Authors: Marie Ferrarella
“What the hell do you know about it?” Without realizing it, the gunman loosened his hold on Mrs. Anselmo.
“You’re sweating,” Pierce told him mildly.
Pierce saw the gunman’s breathing become labored, as if he were a steam engine building up momentum. The gun he held stopped waving as he jerked it into position, aiming straight at Pierce.
“And you’re dead!”
Less than a foot away now, Pierce dropped and rolled as the gun went off. He heard someone scream. Pierce rolled himself straight into the gunman and the pregnant woman, knocking them over. Stunned, Leroy let go of Mrs. Anselmo. She cried out as she fell on top of Pierce.
Gunfire erupted. Unprotected, the would-be robber fell as police bullets struck him from three sides.
It was all over in less than five minutes.
Mrs. Anselmo was trembling and sobbing. Pierce was on his knees next to her, holding her to him, when Amanda rushed up. Police were swarming around the gunman. He was alive, but just barely. Amanda had looked at him as she passed. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen.
Ambulances that had been standing by all this time moved in. There were two, one for the gunman and one for Mrs. Anselmo.
Mr. Anselmo stumbled through the crowd, pushing people aside. “Let me through, let me through!” Paul was beside him, helping the man cut through the throng. The man threw his arms around his wife as he fell to his knees. “Oh God, Doris, are you all right?” He showered her with kisses and checked her over and over again, sobbing his relief.
“Fine, fine,” she said numbly, her own voice echoing in her head. They clung to one another like two survivors on a raft.
The Anselmos both looked at Pierce. “I don’t know how to—“ Mr. Anselmo’s voice choked off, too filled with emotion to continue.
“Then don’t.” Pierce rose to his feet. One less tragedy in the world, he thought, blocking off a surge of euphoria. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He looked at the pregnant woman just as the paramedics were lifting her onto a gurney.
She nodded, her hand spread over the wide expanse of her abdomen. “Yes, thanks to you.” The crowd swallowed the woman and her husband up as the paramedics took her to the ambulance.
Pierce turned and saw Amanda glaring at him. “Why, Mandy, you look annoyed.”
“Annoyed?” she echoed. “I’m angry as hell. You idiot,
you were trying to provoke that kid into shooting at you.”
He pretended to turn her accusation over in his mind. “I guess I kind of was, at that.”
The man was insane. “What the hell were you thinking of?”
He stretched, taking in a deep breath. It felt good, he thought. Life was always sweeter when it seemed to be in short supply. For a while there, it had looked pretty dark.
“That it wasn’t my time to die.”
She fisted her hands at her waist in order to keep from pummeling his chest in front of witnesses. “And what is that? Some kind of crummy dialogue from a grade B war movie?”
He tried to recall. “No. Old western series, actually. High Chaparral, I think.”
He grinned down into her face. Damn, but he had missed her. It had taken looking down into the barrel of a gun to admit it openly to himself. But he still wasn’t ready to deal with anything beyond the recognition of that fact.
“Why, Miss Amanda,” he drawled. “I do believe you were worried about me.”
She blew out an angry breath. It caught the end of her bangs, ruffling them. “No, I was just afraid that if you got killed, Grimsley would find a way to pin this on me, too.”
Pierce slung his arm around her shoulders. She let it remain there. “Well, it was your call into the studio that started it.” He looked over her head at Paul. “Right, Paul?”
“Right.” He raised the camcorder proudly. “Got it all!” Paul crowed. “Damn, but the competition is going to hate our guts.” He looked at Amanda. “Grimsley’s going to have to forgive you now.”
That would be giving the man credit for fair play, Amanda thought. And she knew better.
“Grimsley doesn’t have to do anything. Besides.” She looked at Pierce. Her heart had remained in her throat the entire time he had faced the gunman, but she’d be damned if she was going to admit it. “It’s the Lone Ranger’s face you got in that grandstand play, not mine.”
Pierce looked at her sympathetically. She knew better than to buy into that, too. “You were in the foreground and at the beginning of the tape.”
