CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 51
“What about you? Don’t you have to go back to the call center, soon?”
“I’m on vacation, remember?”
“Did you tell me that already? The pain meds mess with my memory.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”
“How do I do this, Luke? I only brought enough for a couple of days at Mom’s. She was supposed to stay with me at my place a few days after the birth. I’m not prepared for any of this.”
He caught her reflection in the rearview mirror, worried at the lines of strain on her face. “We have stores here, Cori. Anything you need, we’ll get for you. We’ll make this work, I promise.” He looked again, caught her wiping tears from her eyes. “Try not to worry.”
She sniffed and used the back of her sleeve to wipe her eyes. “I’m just depressed about the way things have turned out, that’s all.”
“I think that’s natural. Mom calls it the ‘baby blues’ but there’s a scientific explanation for it. Your hormones are kind of wacky right now, but they should level off in a week or so.” He thought about her situation. “I’m sure you’d planned to stay awake and experience your delivery.”
She nodded and sniffled again. “Melissa was supposed to be with me in the delivery room. I remember blood . . . lots of blood . . . then everything went black. I woke up with a baby. A long shot chance to have a child and I missed everything.”
“You’ll appreciate your next child’s birth even more.”
“Next child? It’s a miracle I got pregnant in the first place. No way will it happen again. Besides, I need a man for that, and my chances narrowed with the birth of my son. There aren’t many men out there willing to raise another man’s child.”
He flipped the turn indicator and took the four-lane leading to his parent’s place, taking note of the black SUV with tinted windows two cars behind them. It turned also, remained the same distance behind them. “My dad didn’t have a problem with it.”
“I know you were adopted but there’s a difference. Your parents both adopted you, chose you. It’s more complicated because he’s my son. It’s like the new male lion taking charge of the pride. They don’t want anything to do with the previous male lion’s cubs.”
“Cori . . .”
“Well, it’s true.” She wiped at tears falling too fast to control them.
He stopped himself short of calling her silly. No way would that fly in her frame of mind. “This may come as a surprise to you, but we men have evolved. We’re quite civilized now, even more than lions.”
Their gazes clashed in the rearview mirror, her eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Don’t make fun of me!”
“I’m not.” He wanted to kick his own ass at the way her face crumbled.
“Yes, you are.”
“Hon, you’re worrying about nothing.” He turned onto the street, approached the brick entryway with the name of his parents’ subdivision on display. He applied his brakes at the second street and waited, relieved when the SUV didn’t turn in behind them.
“Says you.”
He had to laugh at her pitiful comeback. “That’s right. You need to trust me on that hormone thing, because it’ll pass. Now dry those tears. We’ll be home in a few minutes and our families can’t wait to pamper you for the rest of the day.”
She sobered for a moment before seeking out his gaze in the rearview. “Is your mom a good cook?”
“She is. Are you hungry for something other than hospital food?”
“Yes, and I’m hoping for more sticky buns.”
“If she’s out, I’m sure she’ll be glad to make another batch just for you.” He checked the mirror again. At least that brought a smile to face.
As it happened, their families had been too busy preparing a lavish post-baby/post-Christmas homecoming celebration to watch the news. After another tearful meltdown from Cori, and appropriate fawning over her and Little Luke, he’d sat everyone down to explain the situation.
“What do we do about this? Have you heard from any law enforcement agencies?”
“No, but I expect they’ll be calling soon.”
Arthur grabbed the phone. “I’ll call the department right now, see what they can do.”
Joan cradled her new grandson protectively in her arms. “How difficult will it be for that monster to find her now that he knows her name, and where she lives?” She clutched the baby tighter. “Things like this don’t happen to regular ol’ people like us.”
Melissa gave her mom a one-armed hug. “They do, Mom. Every single day, things like this happen to regular people, just like us—people who don’t go out looking for trouble, but just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Luke stepped up. “That’s right, but most regular ol’ people don’t happen to have Marine and police vets to look out for them. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Dad, here, happens to have an arsenal at his disposal if we have to scare anyone off.”
“And I can assure you, when he’s not sleeping in his recliner, he’s cleaning his guns, so they should be ready to fire,” Dolores added. “And we pay good money for a security system we’ve never had to use. Maybe it’s time they earn their keep around here. As soon as Arthur’s off the phone I’m going to call them to explain the situation and make sure everything’s in working order.”
Joan hugged her grandson close. “Well, I admit I’ve never been one in favor of keeping firearms in a home. But, it’s looking better . . . as long as they’re locked up and away from children.”
“They’re always locked up and I don’t even know the combination,” Dolores added.
Luke gave Cori’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve got this covered, don’t you worry,” he whispered into her ear. He lifted his head. “Hey, Mom. Cori wants to know if there are any more caramel sticky buns left.”
Dolores headed to the kitchen. “I made a fresh batch this morning, just for the occasion; how about one with a cup of coffee, Cori?”
Luke laughed at Cori’s reaction. Despite the recent bout with tears, her eyes lit up at the prospect. As soon as she walked away, he pulled out his phone, shot one quick text out to two different buddies.
