I woke with a scream as the loud pop, pop, pop of nearby gunfire ripped the quiet of the night. The shots lasted only for a few seconds before I heard the heavy bellow of a Harley roaring away into the night.

“Bailey!” Thom screamed, leaping from the bed and running from the room. I took an extra second to shrug into my shirt and grabbed his underwear before I followed. “Bailey! Are you alright?” Thom cried, followed by the loud bang of a door being thrown open.

“What was that!” Bailey asked, his voice barely audible.

I arrived only moments before Bláithín, pausing in the door but stepping aside so she could see as well. Thom was holding Bailey in his arms, rocking him slowly.

“Carolyn. Call the police.”

My heart was pounding. “Is he…?” I asked. I couldn’t bear to finish the question.

“He’s okay,” Thom said, still holding his son.

“Were those gunshots?” Bláithín asked.

I handed Thom his underwear. “Yes,” I said, stepping into the hall. Bláithín followed. “Get dressed. The police are going to be here soon.”

I called the police and dressed. Thom arrived before I was finished and began to dress as well. He was pale, but there was death in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Are you.”

“Well enough,” he said, not bothering with socks as he shoved his feet into shoes. I followed him to the front door.

“Don’t go out there!” I cried, pulling on his arm as he reached for the door.

“Stay in the house,” he said as he shook me off, opening the door and flipping on the outside lights.

I waited a moment and followed him outside. My heart sank. The front and rear glass in my Mustang was crazed and spider-webbed, with a couple more holes in the trunk. There were a half-dozen bullet holes in the garage door as well. I quickly counted holes. Eleven holes, between my car and garage door. Thom, his mouth tight, opened the big metal door. There were two more holes in his Volvo, and the back glass was broken.

We were still inspecting the damage when I heard the whooping roar of a hard charging V8, the cruiser’s strobes lighting the night in a crazy disco of blue lights. A moment later, a second, then a third cruiser appeared. I glanced around. The neighbors were beginning to congregate.

“You made the call?” the first officer to arrive asked as he approached. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties and was wearing sergeant stripes.

“I did,” I said.

“What happened here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Thom said. He was still calm, but there was steel in his voice. He might not let his emotions control him, but he was clearly pissed off.

“Anyone hurt?”

“No, thank God.”

“Know who did this?”

“Scott Rockford,” I said.

“Did you see him?”

“No, but I know it was him. He attacked me last…I mean earlier tonight. Charlotte police were supposed to pick him up.”

“Scott Rockford?” the sergeant asked as he turned to his shoulder mic.

“Yes.”

He keyed the mic. “Dispatch, I need a 10-49 on a Scott Rockford.”

There was pause. Scott Fitzgerald Rockford, forty-one-year-old white male. 6543 South Brooke, Charlotte... the radio said as the officer looked at me. I nodded that was the right person. He’s in custody of the Charlotte PD awaiting processing.

I frowned as the police officer watched me. “If it wasn’t him, it was one of his goons.”

“So it might not be Mr. Rockford who did this?”

“It was him,” Thom said firmly. “If it wasn’t him personally, it was under his authority.”

“Are you Mr. Gregg?”

“I am.”

“Want to tell me what this is about?”

I listened as Thom told the officer everything that had happened. “Excuse me a moment,” the officer said before he returned to his car.

“He doesn’t believe us.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Woman’s intuition,” I sneered as I crossed my arms. It was a little chilly and I was getting cold.

A lot had changed in my life in the past four months, but one thing that hadn’t changed was my distrust of the police. Thom clearly had more respect for them than I did. As we waited, a team arrived and began going over the area, taking pictures and picking up shell casings. We watched for several minutes. Two of the cruisers left, leaving only the sergeant and the forensics team.

“Are you Ms. Carolyn McDowell?” the sergeant asked as he approached again.

“Yes.”

The officer scratched at his face. “You say Mr. Rockford did this?”

“It’s what I believe, yes.”

