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  Shot Through the Heart

  Copyright © 2015 by Diane Benefiel

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-795-0

  Cover art by Tibbs Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  Shot Through the Heart

  By

  Diane Benefiel

  ~Dedication~

  To my family, with their love and support nothing is impossible.

  Chapter One

  John got out of his truck and glanced around the neighborhood. Several of the homes looked like they’d been restored, and the street appeared neat and tidy. He eyed the Craftsman bungalow as he approached. Bare wood showed where window trim had been stripped. Maybe the woman did the work herself—a heck of a job for anyone. A pole sander and can of wood putty sat near the screen door, the front door open behind it. He pressed the bell then stuck his hands in his back pockets to wait. A monster dog—a German shepherd—launched itself against the screen door, barking furiously, and John stepped back.

  A woman’s voice came from inside. “Down, Cooper! Sit.”

  The dog sat, alert, attention focused on him through the screen. A figure approached from another room, phone to an ear. “There’s someone at my door, Lily. Yes, yes. I’ll cover your shift. Uh huh. No problem. Bye.”

  She peered through the screen. “May I help you?”

  “John Davidson, ma’am. I spoke to a Rane Smith about an apartment for rent.”

  The woman opened the door and stepped out. The shepherd, purebred by the look of him, nosed around her to sniff at his jeans. John put a hand down for the dog to smell then lifted his gaze to study the dog’s owner. Rane Smith. This was the first time he’d seen her other than in photos. Dark hair, longer now, framed an interesting face just about swallowed by sea-green eyes. Pretty, lean, athletic. Sure didn’t look like the type to hook up with drug smugglers.

  She stuck the cell phone in her back pocket and held out her hand. “I’m Rane Smith.”

  He shook, smiled, played the part. “This is a nice neighborhood. I like the street.”

  “I’ll be honest with you. This is a decent area, but we still live in a big city and close to downtown. There have been a few break-ins. The neighbors watch out for each other, though, and aren’t afraid to call the police.” Her voice had a throaty quality that reminded him of Sheryl Crow.

  “That’s good.”

  She studied him. “I like to know something about who I’m renting to, so tell me about yourself, John. On the phone, you said you’re ex-military.”

  He launched into his carefully constructed bio. His number one rule was to stick as close to the facts as possible to avoid screwing up. Hence, John David Garretson became John Davidson. “Yes, ma’am. US Army. I did two tours in Afghanistan then decided that was enough. I’m training to become a firefighter.”

  She leaned back against the porch rail, reaching down to tug on the dog’s ears. “Do you have family in Seattle?”

  “No. My family is in California.”

  “So you didn’t want to live near your family? Why Seattle?”

  John stooped to rub the dog’s head then straightened. She was asking a lot of questions, but, he figured, in her position, he’d do the same. “I grew up here. My parents moved to California to be near my sister and her family, but I wanted to come back to Seattle after the service. I like the rain.” Except for his brother still living in the city, all true enough.

  She flashed a smile, revealing dimples. Very pretty.

  “Well, you’ll get plenty of rain here. I’ll show you the apartment, and if you’re still interested after you see it, we can talk some more.”

  Her open expression was at odds with the image he’d formed from reading her profile. John wondered which was the true Rane Smith. The profile had been sketchy, but her relationship with a member of the DiNardo drug family couldn’t be disputed.

  At his nod, Rane turned and followed the half-painted porch around the corner of the house. They went down a short set of steps and along the side of the house past a door—John guessed to the kitchen—then up an outside flight of stairs to the second floor. From the top, he could see a distant glint of the Sound. It looked like part of the second story had been converted to an apartment with the outside entrance added on. She pulled a key out of her pocket and opened the door, the dog following her in.

  Undercover work didn’t bother him. You lied to people, got them to trust you; you used them if you had to, and all for the job. But he felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Her face had revealed warmth and humor and made him feel like a jerk for lying to her. He shook his head and took a mental step back. Looks often deceived, and the end game would make the lies and deception all worth it.

  He acted like any potential tenant, even though there was no way he was going to let this opportunity pass. The challenge of keeping watch on Rane Smith had become a whole lot simpler when he’d discovered her apartment for rent. It put him exactly where he wanted to be—close. He went through the motions of checking out the bathroom and bedroom.

  “The kitchen is small, so if you’re a gourmet chef, you’ll be disappointed.”

  John laughed. “Not likely. This’ll do fine.” He opened the refrigerator, standard size, thank God, and examined the range—one of those combo deals with the stove and oven together. He noticed the smell of fresh paint. “Did you do the painting yourself?” He hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with a handyman underfoot.

  Dimples flashed again, giving him a little pull on the attraction meter.

  “I do what I can myself. I think it turned out okay.”

