Page 96 of Other Woman Drama


Font Size:

“I think so,” I said. “Something felt like it pinched me earlier, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Probably spray from the bullets hitting the gravel.”

Gunner was here?

When did that happen?

“It happened when I heard the gunshots and turned around,” he replied to my obviously said aloud statement. “I hit the bitch with my brand-new motorcycle.”

I blinked.

The sirens started, and my breath hitched. “Is he okay, Piers?”

Please, let him be okay.

Please, please, please.

The scuff of small rocks on gravel had me turning my head, and what I saw made my heart speed up.

Jasper was reaching for me, trying to soothe my obvious worry.

Webber looked from me to Jasper and back and said, “He’s fine.”

But his eyes…his eyes said he was lying.

I closed my eyes and prayed harder than I’d ever prayed.

Bleeding. Broken. And dying.

Jasper was still thinking about me.

When my gaze met Webber’s once again, it said clearly, “You’ll fix this.”

As in, whatever beef he had with Jasper didn’t matter anymore.

Jasper had saved my life.

He wouldn’t pay for any past mistakes, I’d make sure of it.

“Who knew that old bitch had it in her?” Jasper rasped, the sound of the heart rate monitor quietly beeping in the background.

I looked from Jasper to Gunner to Webber and back. “What am I missing?”

“The old lady across the street who reports him to the HOA board every chance she gets thought shooting up his place of business might scare him. But she had no goddamn clue just how hard it would be to hold on to that gun. When she fired, she missed the trash can and fired at y’all.”

“So let me get this straight,” I said. “An old lady, your neighbor, just gets a wild hair and decides, oh, I’m going to go shoot up his place of business because he parks in the road too much? That makes zero sense.”

“Regardless of it not making sense,” Apollo said as he came into the room with his computer tucked underneath his arm, his brightly flashing black shoes squeaking as he moved. “She still did it. She has receipts of going to buy the gun weeks ago. Looked up the address for Webb’s today on Google, then drove straight over there.”

“That’s not enough,” I said. “People don’t just shoot up a business because of that. They sue. They fight. They don’t automatically resort to violence. We’re missing something.” I paused. “Plus, if they were going to try to get away with something, they don’t buy guns that will knock them on their ass and allow them to get smashed with a motorcycle.”

Which was exactly what’d happened, according to the guys.

Jasper had thrown himself at me and covered me with his body.

The old lady, Martha Patterson, had purchased a Desert Eagle and had decided that it was the best idea in the world to shoot us with a fifty-caliber revolver that she couldn’t handle even when she was young. Let alone when she was pushing eighty.

She’d taken her first shot, which had hit true, but her second had gone wide and hit the dumpster, which had been what had caught me in the arm.