Free Undercover Lover by Jamie K. Schmidt

about a half a bottle of vodka in total. She was hugged and kissed and plied with more alcohol as he introduced her to Nikolai’s friends and family. Some people she remembered from her brief time in the neighborhood. Some remembered her and her family. She saw it when they avoided her eyes and moved quickly away.
    “Her father was quite the gambler.”
    “Is her brother still in jail?”
    “Her mother kept a nice house, when they had one.”
    Muffled titters accompanied that statement, and Pam’s head swiveled to find the culprits. She held on the Drake’s arm when the floor tilted.
    Pam guessed it was too much to hope that enough time had passed. Her family had made its mark on the neighborhood. Safe in her vodka-induced haven, she held her head up high for once. She was not the same girl that had lived on the beach or the park during the summer. Or slept at friends’ houses when she could in the winter. She was sure Oksana had reminded everyone in this room who she was—or, at least, those who had been around to see her family lose everything. Well, she was back.
    She was also drunk. But that was beside the point. She had a job she loved, and she helped people. She used her psychology degrees, along with homeopathic treatments, for maximum results. Pam felt herself swagger a bit and smiled drunkenly at her new friends, but the whispers kept hounding her.
    “I wonder how she paid for her education?”
    “All it takes is a long shot paying off at the doggies.”
    “Her father was more a ponies man.”
    Each time she tried to catch Stefan’s eye, however, either Oksana or Drake pulled her away. She was beginning to suspect a conspiracy. After the blistering kiss in the kitchen, Pam was a little embarrassed at herself. She spent a lot of time leaning her head against Drake’s shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind.
    She was shaking his partner’s hand, a nice man named Mark something-Irish, when gunfire shattered the bar’s front windows. Things happened so fast, but in her half-inebriated state, it seemed like a movie in slow motion.
    The roar of the bullets deafened her. Glass and pieces of wood flew through the air. People screamed. Blood sprayed over her. Drake pushed her down and pulled his own gun. Mark stayed low and headed to the front of the bar, using the tables and chairs as cover.
    She saw a Humvee pull up and the muzzle flash of automatic weapons from inside the large truck when more bullets tore up the front of the bar area. Puffs of upholstery and bottles breaking filled the air. Loud booms of heavy caliber pistols answered the automatic weapons.
    Not again . A flashback hit her and she wasn’t sure where she was. For an excruciating moment, she was back at the jai alai fronton with her dad when the mobsters tried to get the money he owed them. Pam tried to push herself up. They had to run. If it was her father’s “cookies” out there, they would try to hurt them.
    “Bookies,” Pam said. She wasn’t eight years old anymore. And she didn’t owe money to anyone.
    If she could only see who was shooting, maybe she could help. Tackled back down to the floor, she recognized Andrej’s gruff voice in her ear as his bulk knocked the wind out of her.
    “Stay down.”
    It was pandemonium, with running feet and gunfire. She couldn’t breathe. Her asthma. She panicked and clawed out from under Andrej.
    “Incoming,” Drake yelled.
    A large explosion rocked the front of the bar, and debris littered down from the ceiling. A beautiful crystal chandelier hit the floor, shattering ice cube-sized crystals over everyone.
    Drake! Pam would have screamed, but there wasn’t any air. She must have dropped her purse. She crawled around looking for it, trying vainly to get breath in.
    “He’s not hurt. Let him do his job without having to worry about you,” Andrej said.
    Pam saw her purse lying open, and she lunged for it. Luckily, her inhaler hadn’t been crushed. She forced herself to lie on her side and