew Schulz. Brock Schulz’s father.”
The detective frowned. “Who’s father?”
“It’s a long story.”
A police cruiser drove us to the station, where we gave our statements. I clenched my jaw while Luke told the detective how he had arranged the meeting with his blackmailers.Aside from some paperwork dealing with my concealed firearm permit, my side of things was relatively straightforward. It helped that Raspy Voice—whose real name was Timothy Ortega, and was on parole for running a car chop shop—confessed to everything he had done with Andrew Schulz.
By the time we got home, it was four in the morning. Luke’s neighbor Jimmy Michaels was just getting up to walk their dog. He started to make a comment about how we must have been out late partying to celebrate the game, but then trailed off when he saw that I was wearing pajamas.
When we were inside, I saw Luke’s note on the kitchen counter. I picked it up and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
