Page 53 of Tangled With You

“Call Trevor,” he ordered his phone, then listened as thecar filled with the familiar ringtone, then Trevor’s voice—but not really Trevor.

“You’ve reached Trevor Barone. I’m away from my phone butplease leave a message.” And then the long, irritating beep.

“Hey, it’s me. Just calling to tell you that you’re anidiot. I love you. You love me. But you’re getting in your own way. So stop it,already. You can’t waltz into my life, make me love you, and then pull theplug. You’re my lobster, dammit. So get your shit together, okay? Because Iswear, you can push me away, but I’m just going to keep coming, even if ittakes another year. Even if it takes five. So get that through your thick head,Barone. I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He drew a breath, then ended the call, leaving his heartfeltrambling message in Trevor’s voicemail.

If nothing else, Trevor would realize that Ollie really wascrazy in love with him.

Hopefully, it would do some good.

The car in front of him inched forward, then hit the gas andblew through the last of the yellow light, hitting the intersection as itchanged to red, and managing to escape from the traffic snarl. Ollie felt likeapplauding the driver’s moxie.

Now he was number one in line, sitting at a red light, watchingthe traffic pass in front of him on the perpendicular street and above him onthe overpass for the 101 freeway.

He bent forward, squinting a bit, trying to discern what hewas seeing up there. Was that—

Yeah. Yeah, it was. A person—a man—standing on the 101 besidethe concrete side barrier, looking down at the snarled traffic in the Valley.

Ollie frowned. The guy probably had a breakdown and didn’trealize that getting out of his car was an incredibly foolish thing to do.

He shook his head, wondering how people could be soclueless. Considering the way people changed lanes in this town, didn’t the manknow he was risking getting sideswiped even though he wasn’t even standing in alane?

Maybe he did. Because now the man was pressing up againstthe concrete barrier, practically flattening himself against it as if using itfor stability. Ollie grimaced, half of him wishing he could communicate withthe man, the other half just watching this inexplicable show.

Or maybe not so inexplicable.

The guy had a gun. Ollie couldn’t be sure from where hestood, but it looked like a sniper rifle, and he was using the barrier to holdit steady.

What the fuck?

A question that changed from curiosity to fear when herealized that the gun was aimed right at him.

And then everything happened at once.

Ollie took his foot of the brake as he jammed the shifterinto park and threw himself sideways over the middle console, basicallyface-planting in the passenger seat as a gunshot rang out.

But the shot didn’t come from the overpass. Instead, it camefrom the sidewalk to his right.

He started to sit up, but his guardian angel must have beenwatching out for him, because even as he tensed his muscles to do so, a loud crackreverberated through the car, and he was suddenly covered with bits of safetyglass, not to mention the fluffy stuff that filled the driver’s side headrest,now completely destroyed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Another gunshot rang out even as he kept one arm over hishead and fumbled for the glove box where his own weapon was stored.

And then there was silence. A moment of blissful silencebefore utter chaos descended. Horns honking, people screaming, and then a rapidpounding at his passenger side door.

He lifted his head slowly, not bringing it up above thelevel of the dashboard. Just enough so that he could look up and see who wasout there.

“Ollie!”

Trevor!

He fumbled for the button to unlock the door, then sat upcautiously, realizing that Trevor wouldn’t be standing in the open like that ifthe threat hadn’t been neutralized.

“Bobby?” His voice sounded strange with his ears stillringing.

“I thought I was too late,” Trevor said, tugging Ollie intohis arms, the console the only thing keeping them apart. “He had you in hissights. I didn’t have time to think. To aim. I just fired and I—oh, God, he gotoff a shot. You could have been—”