Hellcat

Chapter 42

I knew that nothing would happen at the hospital until later tonight, so I waited at home. The more I thought about what happened at the courthouse, the more I had this aching feeling in my gut that it wasn't right. My phone buzzing pulled me from my thoughts. I snatched it off the coffee table and checked the caller ID before answering. "Hey, what's up?" I asked, leaning back into my couch. "Tepper's dead," Karen responded shortly.

I sat up straighter, tension filling me. "The Medical Examiner?" I asked quickly. "Yeah, and it looks just like what happened with Reyes," she told me with a huff. "Wait, what do you mean?" I asked, getting to my feet. I had already kicked off my heels but knew I'd need to change soon. "Lots of bullet holes, lots of blood," she said, her voice filled with unease. And that's when it hit me. "Oh, my God. I'm such an idiot!" I snapped at myself.

"What?" Karen asked as I put my phone on speaker and rushed to change. "Where are you now?" I asked, ignoring her question. "I'm headed to my apartment to get some files, why?" she continued to ask. "Karen, it wasn't Frank, okay? He didn't kill Reyes or Tepper," I insisted as I yanked off my blouse and tossed it on the floor. "How do you know?" she asked almost hesitantly. Snatching up the phone, I started pacing my room.

"There's too many bullets. Frank was a sniper; he wouldn't need to spray nearly a hundred bullets to kill one person. He could do it in a matter of seconds," I explained to her as I moved to my closet. "So, then who is it?" she asked me. "I don't know. I'll meet you at your apartment in a few. Just, be careful, okay?" I told her. She sighed but agreed before we hung up the phone. I let out a small groan and tossed my phone onto the bed before I heard something that I shouldn't have – my front door creak open.

Not caring about my lack of a top, I snatched my pistol from my bedside table. Creeping along the wall of my bedroom, I waited as I heard the footsteps moving slowly throughout the space. They were heavy, like boots, but there was a stealth aspect to them. I waited until the form moved to stand in the doorway of my bedroom when I stuck the barrel of my gun against the back of a head with black hair, shaved on the sides.

"Don't move," I growled slowly. The man was tall, a dark coat covering his frame. He moved slowly as he put his hands up. "I'm not gonna hurt you," the deep, rough voice said. My eyebrows shot up as I stared in confusion. "Frank?" I snapped, not moving. He turned slowly, hands still raised. I knew he could have taken the gun from me but he didn't. "Ma'am," he greeted with a small nod, my gun now pressed to his forehead. I let out a heavy sigh as I lowered my gun.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, not unaware that Frank had glanced down at my chest before returning his eyes to my face. "I didn't do it. I didn't kill them." I knew exactly what he was talking about. "I know. Too many bullets, not enough precision. I saw the Irish Kitchen crime scene photos," I started to explain as I set my gun back on the bedside table and reached into my closet for a tank top. "Every single shot was perfect. Reyes and Tepper? Well, that was just a damn mess," I sighed as I tugged my top on before turning to face Frank.

"Got a lot of scars, ma'am," he pointed out, eyes still locked on me. "Wanna count to see who has more?" I taunted him. "This one's new," he added, gesturing to his own abdomen. I reached up to feel the scabs that were nearly gone. "Wasn't bad. The poison was the worst of it. Felt like I was burning from the inside out," I explained as I snatched a hair tie off the dresser and threw my hair into a bun. "What about that one? Back of the neck," he clarified. I couldn't stop myself from reaching back to feel the old scar. "Jumper cables. Mission went south, got caught. I got myself out though," I told him with a shrug, dropping my hand from my neck.

For a moment, we just looked at each other. "What are you doing here, Frank?" He barely had time to open his mouth before bullets began to fly. Frank grabbed ahold of me tightly, shoving me to the ground before covering my body with his. I shut my eyes tightly, knowing debris from the bullets was flying as well. It was just like at the courthouse. Maybe ten seconds of bullets raining down like hellfire – and then deafening silence.