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Her big blue eyes blinked up at him. “Okay.”
Michael rose, standing over her, holding his gun, while sirens grew louder. “Sam, we’re back here!”
Sam sprinted toward them, her phone to her ear. “Deb is free. There were two gunshots. I don’t know the status upstairs.” She raised her brows, obviously asking him.
Michael shook his head. “I was getting Deb out.”
Thudding sounded from the stairs. Michael shoved Sam behind him. “Down.”
A man appeared in the door to the apartment, hands behind his back, Tom behind him, followed by another man, with Ryan behind him. “Down on the ground. Face down, flat.” Both men dropped to their knees, then Tom and Ryan lowered them to the concrete. Michael would have pushed them, hoping their noses broke. Bright red stained one man’s arm.
“Attackers are secured in the bakery. One wounded, so we need an ambulance.” Sam rose and pushed past Michael.
He turned to Deb, offering her a hand up. Scowling, she refused and used the refrigerator door handle to pull herself up. She stomped to Sam, who held an arm out to prevent Deb from getting too close. Probably wise, because Deb’s clenched fists implied she was furious.
Michael followed Deb. The original thug who threatened her, plus another guy who looked enough like him to be a brother. He was moaning. Ryan rolled him to his side, cutting away his shirt to expose the wound on his upper arm.
Sam leaned over and said something quietly to Deb. She scowled, but turned on a toe. “I’ll get it.”
Michael followed her to the front, where she pulled out a big red bag with a white cross. “Big first aid kit.” He put out his hand to take it from her.
She ignored him, carrying it to the back. Red and blue flashed inside the bakery, and people crowded the area. Marcus Sheriff’s deputies, Marcus City police, and a State police officer stood near the bad guys, most listening to Sam, one deputy handcuffing the men on the floor. With the trouble Wiz had encountered with the cops, Michael was happy to leave the talking to an attorney.
Wiz and Pete entered the room, sliding behind the crowd, and an ambulance crew pushed a gurney inside. A crime scene technician headed up the stairs with one of the deputies.
Pete joined them. “Deb, can I get some big garbage bags?” He put an arm around her shoulder. “They trashed your place. I’m so sorry.” Deb turned into Pete’s chest, and he hugged her. “Don’t worry, when the cops release the scene, we’ll take care of it. Wiz got pictures for your insurance, and she said you’re welcome to her guest house as long as you need it.”
Michael would rather be holding Deb, but if cleanup was all he could do to help, then he would. Deb’s cleaning supplies were neatly stacked below the handwashing sink. He grabbed the box of black garbage bags, and other supplies. When the deputy released the upstairs, he slid behind the remaining cops, and trod up the stairs.
Dropping the box near the door, he pulled a bag and shoved armfuls of stuffing into the black bags, along with the chair cushions when he reached the window. Erin, Wiz, and Ryan joined him shortly, all of them working together to pick up the tatters of Deb’s once-lovely home. They had most of the mess cleaned up in minutes, but the ripped mattress would be a challenge to get down the stairs.
Wiz looked out the still-open window. “I can pull Pete’s truck below the window, then we can dump all the bags out there and take them to the dump tomorrow. How do we get the mattress out?”
“We’ll have to cut it in half.” Michael shrugged. “Then out the window.” He joined Wiz and inspected the remains of the latch and the window frame. “These are terrible latches. I’ll replace all of them with better ones, and install some additional security measures. I wonder if she’d go for bars?”
“No, she wouldn’t go for bars.” Deb stomped across the room. “I’m not living in a prison because of some thugs.”
Michael scowled at her. “I’m not proposing a jail, just a little additional security.”
“The answer is no. And I’ll decide what goes on my windows, when, and who.” Her brows almost met above the bridge of her nose, her cheeks were flushed, and her fists clenched.
Evidently, he’d infuriated her again, but she was too cute to be intimidating. “Okay.” He raised both hands. “It’s your house.” Once she’d calmed down, she’d agree. She probably just needed to feel in control after being captured.
“Yes, it is.” Erin put an arm around Deb and spoke quietly to her.
Michael kept cleaning. But whether she agreed or not, he was still upgrading her latches, if only for his peace of mind. It had been too easy to break in; he wouldn’t sleep knowing she was so poorly protected. Despite capturing the two thugs downstairs, he was certain the threat wasn’t over—they had to be ready for the next battle or they’d lose the war.
Chapter 5
Deb sat upright on the springy bed, heart pounding, mouth dry, shaking like the middle of an undercooked cake and feeling just as raw. For the fifth night in a row, she’d relived the terror of a hand covering her mouth, the hard, frigid barrel of a gun to her temple, and a man’s voice warning her to shut up and tell them where the money was, or she’d die, and so would all her friends. Not wanting to put her friend’s lives at risk, she’d told them all her money was upstairs.
In hindsight, she’d been stupid. All her friends except Sam had been armed, and they were all smart enough not to shoot wildly. She should have stomped on the top of the man’s foot, then let her legs collapse, jerking her head out of the man’s grip, and then yelled while rolling away. But she’d frozen. Unlike her friends, she wasn’t military, or a martial arts expert, or a fierce negotiator. She designed cute aprons, baked and decorated. She didn’t ninja her way out of life and death situations; she created heart attacks and weight gain. Mostly her own.
Her alarm went off and she climbed out of Wiz and Tom’s incredibly comfortable guest bed. Commuting in the dark wasn’t fun, but the safety of Wiz’s super-secure-to-the-point-of-paranoia compound let her fall asleep at night. Even with the security upgrades Wiz and Michael were implementing at the bakery, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep in her apartment. But she had to try. They’d completed their work and given her a tour after she closed the day before. On the surface, little had changed, but it no longer felt like home.
She dressed, gathered her remaining things from the guest house and packed them in her suitcase, rolling it out to her car and putting it in the trunk. Security lights flashed on with her movements, and the gates opened in front of her car. It was a little spooky, but she was sure that no matter how hard she tried to be unobtrusive, Wiz woke whenever she left the guest house. She wasn’t the kind to sleep through anything, let alone movement near her home.
Deb drove down the dirt road and turned on to the highway, watching for deer, elk and other critters. Since spring was coming, they were gaining seven minutes of daylight every passing day, but it was never light at four o’clock in the morning. Another reason to return to her apartment—commuting was dangerous. She couldn’t afford a new car on top of the security equipment.