Need your assistance to protect a lady and her newborn infant from some shit for brains gangbangers looking to get their asses kicked—or worse. Real scum of the earth type…no lie. Need someone posted outside my folks’ home round the clock. Who’s in? Glad to reimburse for any expenses incurred throughout operation.
The first response was immediate, and from “Cowboy”, living in nearby Orange, Texas.
If by “posted” you mean hiding so the mofo’s will never see what hit them until they’re dragging broken limbs and choking on their own teeth, then I’m in. Bored as hell with Civvie life. Sounds like a shitload of fun to me. Negative on the reimbursement issue. Hell, I should pay you!
It took a while longer for “Gator” to reply—an entire two minutes.
I’m in. Tell the new mom we got her back. I’m assuming it’s the looker in the interview with you? A mutual friend of ours sent me the YouTube link. Tex heard about it all the way from his ranch in Blanco, man. Good job, bro. We gonna meet somewhere for recon assignments?
Luke scratched at his chin, thinking they couldn’t be too careful at this point.
That’s a negative. I don’t want you seen until this is over. I’m sending you my GPS coordinates. You two work out a schedule amongst yourselves. Get back to me when someone’s in position or if I need to find replacements. Status is critical. Assistance needed ASAP.
He waited, watched as his mom sat Cori in the most comfortable chair in the living room with a lap tray, then placed a saucer holding a thick caramel-coated bun on one side of the tray, and a steaming cup of coffee on the other. The presence of family members and newfound friends certainly appeared to lift the new mom’s spirit.
Within a few short minutes, the buzz of his phone had him checking to find a reply.
It’s a go! Expect confirmation of placement by 18:45. Have coordinated efforts for maximum protection. Expect zero allowance of any suspicious activity. With your permission, would like to bring in back-up—a friend who happens to be visiting the area, equally bored and eager to kick some gangbanger ass.
He smiled as he answered the text: I trust your judgment. Thanks man.
Oorah!
He slipped his phone in his pocket and walked over to meet his dad.
“They’ll have someone here by this evening. One parked out front and one patrolling.”
“Thanks, Pop. I’ve got my own reinforcements coming in this evening.
Arthur looked from Luke to Cori and back. “Son, is there something going on with you two?”
“Nothing other than friendship.” Him wanting more had nothing to do with anything.
“Are you sure? She named her kid after you.”
“That was gratefulness, Pop, pure and simple. She said she didn’t have a name picked out for him yet. She been waiting for a sign, and wanted it to mean something.”
Arthur stared at him then gave his head a slow nod. “I think I understand.” He slapped him on the shoulder and threw back a wink. “Good luck.”
“Just friends!” he called out to the man already walking away from him. All he needed was for his Pop to go to Cori with insinuations. She’d run like hell then, for damn sure.
Lunch was a riotous affair, with Little Luke taking center stage and passed from one set of hands to another. Cori was barely able to finish her meal before he started squalling for his. She situated herself on the sofa and reached out as Luke handed him to her.
“Here you go. He should be exhausted from being passed around with all this chattering going on at the table.”
She pulled him close, covered herself and the baby’s face with a blanket before placing him on her breast.
Luke turned to the side. “I’ll go in the other room if it’ll make it easier for you.”
“Please stay. I—I don’t care to be alone right now. I don’t know. Being around people makes me feel better.” She pointed to the opposite end of the sofa. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He made himself comfortable—or as comfortable as he could be with a woman two feet away from him and breastfeeding. Not exactly porn . . . but for some reason, watching her had an unexpected semi-erotic effect on him.
Just when he thought he’d corralled his lascivious thoughts, he imagined that Little Luke was his son. The thought and subsequent tightening of his groin area had him reaching for one of his mom’s many throw pillows to cover his lap. Confident in his coverage, he turned to face her. “So, what were your plans for the rest of the week, had you not gone into labor when you did?”
“I’d planned to . . .” Her gaze lowered and she snorted with laughter.
“What?” He looked down, turned his head to read the stitching on the pillow. “Sassy, Classy, and a Bit Smart Assy?” He shook his head. “What the hell, Mom?” He flipped it over as quickly as he could. “You were saying?” She only laughed harder. He looked down again and read the opposite side of the pillow. “Feminism is the radical notion that women are more than their . . .” He paused, squinted to make out the stitching, “hoo-hoos?” He looked up. “What the hell is a hoo-hoo?”
Cori shattered, laughing so hard the women ventured in from the dining room to check on her.
“What’s going on?” Melissa asked.
He held up the pillow. “What the hell is a hoo-hoo?”
Melissa joined her sister in laughter. Lee managed to hold it down to a chuckle. Head cocked, she grinned at her brother. “Seriously, Luke—you need to ask?”
“Well, I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of a hoo-hoo.”
Cori snorted again. “Quit saying it!”
“What—”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, a hoo-hoo’s a vagina, Luke!” Dolores interjected.
Lee stood there shaking her head at her brother. “What’s wrong with you that you don’t know that?”
He looked at the pillow, threw it across the room before pointing at his mother. “What’s wrong with her for having that pillow on display?”