“See, here’s my problem. Mr. Rockford was, and is, in the custody of the Charlotte PD. He also claims he wasn’t at your apartment earlier this evening, and he has a dozen witnesses that place him elsewhere at the time you claim the attack took place. Is it true you were locked in the bathroom and never saw your assailant?”

“No!” I cried. “Well, yes, I was locked in the bathroom, but I saw him before I locked myself in there! Eric Larson, my next-door neighbor, was there. He saw him!”

“Where are you going with this, Officer?” Thom asked, his voice cool.

“Mr. Larson claims he didn’t get a good look at the man. Only that he was big.” He turned his attention to Thom. “Mr. Rockford claims that Ms. McDowell is upset over their breakup and is trying to cause trouble for him in retribution. Mr. Rockford is well known to the Charlotte PD, but so far, he has witnesses that place him somewhere else each time Ms. McDowell claimed he attacked her.”

“And you believe him?” Thom growled as he took a long, obvious look around with his hands held out from his body palms up.

“I didn’t say that, but what it comes down to is Ms. McDowell’s word against Mr. Rockford’s. He clearly didn’t do this as he’s sitting in a jail cell waiting on bail.”

“What about the rest of his gang?” Thom asked. “The Ravens.”

The officer shrugged. “We’ll talk to them, but I guarantee you, every one of them was home, snug in their bed, with someone there to confirm it.”

“So you’re going to do nothing?” Thom said, his voice cold.

“I sympathize with you, Mr. Gregg. You don’t strike me as the type to come out here and shoot up his own house, but there isn’t a lot we can do. The man you claim did this has the best alibi a man can have.”

“So we just have to sit and wait for him to do something like this again?”

“My suggestion…” the officer glanced at me. “File a restraining order against him. That gives us something to work with. If he shows up again, we can pick him up for violating the no-contact order. Get a picture of him to make it stick.”

“We’ll do that,” Thom said, “but how’s that going to prevent something like this from happening again?”

“We’ll start doing drive-by patrols, but that’s the best we can do.”

“And my son? If one of the bullets just happens to hit him, then what? Too bad?”

“Mr. Gregg, I understand your frustration and concern. I have a granddaughter myself, and I know how I’d feel if something like this happened to her, but I can’t arrest someone on a hunch. You understand that, right? You didn’t see who did this, and the man you assume did it is already in custody.”

Thom glared at the officer. “I understand, but I want your assurance someone is going to pursue this.”

“That I can give you. We’re not going to drop this. If you see anyone suspicious hanging around, call the sheriff’s department.”

Thom sighed. “Thank you, Officer.”

The sergeant bobbed his head in a curt nod. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but rest assured we’ll do all we can to catch those responsible.”

We watched the police go about their business for another half hour before everyone packed up and left. We went inside. I was exhausted. I hadn’t dropped off until after midnight and had been asleep only a couple of hours when the shots woke me. Now it was five-thirty, less than ninety minutes before I had to leave for work, and I still needed to shower. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

Thom and I checked on Bailey. He was asleep, and Bláithín was sitting at the table, a cup of tea between her hands. She looked like I felt.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” Thom said. “I’ll drop Carolyn at work and get Bailey to school this morning.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She rose. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gregg.”

“None of this is your fault.” He looked at me. “Yours either.”

“It feels like it,” I muttered.

“Same with me,” Bláithín agreed.

“Well, it’s not.” He jerked his head in the direction of Bláithín’s bedroom. “Go on.”

She dumped her tea as I turned to follow Thom. “I’m getting in the shower.”

The shower helped perk me up, but I knew it wouldn’t last. I had eggs and toast with Bailey, then we all piled into the Civic Bláithín normally drove, the only car undamaged. Bailey’s eyes were wide, watching my car pass as we backed down the drive. We spoke little until we arrived at my job. I was early, but Thom still had to drop off Bailey at school.

“I’ll be here to pick you up when you get off,” he said.

I leaned over and kissed him quickly. “Okay,” I murmured. The sleepies were back and today was going to suck.