  She’d picked out good colors. He liked the pale green contrasted with white crown molding and wide baseboards. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Looks nice.”

  “If you rent the apartment, you’ll have access to the laundry room off my kitchen.”

  He closed a cupboard and angled toward her
. His kept his stance open and non-threatening, hands on his hips, expression neutral. All designed to gain trust. “Did you have a chance to call the references I put on my application?”

  “Yes, your references spoke highly of you. If you’re still interested in renting, I’ll get the paperwork together.”

  He smiled. “Great. I’ll take it.”

  ***

  Rane watched through a side window as her new tenant unloaded a truck in the driveway in the chilly early morning. He’d acted quickly once she’d done the background check and approved his application. Less than a week from their first meeting, he was moving in. He and a guy with a wild mane of blond hair had made numerous trips up and down the stairs, hefting bags, boxes, and furniture to the apartment. It hadn’t looked like much, but maybe, being in the military, he hadn’t accumulated a whole lot. She’d intended to rent to a woman—it just seemed safer—but John’s application had revealed what any landlord would want. He was reliable, had a good credit history, excellent character references, and no criminal background. Almost too good to be true.

  The men hoisted barbells with some serious weights up the stairs. Hmm. Guess that explains the good shoulders and flat belly. Not that she’d noticed. Much. She frowned as a thought struck her. Put the powerful build together with the military training, and he might feel comfortable sticking his nose into things better left alone.

  Wonderful. Another worry on top of the one that had been staring her in the face for the past few months. Kyle would get out in five days. After Sunday, she’d have to start looking over her shoulder, checking the backseat of the car before getting in. Do that paranoid recheck before bed to be sure she’d locked all the doors and windows. Or maybe he’d leave her alone. Perhaps he never realized her involvement in setting him up for a crime he hadn’t committed. Maybe he’d given up on the idea that they were soul mates, a match destined by the stars. It was all such a complicated mess. And if he’d figured out she was behind sending him to prison for the past three years, he could have a completely different reason for coming after her. And when he was done with her, he could just as easily go after her dad.

  Moving away from Seattle and the DiNardo’s sphere of influence, finding someplace safer, hadn’t been feasible. Her father’s illness had prevented that. His doctors, his friends, everything he knew was here. So, instead, she’d put together what she called her “what if” scenarios. What if Kyle broke into her house? What if he came to the hospital while she was working? What if he found her father? The best she was able, she’d devised plans to keep them both safe. The trapdoor that could bring the whole thing crashing down was the police. What had once been the backbone of her support system was now to be avoided at all costs. Whatever happened, she had to handle it herself; calling the police was simply not an option.

  Forcing herself to stop chewing on her bottom lip, Rane let Cooper into the house before gathering her backpack. She made sure the dog door was unlocked and grabbed her cell phone and keys. Ready for her shift, she reached down and rubbed Cooper along his neck.

  “You be good, baby. Don’t open the door for any bad guys.”

  He hung his head then slumped down to lie on the floor, nose on his paws. She just knew he did that to make her feel guilty about leaving him.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I gotta go to work, make the money to pay for those gourmet doggie treats.” Cooper pretended to ignore her. “Great. Another guilt trip.” She wondered if she was the only person who had conversations with her dog. Or believed the dog understood every word.

  She let herself out the kitchen door to Cooper’s muffled whine, locking the knob and deadbolt behind her. John jogged down the stairs from his apartment. She should have kept moving, but found herself waiting for him instead. Everything about him was low-key and shouldn’t even raise an eyebrow, but she felt there was more to him than he let on. He was so watchful. That dark blue gaze seemed to take in every detail of his environment, and he possessed an underlying intensity that belied the laid-back image he projected. He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, and she wondered if the meeting was coincidental.

  She studied him, trying to figure out what was setting her senses buzzing. A faded army T-shirt over a white thermal showed off those excellent shoulders. Faded denim jeans fit just right. Short black hair and deep blue eyes over killer cheekbones and a short scar on his chin all added elements that gave her a little tug. Made her wish she was just what she appeared on the surface.

  “Hey. Going to work?” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, tucking his hands in his pockets.

  Rane looked down at her dark green scrubs. For warmth, she’d added a cream-colored long-sleeved T-shirt underneath. “What gave it away?”

  He smiled, showing not-quite-straight teeth. “The dog. Sounds like he knows you’re not just going to the mailbox.”

  Cooper whined again, and she nodded. “Yeah. He lets me know he’s not happy when I’m going to work. If I’m going to be gone a long time I leave the doggy door unlocked so he can get out. He’ll be fine in a few minutes.” She backed away with a wave and headed down the driveway. “See you.”

