Free Hart To Hart by Vella Day

he’d tell her not to come. Dad could be stubborn. Men like him never liked to admit they needed someone.
    After waiting for her boss to give her the okay, packing, stopping for a snack, and driving carefully in the inclement weather, it was a little after one before she pulled into his drive. No car was there. Mom had texted earlier and said they’d be home sometime today, but she didn’t know exactly when. She’d taken care of him at her hotel room last night.
    Charlotte parked, grabbed one of her two suitcases from the trunk, and headed up the front porch. The wind gusted and blew her long hair wildly, forcing her to rush to let herself in. “Hello? Anyone here?” She didn’t know why she called out. She didn’t really expect a response.
    Dad’s ranch style home had three bedrooms. He’d already specified which one was hers, so she dragged her case to the room then returned to the car for her other suitcase, which she’d set on the floor on the passenger’s side. Head down to block the wind, she opened the door and attempted to lift her second case. Crimeny . It was a lot heavier than she’d remembered, and as she tried to tug on it, she lost her balance and stumbled backward.
    Just as she almost righted herself, the car window shattered next to her head. Adrenaline swamped her. What the fuck was that?
    A gunshot. Holy shit. All she could think of was to run as fast as she could to get the hell to safety. Zigzagging to the porch, she hoped whoever had tried to kill her was a bad shot. Her knees trembled and bile rushed up her throat. Oh, my God. This couldn’t be happening.
    Charlotte yanked open the door and had the wherewithal to lock it. Without taking the time to check out the window to see if she could spot her assailant, she charged down the hall to her bedroom. After locking that door, she grabbed her purse off the bed.
    The phone wasn’t in its usual spot. Where the hell are you? Come on. Come on.
    Her fingers finally connected with her cell. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fumbled to get it out of the side pocket. Once free, she pressed 911.
    She paced as it rang and rang, her heart jammed in her throat the entire time.
    “911. What is the nature of the emergency?”
    “Someone just shot at me.”
    “Are you injured?” The operator was almost too calm.
    “No.”
    “Are you in a safe place now?”
    “Yes. I’m at 13406 SR 25 in Rock Hard.” She rushed to the bedroom’s side window, hoping to catch a glance at him, but this bedroom was in the back of the house. Damn. She couldn’t even see the drive.
    “Officers are on the way. Remain in a safe place.”
    Safe place? She looked around to find one. If she hid in the closet, and if this person broke in, he’d find her for sure. Damn. There wasn’t a safe place, but keeping out of sight would be smart.
    “Is the front door locked?” the operator asked.
    She had to think for a moment. “Yes.”
    Charlotte ducked into the hall bathroom and kept the lights off. While it probably wouldn’t make any difference, she hid in the shower with the curtains closed.
    Then her body began to shake.

Chapter Eight

    W hen sirens sounded, Charlotte almost collapsed with relief. She stepped over the edge of the tub then pushed open the bathroom door to listen for footsteps. If the man with the gun had stayed around to see if she would come out to investigate, the arrival of the police would have him running.
    The wails grew louder, easing her fears. Charlotte rushed to the front of the house and looked out. Two police cruisers and a red Jeep pulled into the drive. She unlocked and opened the front door, the wind momentarily refreshing her heated body. Men in uniform piled out of the cruisers, while a man in blue jeans and a brown leather bomber jacket stepped from the Jeep. He motioned them to check out the area then took the front porch steps two at a time.
    Whoa. He stood a few inches above six feet, had light brown hair, cut short on the side and