There's Only Been You (24 page)

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I remember.” He looked up at his father and said in a conspiratorial manner, “Girls cry about stupid stuff sometimes. You'll get used to it."

Mike couldn't help but grin. “I'm sure I will."

"Hey, do you wanna come down to our house and play my new video game? I can already beat Uncle Nicky at it, and he gets really grumpy."

"I'd love to see that, believe me. But I'll have to take a rain check. There're a few things I need to take care of tonight."

Sara gazed up at him. “Oh, well, we'd better get going then. Will we, uh, see you tomorrow?"

Mike knew that look. She wanted to know exactly what it was he had to do tonight. Unfortunately, he had to keep her in the dark a while longer.

"Absolutely. We can head over to that furniture store in Pulaski, try to find something for the living and dining rooms. Oh, and I also need to pick up a few television sets, so maybe we could hit Best Buy, too."

"Yeah, you gotta buy a big one for my room,” Ethan said, casting a surreptitious glance at his mother.

"It's up to your father whether or not he wants you to have a television in your room."

Mike wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was this some sort of test? He eyed Sara suspiciously before replying, “I don't see why you shouldn't have one in your room. But nothing too big. Maybe a twenty-inch."

"Are you gonna buy a big-screen for your room?” Ethan asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Nah, not for my bedroom. But I might put one down in the rec room,” he admitted, grinning.

"Cool! We can hook my Playstation up to it. Just wait till you see how awesome it looks on a big screen."

"All right, Ethan, we'd better get going so your father can get to ... whatever it is he needs to get to."

Mike picked Ethan up in his arms and squeezed the stuffing out of him. Ethan leaned back and asked, “When can I sleep in my new bunk beds?"

"Well, if it's all right with your mother, how about tomorrow night?” They both looked to Sara for an answer.

She reached up and tweaked Ethan's nose. “Tomorrow night will be fine."

"Mom, you could spend the night, too. You and Dad slept together at the hotel, so he already knows you kick in your sleep."

Mike snickered and Sara coughed to cover up a laugh. “I think I'll let you two guys have the night to yourself. Maybe I'll send down some treats, though, just so you don't starve."

"How about fried chicken? That's my favorite. And chocolate chip cookies for dessert!"

"Sounds good to me,” Mike said. He gave Ethan one last squeeze before setting him on his feet. “Now, you'd better close your eyes, because I have every intention of giving your mother a kiss."

And as Ethan groaned, Mike took Sara into his arms and laid one on her.

He watched Sara and Ethan head home with a heavy heart and an ache in his gut. Damn, it was hard watching them go. They were
his
family and should be living under
his
roof. With a sigh, he shut the door and headed for the bathroom. He was covered in dust and grime and desperately needed a shower.

Twenty minutes later, Mike hopped in his truck and drove to his parents’ house to see if the painters had finished the job. They'd assured him the entire house would be painted by today, and Mike prayed they were true to their word. The sooner he sold the place, the sooner he could move forward with his life. He had a son to take care of now and, hopefully soon, a wife.

The painters’ van was parked in the driveway, but when Mike walked through the door, he realized they were packing up. He'd send the realtor an email tonight, and hopefully there'd be a ‘For Sale’ sign staked in the front yard by tomorrow afternoon.

Mike walked through the house to inspect their work and was satisfied enough to write them a check on the spot. He walked through the house again once they left, but this time a chill ran through him as a vision of his mother's beautiful face swam before him. God, how he missed her. He regretted so much the horrors she'd had to live through. Also, that she hadn't lived long enough to meet her first grandchild. She would have adored Ethan.

Which reminded him, the boxes full of his mother's things were still down in the basement. After loading them into the back of his truck, he glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. Mike climbed in his truck and headed for Jason's apartment.

He spotted Jason's truck as he drove past his building and breathed a sigh of relief. He flipped a U-turn at the end of the block, parked in the lot across the street, and killed the engine. Hopefully, he wouldn't have long to wait.

Jason watched from an angle out his bedroom window as Andrews pulled into the parking lot across the street to wait him out.

