One Week To Live (29 page)

****

Once inside the apartment, a loud bird squawk greeted her. Rita left Clancy on the coffee table. She walked over to talk to him. Instead of his usual whistle greeting, he hissed at her.

“You’ve forgotten me already,” she said, whistling at him. Instead of a returning whistle, he backed away from her and continued to hiss. What was wrong with him?

“I’ll deal with you later,” she muttered, starting to strip off her sweat-stained clothes as she moved through the living room. Nearing the bedroom she began to feel uneasy. She was being foolish. Tucker was dead, but the uneasiness persisted.

Not bothering to turn on the bedroom light, she removed the rest of her clothes and padded into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, adjusted the water’s temperature, then stepped in. The water immediately stung her scraped hands and knees. She tugged the shower curtain closed.

She’d just lathered up when the curtain flew open. Seeing it was her ex-husband, she screamed and grabbed the curtain to cover herself.

“So modest, my dear Angie,” he said. “You never were modest when we were together.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, now understanding her feeling of uneasiness and her bird’s reaction.

“I’m your husband. That’s what I’m doing here. Get dressed, we’re leaving.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, using brave words to hide the fear she felt.

“Oh, yes you are,” he said, pulling a pistol out from behind his back.

Clutching the shower curtain tightly around her, she stared at her ex-husband through a cloud of steam. Disbelief mingled with fright. He’d gotten into her apartment. How? She thought of the unlocked door. He’d been lying in wait for her and saw Rita unlock it. All her efforts to run from him were in vain.

“Turn off the damn water and get dressed,” he ordered, his dark eyes filled with anger.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she replied, praying her words held more conviction than she felt.

“Oh, yes, you are, unless you want to be dead,” he announced waving the gun at her in a threatening manner.

She stared at the Glock. Would he kill her? If he did, he’d no longer possess her. However, wasn’t killing her another kind of control? Right now he decided if she lived or died.

“I said get dressed.” He pointed at the clothes sitting on the toilet seat. The neatly folded garments weren’t hers. They were new. He’d been planning this abduction long enough to shop. More fear surfaced. He’d always dictated what she wore, picking out expensive garments he liked. Her friends complimented her on his good taste and told her she should feel lucky. They didn’t understand that the clothes were another way for him to possess her.

“I’d like privacy to dress,” she announced, again attempting to put more courage into her words than she felt. She shouldn’t have chased Brian away. Then she looked at the gun and thought about what could happen if he was there. He wouldn’t let her ex-husband take her. It was better he wasn’t there. She’d somehow get out of this mess on her own.

Her ex-husband glared at her. “You’ve developed a stubborn streak I don’t like. I’ll go along with it for now. However, once you’re back under my roof, things will change.”

“You’ll never control me again,” she spat back, throwing the shower curtain back and grabbing for a towel. She didn’t have the guts to tell him that face to face when she’d left him. Saying it now felt good.

“We’ll see about that,” he replied.

Standing in front of him nearly naked, she felt vulnerable. However, she wouldn’t let him intimidate her in spite of the angry fire brewing in his eyes.

He walked toward the door then hesitated. “Remember, I’m right outside. Don’t try anything.”

“What do you expect me to do? My simple apartment doesn’t boast a bathroom window like your fancy house does.”

He started to say something. Wrapping the towel more snugly around her, she interrupted him. “And I like this home the way it is because it’s mine.”

“That sass you’ve acquired must go,” he growled, leaving the door ajar as he left.

Gun or no gun, she couldn’t let him get the upper hand. She refused to be brainwashed or demeaned by him again. She’d worked too hard to regain her self-worth to lose it now.

She slipped on the designer garments he’d left. The clothes were beautiful from the lace-trimmed underwear to the well-tailored white, linen slacks and sapphire blue silk shirt. However, these days she preferred wearing her own clothes bought off sale racks at discount stores. When she left the bathroom, he gave her an approving once-over. At one time, his approval meant everything. Today it didn’t.

“Put this on,” he ordered, holding out a ring.

She stared at the diamond-encrusted wedding band. No, she thought. The day she’d removed that ring and left his house, she’d declared her independence. The ring symbolized the chains that shackled her to him.

“No, I won’t wear it.”

“Yes, you will.”

She knocked the ring from his left hand. It rolled across the tile floor banging into the wall. His face reddened and fury filled his dark eyes. Shit, she thought. She should have knocked away the gun he held in his other hand. So much for the self-defense classes she’d taken. Seeing his rage grow and his finger caress the trigger, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the gunshot ending her life.

****

When Brian walked past the mailboxes, his uneasy feeling grew. He peered into the shadows but saw no one. The reporter had taken the hint and left. So why did he feel like something bad was about to happen? His steps quickened as he headed back into the apartment complex.

She shouldn’t be alone. He knew he should respect her wishes. He understood that couples needed their space. However, right now he wanted to hold her, love her, and wake up next to her.

Arriving at the pool, all appeared quiet. A slight breeze rustled the palm tree fronds and stirred the water. The pool’s reflection shimmered across the nearby apartment walls. Chaise lounges lined the concrete in neat rows. Apartment windows remained dark, their inhabitants still asleep. However, he saw a faint glow in her apartment, probably her bedroom light.

His heart went out to her. She’d tried to put on a brave front, but could she scare away the demons? The nightmares bound to surface after all she’d been through. He knew all about the demons that appeared at night chasing away any hope of sleep.

After his son’s death, he’d been haunted by them. When the nightmares came, there was no one to comfort him. His ex-wife had already moved to the guest room and eventually left the house. They could have comforted each other, but they didn’t. Would things be different if they had? He didn’t know.

