Jennifer Crusie Bundle Read online

The back door opened again and Matthews came in, followed by the four dogs.

  “Don’t let them into the living room, there’s glass all over.” Lucy moved around Zack to stop them, while Matthews watched her with great appreciation.

  “Okay, that’s it,” Zack said. “Excuse us.” He pushed Lucy into the dining room and picked up her jeans. “Get dressed. And you, sit,” he said to the dogs who obediently sat down in a row, Pete a beat behind the rest. Then he picked Lucy up and carried her through the living room to the bottom of the stairs, crunching glass as he went. “Go,” he said, putting her on the bottom step. “And don’t come down again until you’re wearing shoes.”

  “The dogs,” she said, but there were more people coming through the front windows, so she turned and ran upstairs while Zack watched, scowling.

  Then he went back to the dining room and carried the dogs to the stairs, one by one, while Lucy stood at the top and called to them, shutting them in the attic so they wouldn’t go back down. Maxwell, Heisenburg, and Pete enjoyed the trip, but Einstein weighed about eighty pounds and was not happy about being carried. Several people in the forensics unit applauded when Zack finally got him to the stairs.

  Lucy called to Einstein and then grinned down at Zack, and he forgot to be mad. “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” he told her, still scowling for effect.

  Then he turned back to the mess in the living room.

  “Somebody doesn’t like you much,” one of the technicians said. “Three .38s, right through the front windows.”

  “I don’t like him much, either,” Zack said. “The difference is, I’m the good guy and I’m going to win.”

  ANTHONY STOOD WITH Zack in the wreckage of the living room when everyone else had left.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Zack said. “We could have been killed. This wasn’t a scare thing. This guy wanted us dead. Or at least me dead. He may not have seen Lucy stripping in the dining room. It was dark in there and he was looking through lace curtains. He was shooting at me.”

  Anthony turned to him, interested. “Lucy was stripping?”

  “Yeah. This guy is one hell of a chaperon.” Zack scowled. “This was not John Bradley. This was Bradley Porter. Whether John Bradley read about the bonds or not, this was Bradley Porter.”

  Anthony shook his head. “You’ve got Bradley Porter on the brain. This is our same guy, trying to scare Lucy out. I’m going to lean on the paper on this one. The bonds, two bombs, and all Lucy’s windows gone should be newsworthy enough for the front page.”

  “It won’t matter. It was Bradley Porter,” Zack said. “I’ll make sure Lucy doesn’t go to work tomorrow, just in case. But it was Bradley Porter.”

  IT WAS ALMOST TWO before Zack crawled into bed beside Lucy, shoving Maxwell and Heisenburg aside and waking her from an uneasy sleep.

  “Move,” he said. “I’m freezing.”

  Lucy, still foggy with sleep, rolled against him, wrapping her warmth around him, and the three smaller dogs settled against his back and across his feet. When he put his arm around her, he could feel Einstein radiating heat against her back.

  “You okay?” Lucy asked groggily.

  “As long as I don’t try to move. It’s a little crowded in here.” He put his cheek against her hair and held her close. “I’m sorry I scared you, honey.”

  “Me, too,” Lucy said sleepily. “Don’t do it again. Although I guess it makes us even.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I scared you last Saturday, you scared me today. We’re even.”

  “No, we’re not. You took ten years off my life to have your hair done. I went after a dangerous criminal. We’ll never be even.”

  “Oh, have it your own way.” Lucy shifted a little against him. “Have you got enough room?”

  Maxwell put his cold nose against Zack’s neck and made him shudder. “We’ve got to get a bigger bed.” Zack shoved the dog down away from his neck. “Or maybe we could get the kids their own room. What do you think?”

  Lucy put her cheek against his chest and held him tightly. “You know, for a while, I thought I’d never have you like this again. And I decided then, if I got you back, I’d make every minute with you count.”

  Zack lost his breath, both because of her warmth and because of the ache in her voice. “Every minute, huh? You planning on a lot of these minutes?”

  “Every one I can get.” Lucy began to kiss her way down his neck.