He nodded, satisfied. In just a few minutes, he'd lead the poor bastard to the corner of Military and Vine, where Jimmy was already waiting. Once Jimmy took care of Jamison and Andrews, Jason would take care of Jimmy, and there wouldn't be a single shred of evidence to tie him to the murders.

His story was perfect. He and Jamison met up for a beer and a game of darts when some maniac opened fire on them in the parking lot. Before Jason could even pull his gun, Jamison and a third guy he'd never seen before were dead, and Jason had shot and killed the perpetrator.

There'd probably be some suspicion, especially from Jamison's family, but they were the least of his worries at the moment. And in a few weeks, he'd be transferred to another police department, in another state, where he'd play the model officer until he was sure DCI didn't have anything on him.

Jason stuck his pistol into its holster inside his flannel shirt, grabbed his keys off the table, and headed down to the parking lot with grim determination.

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Garrett stood bare-chested in front of the bathroom mirror, combing his damp hair, when someone knocked at the door. “Come in, it's open."

Ethan sauntered in and propped his elbows on the sink and his face in his hands. He watched Garrett comb his hair and put on deodorant before asking, “Uncle Garrett, will you cancel your date with Jason and go out with me instead? We could go to that arcade again."

Garrett grinned down at him. “First of all, I don't have a ‘date’ with Jason, silly. I'm going to meet him for a drink and to shoot some darts."

"Well, that's what Mom said. She told my dad that you and Jason are going on a date."

Garrett laughed. “I'll have a talk with your mother later. A date is something you do with a girl, sport."

"Oh.” Ethan shrugged. “Well, whatever you wanna call it, could you cancel and spend the night with me instead?"

"Ethan, what's going on here?"

"Nothing. I just wanna hang out with you, that's all. And my dad had some stuff to take care of, so I got nothing else to do."

Garrett tried not to take it to heart that boredom was the main reason Ethan had sought him out. “Bored out of your skull, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. But, also, you're the best at Combat Commando, and I really feel like playing it at the arcade. We can get some pizza, too."

Garrett gazed down at him, hands on hips. “You know I'd much rather spend my time with you, sport. But it wouldn't be nice to cancel on Jason. He's still pretty new in town and doesn't have that many friends.

"Well, he could come with us. They have dartboards at the arcade. And we could show him how to play Combat Commando. Skeeball, too."

Garrett considered it. Hell, Jason seemed to like Ethan, and Garrett already told him he had no intention of drinking tonight. And let's face it, it didn't matter how old a man was, the minute he walked through the doors of an arcade, he was instantly ten years old again.

"You know, I think that's a great idea. We'll go meet up with Jason, and I'll have him follow us to the arcade. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of it."

Mike followed Jason from a safe distance behind, half expecting to be led to that dump T&R's Place. Instead, he headed several miles south on Velp Avenue and turned into the parking lot of a little dive set a good quarter mile back from the road. Mike rode past, then doubled back around, giving Jason plenty of time to exit his truck and enter the bar. Mike pulled into a spot out of eyeshot of the door and killed the engine.

The lot was less than half full, and Mike did a quick sweep to make sure every vehicle was empty. Then he hunkered down and waited for Garrett to show up.

He didn't have long to wait. Less than five minutes later, Garrett pulled into the lot and parked right alongside Jason's truck.

Out of his peripheral vision, Mike saw the glint of something shiny as it reflected off the last of the fading sunlight. He swung his head just in time to see an arm unfold and a figure step out from behind the stand of trees that ran the length of the back lot. The figure held a gun, and it was pointed directly at Garrett's truck.

As if in slow motion, Mike watched Garrett step out of the truck only to reveal he hadn't come alone. There, sitting in the passenger seat, was Ethan.

Dear God! Mike shoved his door open and jumped out of the truck. He aimed his pistol, fired, and heard the figure cry out right as a second shot rent the air. He swung back around and saw Garrett clutch his right side before diving back inside his truck. Mike raced across the parking lot as he dialed 9-1-1 on his cell phone.

He yanked the driver's side door open and crouched down. Garrett lay sprawled across the seat, shielding Ethan with his body. “Ethan, son, I need you to get down on the floor. Everything's going to be fine, I promise."