“That and two seventy-five will get me a ride on the subway in New York.” She patted the camera. “Get going with that,” she ordered Paul. “They’re going to want to edit the tape before going on with it again.” Their mobile had transmitted the initial live report, but Paul’s tape was going to make several editions of the news tonight and tomorrow as well.
Paul grinned and saluted her like a soldier off to run a message through enemy lines.
“You coming?” he asked Pierce.
Pierce shook his head. He’d just stared down at a gun barrel and at his own possible demise. He knew where he wanted to be right now. With her.
“No, Mandy’ll give me a ride back.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “To where?”
“The studio, when you’re ready to go there. I left my car in the lot. I haven’t been home yet. I went to the studio directly from the airport.” He looked down at her, a smile playing on his lips. “Which reminds me, you haven’t really said welcome back.”
The crowd was beginning to disperse around them. “I haven’t said much of anything yet, except that you’re an idiot.”
The way her mind worked was a complete mystery to him. “Oh, I’m an idiot for attempting to trade places with her, but when you wanted to do it, all was okay.”
She hated the patronizing tone in his voice. She didn’t have to answer to him and had no idea why she did. “I wasn’t grandstanding for the camera or trying to provoke him, you big jerk.”
He grinned at her choice of words. “You’re burning up my ears.” He grew serious. “I was trying to get him rattled so that he’d let go of her and give the police a clear shot at him.”
She refused to believe Pierce had had a plan when he’d approached the gunman. It just wasn’t his style. Amanda stuck out her chin defiantly. “Oh, had the whole thing worked out, did you?”
He didn’t know which would give him more satisfaction at the moment, clipping her one on that pretty little chin of hers, or nibbling on it instead. He did neither.
“Down to the last detail.” His eyes swept over her. “The only thing I haven’t got worked out is what’s going on between us.”
She tried not to think of how much she’d missed him, or that she should have her head examined for missing someone who was liable to break her heart.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What is going on between us?’
He sighed audibly, his arm still around her shoulders. He pulled her to him just to feel that slight jolt.
“Beats me, Mandy, beats me. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” He began to guide her away from the dwindling crowd. “Right now, let’s just enjoy the ride.” It might be all there is.
She wished she could. She wished she was the type of woman who could just enjoy the wild thrill he offered and not think about the future. But the future always had a nasty habit of arriving.
Amanda looked around at the faces in the crowd, hoping to see Carla among them. “I’ve got to find Carla. She’s here somewhere with Christopher.”
Pierce found that unusual. “Newsmaking a family event for you?”
She laughed then, the tension loosening its grip slightly. “I was having lunch with her at the restaurant when all the excitement started.”
It felt as if that had been a hundred years ago.
Amanda began to walk toward the restaurant. Pierce fell into step beside her. “I was trying to talk her out of leaving me,” she explained.
Pierce laughed to himself. “Must be that easygoing temperament of yours. I saw you rubbing that cop the wrong way before.”
Amanda looked at him. Why did she even care if anything happened to him? The answer hummed in the recesses of her mind, but she refused to reach for it.
“I wasn’t rubbing him the wrong way, and my ‘easygoing temperament,’ as you so delicately put it, has nothing to do with it. Carla’s homesick and lonely. She’s from New Mexico and she hasn’t met anyone here in the nine months we’ve been in Dallas. She’s tired of living her life through soap operas.”
“She wants a man,” he said, grinning.
She should have figured he’d be smug about it. Just because they had something hanging between their legs, men always thought they were the answer to a woman’s prayers.
“Stop grinning like you’ve just found the cure to the common cold. Yes, some members of the female population are still interested in dating.”
He cocked a brow. “But not you.”
What was the point of disagreeing? So that he could gloat? So that he could tell her he wasn’t really available? Amanda could not look at him.
“No, not me.”
“Glad to hear that, Mandy. As to your problem, why don’t you set her up with Paul,” he suggested.
“Paul?” Amanda repeated the cameraman’s name, dumbfounded.
In reply, Pierce jerked a thumb over her head in the direction of the restaurant. “I think she might like that.”
Amanda turned and saw that Carla, holding Christopher firmly by the hand, was talking to Paul. The smile she wore took up most of her face.