  The dogs spent the rest of the night on the floor.

  THEIR FIRST MONDAY argument started at six-thirty in the bathroom when Zack realized Lucy was still planning on going to work.

  “Somebody just shot out your windows,” he said, his mouth full of toothpaste while he watched her towel her hair dry. “You could have been killed.”

  “Well, in that case, it makes sense that I go to work.” Lucy spread the towel neatly over the shower rod to dry. “Why stick around someplace where somebody shoots at you?”

  She tried to move past him, but he caught at the back of her robe, stopping her.

  “Luce, it’s too dangerous—”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to school. That’s final. Whoever wants in here doesn’t want me, he wants the key, and the paper’s going to print the story on the safe-deposit box today now that the windows have been shot out. It’s over.”

  “But the shots last night—”

  Lucy got away from him by slipping out of her robe and walking out of the bathroom naked.

  “Hey,” he called after her. “I was saying something important.” He dropped the robe, rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth, and hung up his toothbrush next to Lucy’s. Remember to propose again today, he thought. Find a new approach. Then he followed her into her bedroom.

  She was wearing pink cotton underwear, and as he walked in, she pulled a fuzzy pink sweater over her head.

  “If you think you’re going to win all the arguments from now on just by being naked,” Zack told her, “you’re probably right.”

  Lucy pulled her sweater the rest of the way down and laughed, her face lit from inside with love for him.

  “At least let me meet you here after school,” he said.

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” She turned and bent to pick up her skirt from the bed.

  “How long do you have for lunch?” Zack asked, enjoying the view. “We could…”

  “Half an hour and no, we couldn’t.” Lucy turned back to him. “I get off at three-thirty. Can you wait that long?” She bent over again to step into her skirt.

  “Just exactly that long. I’ll have to speed coming home.” He reached for her as she zipped up her skirt, and she came into his arms, soft and warm and laughing again, and he held her close and thought, We can’t let go of this. Whatever happens, we’ve got to keep this.

  “I’M RUNNING LATE,” Zack said half an hour later as he let the dogs out for their morning run. He was wearing a tailored shirt and a tie, and Lucy marvelled again at what an adult he looked like when he was well dressed.

  “What?” Zack said. “You’re staring at me. What?”

  She leaned back against the sink and surveyed him carefully. “I was admiring you. You look very…adult. Sophisticated. Mature. It’s a good look for you.”

  Zack scowled. “Don’t say ‘mature.”’

  “I like the tie. It turns me on.”

  “A tie turns you on?” Zack shook his head. “You are sick.”

  “Well, I’ll try to control myself.” Lucy turned back to the sink.

  Zack turned her around and bent her back in his arms. “Never control yourself.” He kissed her long and hard, and Lucy leaned into him, drowning in the heat from his mouth on hers. When he finally let her go, he grabbed his keys and his jacket and then pulled her to him again. “We have a date at three-thirty, babe,” he said. “Don’t dress.” Then he kissed her quickly and went out the door.

  Maybe I’ll propose this afternoon, Lucy thought. At about four-thirty.
r />   The doorbell chimed while she was spreading jam on her toast.

  Zack wouldn’t ring the front door chime, so it had to be Anthony. She went to let him in.

  The man on the porch was tall, dark, and well dressed, and she’d never seen him before in her life. Lucy watched him for a moment through the stained glass in the front door and then turned away. It was rude to leave him standing there, but it was the smart thing to do.

  She went back into the kitchen and listened tensely as the doorbell chimed again. Go away, she thought, and tried to figure how she was going to get to her car with that man on the porch. He was probably only selling magazines or religion, but still…she wished that damn chime would stop…

  The door chime stopped, and Lucy sighed in relief. She shoved her toast away, her appetite gone, and began to clean up the kitchen counter, picking up Zack’s spray can of varnish last.

  And then a black-gloved fist smashed through the glass on her back door and threw the dead bolt.

  Eleven

  Lucy screamed, and then he was in the kitchen, pointing a gun at her and kicking at the barking dogs that surrounded him.