“Hey now, that was a Christmas gift from my Secret Pal at the Red Hat Christmas party.”
He frowned at her. “Who the hell would give you such a thing?”
Dolores placed her hands on her hips. “Well if I knew that, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it, genius?”
Arthur entered the room, harrumphing. “It could have been any one of those gals.” He nudged Charles with is elbow. “Those Red Hat ladies are a bunch of twisted sisters, if you ask me.”
“Sweet Jesus!” Luke wiped his face. “The other side wasn’t much better.”
Melissa gasped, trying to catch her breath. “Well, I’ve gotta see it, now!” She reached for the pillow and laughed as she read it. “Whoever your Secret Pal is, she’s got a good sense of humor, Dolores.”
Luke stood from the couch. “I think Pop’s right. That’s a twisted sense of humor if you ask me.”
Dolores grabbed her pillow and held it to her chest. “Well, nobody did, and since when are you such a prude?”
Arthur’s hearty chuckle rumbled in the air. “That happened when he was still in high school. Lee showed Luke’s girlfriend his naked baby pictures.”
Luke shook his head. “You people need help.”
“Sounds like you’re the one who needs help, big brother—it can’t be healthy to be that repressed.”
Luke frowned. “I don’t see it as repressed, so much as—oh, I don’t know—normal?” He turned away from her, faced the living room’s picture window. The flash of black SUV had his senses prickling. Prickle morphed into full-blown alert when the blacked out glass of the front passenger window lowered. “Hit the deck!”
The following shot, sudden and explosive, shattered the picture window’s glass.
“Take cover!” He threw himself in front of Cori and the baby, wiped everything from the surface of the heavy square cocktail table, and raised it on its end as a shield. Another shot rang out, jarring the table in his hands. Revving motor and the squeal of tires followed the third shot, prompting a low string of curses from Luke. He swung around to check Cori, hunched over the baby. “Are you hit?”
She looked up, eyes wide with terror.
He released the table, and it dropped to the floor with a clamorous thud. Luke grabbed her shoulders. “Cori, are you shot?”
“No.”
He moved the blanket to check the baby’s condition. Luke was half-asleep, still latched onto his mother’s nipple, as though drive by shootings were a common occurrence in his newborn existence, certainly nothing worthy of interrupting his meal-time.
“Is anyone hurt?”
“We’re okay,” Arthur said, after checking Dolores.
“We are, too,” Charles added.
Luke assumed the two younger couples were as well, considering how fast they ran out of the room to check on the children.
Melissa came in first, carrying her toddler. “They’re fine, still watching cartoons in the spare room.”
“Son of a bitch!” Luke pulled out his phone and called his place of employment.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“Is that you, Sadia?”
“Yes. What’s your emergency?”
“It’s Luke, Sadia. We’ve got a problem here at my parent’s place. Dispatch units to 1955 Halsworth Lane in Beaumont. It’s the Buxton Estates subdivision and we’ve just had a drive-by shooting.”
“All right Luke, the dispatch is on its way, and I’ve got one confirmation, make that two confirmations already. That’s not exactly drive-by territory.”
“You’ve got that right. I brought Corrine Ritter here when I heard DaShawn Jackson escaped. Tell all units to watch for a black Cadillac SUV, late model, with dark tinted windows. I saw it earlier today. Those sons of bitches followed us here from the hospital. They fired three shots into my parents’ living room windows. In other words,” he paused to take a deep breath. “This wasn’t random.”
Within five minutes, two local police officers arrived at the door. Two minutes later, three deputies joined them. Someone from ballistics recovered the remains of three bullets, all hi-point 9 mm’s.
Luke had just given the officers in charge the complete story when Cori joined them, looking shaken, though not nearly as terrified as she had every right to be. He pulled her close for a one-armed hug. Having his arm around her felt so good, he transitioned to a full hug, careful to keep it gentle. “Are you hurting?” he whispered. “Is it time for pain medication?”
* * * *
She lay her head on his chest and returned the hug. “It’s getting there. I wanted to make sure nobody needed anything else from me before I popped a pill. I could fall asleep at any time after that.”
The deputy shook his head. “No ma’am. We’ve got everything we need from you.”
An investigator for the Beaumont P.D. gave her a grim look. “There’s nothing quite like a drive-by shooting to dampen the Christmas spirit, is there?”
She looked up, focused on the gathering of her family and Luke’s. The beautifully decorated tree took up an entire corner of the living room. The oak logs sizzled and snapped in the wood-burning fireplace, adding to the room’s ambiance, its woodsy scent combining with the fresh cut tree for a delectable aroma. She looked at her son, sleeping peacefully in the antique cradle brought down from the Oliver’s attic, dusted off and polished to a shine. The closed drapes hid the already boarded up window. Despite that and the three bullet holes in the wall and cocktail table, this place still felt more like home than her house back in Louisiana. “For most people, maybe.”
Luke saw the officers to the door and turned to face her. “They’re posting patrolmen, one in the front and another circling the block.”
“Will that be enough?”
