Free Reluctant Runaway by Jill Elizabeth Nelson Page A

on the seat. “Just aPO box listed. Think you can dig the street address off the Internet tonight?”
    Max shot her a look.
    Desi laughed. “Sorry I asked.”
    They went into the store, bought the milk, and drove back to the house. A big pickup with dual rear wheels was parked at the curb. The rays of the lowering sun sparkled off the chrome on the roll bar.
    “Oh, man, Jo’s ex is here. He’d better not be high. With that baby in there … ” Max got out and slammed the door.
    Desi followed at a hustle. Raised voices came from inside the house. Max broke into a run; Desi followed. When a woman screamed, Desi pulled her cell phone from her purse. A man bellowed as she punched in nine. Glass smashed. She punched in one.
    All went still.
    Max stopped with one foot on the porch step. Desi crept up behind her, finger poised over that last button.
    A bird called from the branches of a tree.
    Max jumped and let out a little laugh. Desi breathed again.
    A gun blast shattered the air.

 Five
    N o, Max!” Desi tackled her friend from behind, and they tumbled together up the single step onto the porch.
    Max struggled. “Let go of me! That’s my
sister
in there!”
    “And that’s a gun in there. Hold your horses, and let me scoot up to the window and take a peek inside. You finish calling 9-1-1.” Desi handed Max the phone and scrambled on all fours to the living room window.
    Desi raised her head and peeked over the sash. The great room was empty. No, wait! A man with a long black ponytail and shiny cowboy boots backed in from the kitchen, hands raised. Jo followed with a shotgun pointed at Shiny Boots’s middle.
    “Go on. Git now!” Jo’s voice blasted almost as loud as the gun.
    “You’ll wish you’d let me take him.” The man rushed for the door.
    Desi turned toward her friend. “Look out!”
    Max jumped up as Shiny Boots charged outside. The man dodged around Max and hopped off the porch. Long, jeans-clad legs ate up the distance to the pickup. Shiny Boots leaped in, gunned the motor, and peeled out, leaving black streaks on the road.
    Desi stood up on unsteady legs. “Your sister is the gun-toter, not the guy who left a layer of rubber behind.”
    Max groaned. “Jo inherited the lion’s share of the temper in our Irish. Pete must have done somethin’ to provoke her. No one can do that like her ex.”
    The front door banged open, and Jo came out. No gun, but her eyes spat fire. “Would you believe that crackhead came here to get Adam? Said he needed to take him to a safe place.”
    A siren’s wail approached. Jo’s gaze targeted Max and the cell phone. “You didn’t call the police!”
    Max planted her hands on her hips. “We heard gunfire. What were we supposed to do? Twiddle our thumbs?”
    “Point taken.” Jo stepped across the lawn as the cruiser pulled up to the curb.
    A pair of officers got out. Thankfully, not the ones who’d tried to haul Max in for questioning. Desi stood beside her friend. “I wonder if they get called here often. Those uniforms don’t look too alarmed.”
    Max’s shoulders slumped. “I work for you to get a little peace and quiet. My family’s always been chock-full of drama.”
    “I didn’t know you found our brand of adventure relaxing.”
    Jo came back across the lawn, and the police cruiser pulled away. “Guess we got that straightened out. No law against a woman accidentally discharging a firearm in her home.”
    “What did you shoot?” Max stared at her sister. “Pete didn’t have holes in him.”
    “Oh, I’d’ve peppered him with buckshot. He knew that for sure when I emptied a barrel into my wall tiles. Let’s go eat. And don’t forget the milk.” She went into the house.
    Desi got the carton out of the car. “Wonder where Brent and Adam were when the OK Corral went down?”
    Max took the milk. “Good question.”
    “Right here.” Brent stepped around the side of the house, carrying a bright-eyed baby. “Jo shooed us out the back door as