  “Don’t move,” he said, and she froze, the can of varnish in her hand.

  “The key,” he said. “All I want is the damn key.” He was tall and tense and terrifying, and his eyes burned into hers, angry and desperate.

  “It’s too late,” Lucy said, and her voice came out in a terrified whisper. “They found it. It was in the chair. They already opened the box.”

  “You’re lying,” he said through his teeth, and Lucy shook her head frantically.

  “No, it’s true. I can prove it. They counted what was in the box. There was $180,000 missing. The police have it all.”

  His jaw clenched, and she saw him clutch the gun tighter. “Then the police can give it back.”

  Lucy took a deep, deliberate breath, trying to stay calm. Somebody help me, she thought, and then she shoved the thought away and concentrated on saving herself. “You’re better off just getting away.”

  “No.” He kept the gun on her. “I can get the bonds. I’ve got you as a hostage. Where’s the phone?”

  Lucy tried to think around the terror that lapped at her brain. “That hostage stuff never works. Haven’t you seen the movies? They surround the place and bring in negotiators. You’ll never get out of here. Really, you’re better off just getting away.”

  “We’re not going to call all the police,” he said and smiled at her. It was a chilling smile that never went near his eyes, and it made the next breath she drew sound like a sob. “We’re going to call just one. Just the cop you’ve been screwing.”

  Lucy swallowed hard, too scared to be outraged. “What?”

  “The dark-haired one. Call him and tell him to bring the bonds.”

  For just a second, the bottom dropped out of Lucy’s mind, plunging her back to the night before, the darkness, and the shots, and the terror of losing Zack. “No,” she said. “There is no way I will call him here so you can shoot him. No.”

  “You don’t have any choice,” he said.

  “No.” Lucy brought the spray can in front of her and hugged it to her chest, popping the lid off as she clutched it. “No. I won’t.”

  “You don’t have any choice,” he said again. “Because I will shoot your dogs, one at a time, until you do.”

  He aimed the gun at Heisenberg, and Lucy screamed, “No!” and hurled herself at him, and the dogs screamed and leaped in response, so that when he fired the gun, the bullet missed Heisenberg and went harmlessly into the floor.

  By then, Lucy was on top of him with the only weapon she had. And when he jerked his head up to her, raising the gun at the same time, she sprayed him full in the face with the varnish.

  He stumbled backward, screaming and clawing at his eyes with his free hand, tripping backward over Einstein who had leaped behind him at the sound of the shot, propelled by Pete who didn’t have the upbringing of the other three dogs and who went for his throat.

  Lucy shoved past him in her scramble to get to the back door. She grabbed the baseball bat as she landed against the wall, and then, without thinking, while he tried to fight Pete off and clear his eyes, she swung the bat as hard as she could and connected solidly with the side of his head.

  His head made a sound like a melon dropped from a great height, and he toppled over.

  Lucy yelled for the dogs and flung open the back door, and when they were safely over him and out, she ran out after them and stumbled next door to Mrs. Dover’s.

  The old woman opened the door before Lucy could knock and stood there, scowling at her.

  “I have to call the police,” Lucy said, breathing hard, trying not to tremble. “A man just broke into my house and tried to kill me.”

  But Mrs. Dover had already swung the door open wider. “Get in here. I already called them. Gunshots. What’s the world coming to?” She was saying all the words she always said, but there was no venom this time. She patted Lucy’s arm awkwardly, frowning at her. “Is he still looking for you? Should we hide?”

  Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t think so. I sprayed him with varnish and hit him with a baseball bat.”

  “Good for you,” Mrs. Dover said, still scowling. “Want some tea?”

  ZACK HAD JUST REACHED the door to the squad room when Matthews grabbed him. “Shots and screams at your place. It’s Bradley. Falk’s already there. I just waited to tell you. Go.”

  And Zack had gone, his heart frozen and his breath stolen.

  Shots and screams.

  His place.

  And then he was there, and there was an ambulance, and he parked the car crazily against the curb and ran to find out how badly she was hurt.