Staring at her window, he made up his mind. It wasn’t going to happen to them. He’d always be there to soothe away her bad dreams. Tragedy drove him and his wife apart. Near tragedy wouldn’t drive him and Angie apart. He couldn’t let it. He’d almost reached the bottom of the stairway leading to her apartment when her door flew open and she emerged.

“Angie,” he called out.

Startled, she looked down. Unexplained fear edged her face.

“What’s wrong?” he yelled.

“Stay away,” she warned. “He’s got a gun.”

Who has a gun? Her ex-husband appeared and began pushing her toward the stairway.

“You better do what she says, Murphy.”

As they descended the stairs, Brian saw the gun pointed at her back. His heart skipped a beat.

“Let her go,” Brian demanded knowing the man wouldn’t.

“I’ll never let her go,” Martinelli snarled. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed her and wrapped his arm across her chest. He pointed the gun at her head. “I already told you if I can’t have her, no one will.”

“She’s no longer yours to have,” Brian spat back, trying to figure out how to disarm the man without getting Angie killed. “You’re divorced and she wants nothing to do with you.”

“I don’t care what a piece of paper says,” the man growled. “She’s my wife and always will be. No one walks out on me unless I say they can.”

“But she did walk out, you bastard.” Brian didn’t like the crazed look now filling the man’s eyes. If he provoked him more, he might carry out his threat to kill her. As a reporter, he’d witnessed more than one hostage situation. Even with a negotiator, things didn’t always go well. And he wasn’t a negotiator. In fact, to Tony Martinelli, he was the enemy, the man who’d stolen Angie away from him.

“I know you’ve been sleeping with my wife. I could kill you for that,” he said. “She belongs to me.”

Brian’s anger grew. He’d be the one to see the man dead before he’d let the bastard take her. Brave words, he thought, considering he didn’t have a weapon. He began to inch toward them.

“Stay back or I’ll kill her.”

Brian knew the man wouldn’t back down, would never let her go. The increasing fury filling Martinelli’s eyes told him the time for talking was over.

“If you’re smart, you’ll clear out now,” Martinelli said.

Studying the man, he weighed his options. The man wasn’t tall, but what he lacked in height he made up for in brawn. Broad shoulders and muscular arms attested to hours at the gym. He prided himself on being physically fit, but could he overpower the man without endangering Angie? He had to try.

Martinelli started to move away from Brian as he skirted the pool. She stood directly in front of him again, the gun burrowing into her back. Brian needed to make his move now. He couldn’t let the woman he loved be dragged off by the man she’d feared for so long. Sucking in a breath, he charged Martinelli hoping to tackle him. Before he could, the man whirled around and fired. Pain shot through his upper arm and he sank to his knees.

“No,” Angie screamed, struggling to escape her ex-husband.

“The bullet just grazed him,” Martinelli scoffed. “If you don’t want him dead, you’ll come with me now.” Once more grabbing her from behind, he put the pistol to her head and pushed her forward.

Holding his arm, Brian struggled to his feet. He might be injured, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. However, she made the next move. She planted her spiked heel into her ex-husband’s instep. Yelping, he let her go. She whirled around and kneed him hard in the groin. He doubled over, but didn’t drop the gun.

“You little bitch,” he growled. “You’re nothing but a whore not worth keeping.”

He aimed the Glock at Angie. Brian rushed him. Lunging, he took the man down just as the gun went off. The shot echoed through the courtyard, the bullet smashing into a nearby apartment wall. Apartment lights went on. People peeped from draped windows, but no one came out. Brian went for the gun and it flew from Martinelli’s hand skidding across the pool deck. She grabbed for it and aimed the pistol at her ex-husband.

“You wouldn’t,” Martinelli said, slowly getting to his feet.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” she replied. “And I do know how to use it.”

“I don’t think you can,” Martinelli replied, starting to inch his way toward her. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.

He continued moving toward her.

Brian watched amazed at how steady the hand that gripped the gun was. “Angie, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

“He’s tormented me for the last time,” she said.

Martinelli lunged at Angie. A shot rang out and he fell to the ground clutching his gut. Blood oozed from his splayed fingers.

She stared at the pistol for a moment, then dropped it. Dunning came rushing across the pool deck and grabbed the gun.

“How did you…?”

“I was bringing your purse back, Ms. Martin, and wanted to talk to you about your abduction yesterday. I heard the commotion and drew my weapon, obviously arriving here just in time. I’m the one who shot him, not you.”

“Thank God,” Brian said, looking at her.

Dunning phoned for an ambulance, then examined Martinelli. Brian prayed the bastard was dead. If her ex-husband was gone, she’d be free of the man who’d pursued her for so long. Unfortunately, although blood soaked the front of the man’s white golf shirt, he remained alive. Within minutes the EMTs arrived, tended to him, and placed him on a gurney.

She stood motionless staring at the puddle of blood drying on the concrete next to the pool. Brian went to her.

“He hurt you,” she stammered, her face pale as she studied his arm. “It must be painful.”

He glanced at it. The blood began to dry, caking on his already dirty T-shirt. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll live.”

Dunning approached. “That should be looked at.” He motioned one of the EMTs over, and then asked Angie if she was all right.

She said yes, but Brian knew she wasn’t. As soon as the EMT bandaged his wound, he returned to Angie’s side. “Don’t look so worried. The bullet grazed me, that’s all.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You just did a brave thing,” he said, trying to put encouragement into his words.

“He meant to kill you. I couldn’t let him do that,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“Would you have shot him?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she replied softly.

He gently stroked the side of her cheek with his index finger. “Let’s go to your apartment.” He turned to Dunning. “Can we leave?”

“Yeah, but I’ll need to talk to you both later.”

Brian nodded.

When Dunning started to depart she stopped him. “Special Agent Dunning, is my ex-husband going to live?”