Questions about me being early led to questions about why I wasn’t driving my car, which led to more questions. Pretty soon the entire story was out. Being the only woman in the service department made me everyone’s kid sister. Everyone, to a man, offered to escort me to and from work and to have a come to Jesus meeting with ‘Scott fucking Rockford.’ I was touched by the outpouring of support and good will, and in my weakened emotion state brought on by lack of sleep, stress, and concern, I’d had to hide in the bathroom and have a good cry.

Thom walked in minutes before I was scheduled to leave. I noticed Glenn watching, his eyes hard. I smiled and waved to him to let him know I was okay.

“Ready to go?” Thom asked.

“Yeah.” I began to gather my things. The shop would be closing in five minutes, and it was unlikely anyone was going to arrive in that length of time.

He escorted me out, leading me to a bright red Volvo sedan. “Where’s your car?” I asked as he opened the passenger door for me.

“In the shop. This is a loaner.”

I must have dropped off on the drive to his house because it seemed like only moments before we were turning into his drive. My Mustang was gone and a new Ford Fusion was sitting in its place.

“Where’s my car?”

“In the shop. I got you a rental.”

“You didn’t have to do that!”

“Yes I did. Having your shot-up Mustang sitting in my drive was causing the neighbors to talk. Tomorrow someone is supposed to come replace the garage door.”

I could tell he was teasing me, but I still felt guilty that he was taking care of my car. “Let me know what it costs, and I’ll pay you back.”

“It won’t cost anything. My homeowner’s is paying for it.”

“What about the deductible?”

“Garage door,” he said as he lowered the door.

We walked into the kitchen. Bailey was busy with homework at the table as Bláithín hovered. Thom handed me an envelope.

“What’s this?”

“A restraining order against Scott Rockford and any member of the Ravens Motorcycle Club. They aren’t to approach within one hundred feet of you, your apartment, my family, or house. That includes Bláithín. It’s all filled out. All you have to do is sign it before the clerk. It’s a temporary order, good for ten days. We’ll have to appear before the judge to make it permanent.”

He looked tired. “You’ve been busy today.”

“Yeah. If he’s smart, this will end it.”

“It won’t,” I murmured as I nodded at the envelop. “That’s not worth the paper it’s written on. Every time you push, they’ll think they have to push back harder.”

“We’ll see.” The bell rang and my heart began to pound. He looked at Bláithín. “Did you call in the pizza?” She nodded and I relaxed. “I didn’t feel like cooking,” he explained as he started for the front door.

He returned with two large pizza boxes. “Hurray!” Bailey cheered as he gathered up his homework.

We ate, Bailey and Thom drinking pop while we women enjoyed an adult beverage. It would have been comical except I knew Thom and knew the kind of man he was. Rock might think him a pussy, but I knew he was anything but. There was something comforting about a simple meal with family. A chill passed over me with the thought. Thom, Bailey, and Bláithín weren’t my family, but I felt comfortable with them, more comfortable than I felt with anyone else since I’d moved out on my own.

Clean up was simple. I bagged leftover pizza into storage bags while Thom crushed boxes and tossed bottles and cans and Bláithín loaded our plates into the dishwasher. As soon as we were done, I leaned against the counter. Thom stepped in close and wrapped his arms around me. I was so tired. Eating had helped a little, but I was starting to fade again and my headache was coming back.

“Ready for bed?” he asked and kissed me.

“It not even seven yet.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pooped.”

I nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“Then let’s go. Bláithín can get Bailey into bed.”

I sighed. It sounded wonderful. It felt like it’d been months since we made love, but I was so tired, I just couldn’t. “I wish I wasn’t so tired.”

He stepped back, pulling my hand to start me walking. “We’ll grab a few hours of sleep and you’ll feel better. Me too.”

“Yeah.”

He smiled. “And if we wake up too early…maybe we’ll get a little exercise, to tire us out, so we can go back to sleep and sleep the rest of the night.”

I smiled, the thought of sleep making my eyes heavy. “Sounds perfect.”

“Yes, it does,” he agreed as he pushed the bedroom door closed.