  “Wait. Isn’t your car in the garage? You need a ride?”

  She called out without turning back. “Walking today.” With Kyle getting out of prison soon, that little freedom would disappear.

  Eight blocks later, Rane let herself in the employee entrance at the back of the hospital. She cleared the inner security door, immersing herself in the sounds and smells of St. Augustine’s, her world for the next twelve hours. After dumping her stuff in her locker, she pushed through swishing doors and into the emergency room.

  An OD, a skateboarder with a broken arm, and a child with an ear infection kept her busy for the next couple of hours. It was longer than that before she found twenty minutes for her first break. She pumped quarters into the vending machine and listened to her can of soda clunk down, hoping it wouldn’t wake Dr. Grayson, who lay zonked out on the long vinyl-covered sofa. He didn’t look very comfortable. She leaned against a table, looking out the window into the late afternoon sky, and drank her dose of caffeine cold.

  Lily came in through the swinging doors, clutching a paper bag. Her best friend as well as co-worker, Lily had completed Certified Emergency Nurse training with her.

  “Here’s your sandwich. Better eat fast. I heard there’s a multi-car that includes a commuter bus on the five. We’re about to get slammed.”

  Rane took the sandwich and sat at the table. “Do you think we should wake Dr. G?”

  Lily looked over her shoulder at the sleeping man. Their secret was that the G wasn’t for Grayson but for gorgeous, a designation for which the doctor was highly qualified. “No.” Lily talked around her bite of sandwich. “They’ll come looking for him soon enough. Let him sleep.”

  Lily looked out for the doctor. She’d been in lust with him for months, and, despite Rane pushing her to at least flirt with the guy, she’d done nothing. Somehow Lily had convinced herself that being ethnically diverse was something the doctor wouldn’t go for. “Sam Grayson goes for blondes,” Lily had told her.

  Lily didn’t recognize how well that ethnically diverse combination worked on her. The mixture of Chinese, Hispanic, and white had resulted in beautiful skin tone of the lightest amber, exotically tilted golden-brown eyes, and a fit body with curves Rane secretly envied.

  She swallowed the last of her sandwich just as the call came over the speaker. “That’s us.”

  ***

  When Rane finally left the hospital, the sun lay low across Puget Sound, silhouetting the rugged outline of the Olympic Peninsula. She liked walking home at the end of her shift. In late September, the city pulsed with people jamming in outdoor time before fall brought the rain. Bicyclists pumped up the hill in vivid jerseys while a man pushed twin girls in a baby jogger.

  Passing cafés and shops, Rane caught snatches of conversation and the flicker of candlelight. She relaxed, enjoying the cool br
eeze bringing the smells of the wharf. She trudged up a hill then a few blocks north to where the buildings transitioned from business to residential. Traffic thinned, and she turned onto her street. The whoops and yelling of children playing outside carried from a few houses away. She waved to an elderly couple sitting on a porch swing, holding hands. Turning up her walkway, she thought if she could summon the energy to make dinner, maybe she’d eat out on her porch in a padded wicker chair.

  “Hey.”

  Rane jumped, heart in her throat, the can of pepper spray out of her pocket, and her finger on the pump before she could form a coherent thought.

  “Whoa. Steady there.” The figure sitting on her top step rose from the shadows, hands up.

  “John.” His name escaped from her in a rush. Not Kyle. John. Kyle was still in prison.

  “Yeah. Do you mind taking your finger off the trigger? I was sprayed with that stuff in the army. I could do without it tonight.”

  “Okay.” Breathing deep to settle her racing heart, she lowered the can. “What are you doing out here? You really startled me.”

  “Sorry. Just enjoying the evening.” He cocked his head at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Sorry about that. I got in the habit of carrying pepper spray when a friend got mugged. I’ve never had to use it.”

  His smile remained easy, but Rane had the distinct impression he was being careful so she wouldn’t threaten to blind him again. “Can I get you a beer?”

  She considered the offer. She didn’t get any weird vibes from him. Just friendly I’m-a-nice guy-so-don’t-pepper-spray-me kind of vibes. “Okay. A beer sounds good.”

  “Great. Back in a second.”

  He jogged around the corner of the house, and pounded up the stairs. A whine sounded from inside, and she unlocked her door to greet a joyous Cooper. Leaving the door open to capture the evening breeze, she dumped her backpack and keys and let the dog out onto the porch so he could be with her. She was being stupid. Feeling attracted to John was exactly why she shouldn’t sit outside having a beer with him. She didn’t do relationships, especially with her possibly dangerous ex about to get out of prison. But John didn’t seem interested in her that way. Besides, she could hardly back out now without feeling awkward. Rane stepped back onto the porch just as he returned holding two open bottles by their long necks.