"D-dad?” Ethan sounded on the verge of hysteria; tears streamed down his face. Mike wished he could take him in his arms and comfort him, but it would have to wait.

"Yeah, it's me. You're being a very brave boy, Ethan. I'm proud of you. Garrett, how bad is it?"

Once Ethan was curled up on the floor of the truck, Garrett attempted to pull up his shirt. Mike assisted and breathed a huge sigh of relief. The bullet had merely grazed his side, although quite a chunk of flesh was missing. Mike knew it had to hurt like hell.

"Hey, it's only a scratch, you big baby,” Mike said, trying to take Garrett's mind off the pain and reassure Ethan at the same time. “I've nicked myself worse than that shaving."

Garrett managed a strangled laugh. “It feels like someone set fire to me. Ethan? Sport, are you okay? Don't cry, please don't cry. I'm fine, I swear I am."

"But you're bleeding a lot, Uncle Garrett. It's all over m-my shirt."

Mike heard the sirens and muttered, “About goddamn time."

"Sorry about that, sport,” Garrett said. “You're wearing your favorite Spiderman shirt, too. Don't worry. I'll buy you a new one."

"I don't care about my dumb ol’ shirt."

Ethan attempted to sit up, but Mike put a hand on his head and insisted, “Stay down, son. Just to be safe. I promise you, your uncle's going to be fine. He'll probably be crabby for a few days, but then you're already used to that, aren't you?"

Ethan nodded, the solemn look on his face breaking Mike's heart.

The wail of the sirens became so loud that Ethan clapped his hands over his ears. An ambulance pulled into the parking lot, as well as two squad cars, all of them surrounding Garrett's truck.

Mike climbed out, and as the paramedics took care of Garrett, he turned to the nearest officer and flashed his badge. “Detective Mike Andrews with the Oak Lawn Police Department, south of Chicago. I'm going after the shooter. I'm sure I hit him and, if I did more than clip him, he may be lying right behind those trees."

"I'm coming with you,” the officer said, pulling out his pistol.

They approached the area from different sides, and Mike cursed when he realized the bastard had managed to escape. But as they searched a little further into the woods, he spotted him, lying face down over a huge rock. His gun had slipped from his hand and was dangling from his trigger finger. Mike knelt down, flipped him over, and fury filled his heart. Jimmy Montgomery. Which meant Jason had set Garrett up for an ambush.

And Ethan had come within a hair's breadth of taking a bullet himself.

The thought brought on a wave of nausea so strong he nearly doubled over. He took a couple of slow, deep breaths until the urge passed, then reached down and carefully plucked the gun from Jimmy's finger.

Mike's shot had hit him in the chest, on the left side just below his collarbone. He felt for a pulse and blew out a relieved breath when he found one. They needed Jimmy alive so he could testify against Thomas in court. Mike had heard enough of their conversation last Saturday night to know Jimmy was key in nailing Thomas to the wall. But the question remained, why the hell had they gone after Garrett?

The officer with him called for one of the paramedics to come take care of Jimmy. Mike rose to his feet and returned to Garrett's truck. Ethan had calmed down considerably and was curled up against Garrett's good side.

"Are you all right?” Mike asked his son as he approached.

Ethan looked up in surprise, as if in all the excitement he'd forgotten Mike was there. He rubbed his eyes and said, “Yeah, I'm okay. But Uncle Garrett's gotta go to the hospital. Mom's gonna be really mad when she finds out Uncle Garrett got shot."

Mike looked up and caught sight of Jason who was busy talking with one of the officers.

After a few minutes, he came up on Garrett's other side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are one lucky man, my friend. What in the world happened?"

It took every bit of Mike's self-control not to throw the SOB up against the truck and beat the living shit out of him. “Someone took a shot at him from over in those trees. Luckily, I was able to wing the guy before he pulled the trigger, so his shot was off. But we've got him, and it looks like he's going to live."

Jason spared Mike a quick glance. “Man, what a relief. Garrett? I take it you're going to live as well?"

Garrett smiled through clenched teeth. “Yeah, I'll live. Ain't nothing a bottle of brandy and some pain killers won't cure."

"Pain killers, yes,” the paramedic bandaging his side said, “But not mixed with alcohol. Got it?"