Kiss Bang Boom

 

Chapter One

A bang shattered the air. Startled, Paige dropped her phone onto the bathroom tile, and scrambled to grab it. Was that gunfire? Two more shots and then something thumped against a hard surface. Did someone fall? Something terrible was happening in Judge Ferguson’s office. Time slowed. Fear flooded into her veins. Her heart beat loud and fast. Her shelter-in-place teacher training kicked in and she dove into the only hiding place–a supply closet half empty and just large enough for her to yoga-pretzel her five-foot frame behind a box.

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, her senses alert, prickly, like charged with static electricity. The door opened, the squeaky hinges screaming out to stay small, stay hidden, the gunman was here.

She held her breath, wishing she could turn invisible. A wish she’d made dozens of times as a child hiding from her brother, Evan.

But wishes didn’t stop the footsteps approaching.

The door flew open, bright light poured in, and the outline of a monster of a man towered over her. He raised his hand. His gun, matte black with a suppressor, pointed at her. His dark blue button-down shirt had the US Federal Marshal’s logo embroidered above his heart.

“Please, don’t.” Her whispered words didn’t affect him.

He growled and bent, grabbed her ankle and yanked her out.

Her back smacked against the jamb, and she yelped. Make noise, get attention. She screamed, “Somebody help! He’s shot Judge Ferguson.”

He gripped her shoulder and reached for her mouth.

Paige kicked her legs out and windmilled her arms, slapping ineffectively against his dark uniform shirt. She tried to scratch his face, a move Evan hated, but he easily batted her hand away.

“Shut up.” He lifted her, his python grip capturing her arms against her body, and slammed her against the wall.

Her head snapped back, and lights exploded behind her eyes. She kicked again, aiming for his groin, but he was faster, twisting his body so she only hit his thigh.

“Knock it off.” He spoke low, quiet, but smacked her against the wall to ensure she got the message. He slowly lowered her down and dragged her into the judge’s office.

Judge Edgar Ferguson’s limp body slumped against his desk. His face indistinguishable, covered in blood, a hole where an eye had been. Blood pooled around him. So much blood.

Paige screamed.

The killer knocked the side of her head with the butt of his gun. He yanked on her elbow.

Her feet slid in the judge’s blood, and she fell to her knees. Her fingertips slapped against the puddle of blood, turning her stomach.

He raised the gun.

“Please, don’t do this.” Paige closed her eyes.

He pulled the trigger, this time it clicked, but no bullet.

Her muscles tensed tighter, expecting an impact. She opened her eyes.

He pulled back on the slide, the misfired bullet bouncing out and onto the floor near her.

She scrambled to her feet. She fisted her hand and swung at him.

He snagged her upper arm and yanked her against him.

She became dead weight, twisting her arm behind her.

He readjusted his hold, lifting her feet off the ground.

She turned, crouched, and kneed his groin, this time connecting.

He stepped back, momentarily surprised, and tripped against the desk chair. He released her in order to catch himself.

She found her feet.

He reached toward her, his fingertips grazing against her crossbody purse strap but unable to grip it.

She shot out of the office, ran like her brother, Evan, was chasing her. She reached the hallway and screamed, “He shot the judge,” repeating it like a mantra as her feet ate up the distance down the stairwell to the fire exit.

Footsteps thumped behind her along with heavy breathing. She could probably outrun him…

She pushed through the emergency exit door, the loud sirens pealing immediately, with red lights flashing and white lights blinking.

He cursed; the sound much closer than she wanted but giving her an adrenaline boost.

She rushed down the courthouse steps and toward the street. She pushed her hands into her pockets, cleaning the blood off her fingers. It was twilight, still light enough to for her to see the drivers’ faces but she doubted anyone would help her with bloody hands. She searched for someone who looked trustworthy. She banged on the window of a minivan, frightening a young mother.

“Please let me in!” She looked over her shoulder, but the shooter hadn’t caught up yet.

The woman screamed and gunned the engine, almost running over Paige’s foot.

“Please help me!” Paige’s call went unanswered, and people avoided her gaze. Across the street, the cars had stopped at a red light. She jogged through the traffic and pounded on a compact sedan.

“Help.”

“Get off my car!” The man reached for his glove compartment, revealing a gun.

Paige ran forward, passing two cars where she’d made eye contact with the driver in their side mirror only to have them look away. But then, a shocked face kept her gaze… one she recognized. Riley McIntosh, her neighbor, and the man she impetuously kissed under the mistletoe last Christmas. He hadn’t made eye contact with her since. This time, however, he tracked her movements as she ran through the traffic and to his car stopped at the red light.

“Please let me in!” She threw herself against the backdoor of his Jeep Cherokee, glancing behind her to see the gunman exit the building, eyes on her, chuffing like a bull. The cool October air created clouds around his face.

The sound of the door unlocking, and the honk of a car drew her attention back to her savior. She pulled the car door open and flung herself inside, staying low on the seat.

“Thank you.” She rubbed her ice-cold hands over her trembling legs as if to assure herself she was still intact. Although her neighbor had avoided her for the last year, he’d helped her when it mattered.

“Want to tell me why there’s a US Marshal chasing you?” Riley’s deep voice rumbled, calm and deliberate.

“He shot Judge Ferguson. I was in his bathroom and heard the shots.” The image of Ferguson’s bloodied head flashed in her memory and sent icicles down her limbs. Paige shook took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He tried to shoot me, but the gun didn’t fire. He grabbed me and…” She rubbed the back of her head, a baseball sized lump swelling and tender to her touch.

“Uh-huh.” Riley grunted, as if not believing her. He drove around the corner and Paige gripped the door.

He pulled the car to a stop in front of the Lexington police station. “You want to tell the police that story?”

His cynic tone hurt worse than the bump to her head. He didn’t believe her?

She fumbled for the door release. “Yes, thank you.” Paige pushed the door open. When she stepped onto the asphalt, she noticed the blood, still wet, on her shoes. Bending carefully, she slid her flats off and held them from the inside lip. Paige slammed the door and refused to look back.

Jackass.