Chapter Twenty Seven
The drama within the tiny liquor store had been resolved more successfully than most. The gunman had been apprehended and no lives had been lost. K-DAL had gotten exclusive footage from almost the very beginning. By the time the other remote crews had arrived to cover the story, the police were clearing the scene and the excitement and suspense were over.
There was a certain glory, heady but fleeting, attached to having scooped the rival stations. Being on the scene when the story broke had made Pierce, Amanda, and Paul the momentary focal point of envy at the studio.
In the midst of the goings-on at the station, Amanda noted that Pierce had received a call from the general manager. It annoyed her that the congratulatory call had been extended to him and not her. She’d been the one to break the story. But she accepted it stoically. After all, Pierce had been the one to place himself in jeopardy to save Mrs. Anselmo.
Not that she hadn’t instigated that as well, she thought as she watched Pierce do a live commentary on the situation from the studio. Amanda had been perfectly willing to trade places with the other woman. It had been Pierce and the dour police officer who had “persuaded” her that it would be better if Pierce went in. Being bigger and stronger, Pierce had options available to him that she did not.
They were simply male chauvinists, throwing their weight around to get their way. Now that she thought about it, the chances of strong-arming a man with a gun had been remote at best; Pierce’s actions had been incredibly reckless.
The whole situation reminded Amanda how much she hated being manipulated.
Pushing the feeling aside, Amanda waited for Pierce to wrap up the commentary. When he did, they both agreed to leave.
But just as they reached the door, another call came in for him. Amanda sighed. “I can’t compete with your fan club,” she murmured as he took the call.
The adrenaline that had flowed during the hostage situation had almost completely dissipated. What was left in its wake was a deep weariness, a combination of frustration and lethargy. She needed to go home and get a little rest.
“I’ll just—“ She pointed toward the door and got no further as Pierce clamped a hand around her wrist.
“Wait,” he mouthed before speaking into the receiver. “Yes, sir, I’m listening.”
Her interest aroused, Amanda waited just out of earshot until Pierce was done. There was no point in pretending that she wasn’t curious. “What was all that about?”
He held the door open for her as they left through the rear exit. “That was the mayor’s office. There’s talk about me possibly receiving a commendation for heroism.”
The idea brought an ironic smile to his lips. Cops faced death every day. No one was handing out commendations to them. It wasn’t politically correct. And this was an election year, after all.
Amanda misread his smile. She thought it looked cocky. “Feeling pretty smug, aren’t you?” She began to walk toward her car. She’d parked close to Pierce’s vehicle.
He passed his own car and walked to hers. “Actually, yes.”
At least he was honest, she thought. Shallow, but honest. She’d hoped for more. But then, she thought, admonishing herself, she always hoped for more. She dealt with reality every day, but still insisted on fantasizing in her private life. She wondered if she’d ever change.
Amanda unlocked her car door. “So, you like all this attention?”
His expression slowly became solemn. He had no idea why he’d expected her to understand, but somehow he had. He’d assumed that she would just know how he felt. “No.”
She had meant it as a rhetorical question. She hadn’t expected a negative answer. Amanda looked at him, confused. “Then—?”
He tried to put it as simply as he could. “I like the
fact that Mrs. Anselmo is going to live to have her baby.”
It was a noble sentiment. Just when she thought she had him pegged, he surprised her.
Amanda shook her head. “I don’t understand you. You stomp through life, not giving a damn about anything, or anyone, disregarding all the rules and treating women as if they were tissues to be used and tossed away. And then you say something like this, and confuse the hell out of me.”
“Hold it,” he ordered, closing his hands on her arms to stop the flow of words. “Just hold it.”
He looked so fierce, Amanda had no idea what he was going to say.
“I don’t start up lasting relationships, Mandy,” he corrected, annoyed at her flippant way of labeling him. He expected her to know better, just by being with him. “I’ve never used and discarded anyone. The women I’ve spent time with weren’t the home-and-hearth kind. They didn’t want strings any more than I did.” His eyes pinned her, daring her to prove him wrong. “Any more than you apparently do.”