  That was when he saw her standing on Mrs. Dover’s cement porch.

  “I’m okay,” she called to him, but he went to her anyway, holding her carefully to reassure himself that he hadn’t lost her.

  TWO HOURS LATER, THINGS were calmer, but Zack wasn’t.

  “What does he say?” Zack said, pacing back and forth through Lucy’s living room.

  “He doesn’t say anything,” Anthony said. He was stretched out in one of the overstuffed chairs, collapsed more from relief than from tiredness. “He’s in surgery for a cracked skull. God knows what the varnish did to his eyes. Lucy really did a job on him. And more power to her. He’s John Bradley, all right.”

  Zack stopped pacing. “We’ve got that for sure?”

  Anthony nodded. “We’ve got it for sure. The Bergmans identified him. With great pleasure. I’ll tell you, between Lucy and his in-laws, anything we do to him in court is going to be superfluous.”

  “We’re still going to do it to him. What about the gun?”

  “A .38. It’s a match.”

  “So that’s it?” Zack said.

  “Well, we still need to talk to Bradley Porter,” Anthony pointed out. “He has some explaining to do. But he didn’t steal the bonds, and he didn’t shoot Bianca. He’s important, but not like this guy. The worst is over.”

  “Great,” Zack said.

  Anthony sighed and pushed himself out of the chair to stand in front of Zack. “I know what’s bothering you. You weren’t here for Lucy. But you couldn’t have been here. He was waiting for you to leave so he could get her. You protected her as well as you could. And she’s fine.”

  Zack hunched his shoulders. “Yeah, I know she’s fine.” He turned and walked away to drum his fingers on the mantel. “Tony, this whole thing stinks. Every instinct I’ve got says we screwed up.”

  “How?” Anthony demanded. “We’ve got John Bradley. We’ve got a bullet match, we’ve got him attacking Lucy, we’ve got him tied to the plastic explosive…. Hell, we’ve got everything but videotapes. He was trying to get Lucy to get the key. She got him first, thank God. It’s over.”

  “No,” Zack said stubbornly.

  “Fine.” Anthony shook his head. “I give up. You and your instincts stew
. I’m leaving. I haven’t had a full day off since I met Lucy, and I need one. I’m going back to do the report on this, and then I’m going home. If you need me, call.” He turned to the door.

  Lucy came in from the kitchen with two beers. “I know you’re on duty—”

  “Right.” Zack took one of the cans.

  “Thank you, Rambette, but no,” Anthony said. “I’m just leaving, and regardless, I want all my reflexes sharp in case you attack.”

  “Don’t laugh,” Lucy said. “It was awful.”

  “I should have been here,” Zack said and his voice cracked.

  Lucy shook her head as she went to him. “It was awful, but I’m glad I did it. He tried to destroy my house. He tried to hurt my dogs. I’m glad I took care of it.” She put her arms around him and looked up at him while he stared down at her miserably. “I wanted to be the one to handle it. That was important. I didn’t know it until it was over, but it was.”

  “It’s bad for my ego.” Zack cradled her face with one hand while he pulled her closer. He brushed her cheek gently with his thumb and tried to grin, but he was tense still.

  Anthony broke in. “Fortunately, as we all know, your ego has miraculous powers of recovery. And by the way, Lucy, I almost forgot. We got you something.”

  “We?” Lucy said, turning to him, and Zack said, “We who?”

  “We everybody. Wait here.” Anthony went out to the hall and brought back a long thin package. “It’s from all of us—Falk, Matthews, Forensics. We all signed it.”

  Lucy stepped away from Zack and took the package. She opened one end and tipped out a brand-new baseball bat covered with scribbled signatures. “You’re kidding! You all got this for me?”

  Anthony grinned at her. “Actually, Forensics felt guilty about taking your bat as evidence, so I went out and got one about an hour ago. Everybody’s signed it except Zack, and I’m sure he’ll get to it later.”

  “Sure,” Zack said.

  Anthony studied him carefully. “You coming back to the station today?”

  Zack nodded without looking at him. “In a minute.”