“Shit, does he have a gun?” I’m pretty sure that my voice broke. Even if I found it embarrassing, I never claimed to be a hero.

The woman didn’t reply, and she was already heading down an iron rail staircase. With growing reluctance, I followed her. At the end of the stairs, she led us to a closed door.

“Joe, I’m back,” she called out. Then the woman knocked on the door gently while testing the locked doorknob.

“Joe! Come on, open the door.”

There was no answer.

“It’s Sally. Please let me in!”

They heard movement in the room, but whoever was there did not reply.

“Kick the door down!” She suddenly whispered to me.

It was a striking look of concern and pleading, which struck me as absurdly beautiful and damn dangerous. Then I looked at the solid wooden door and glanced at the woman dubiously.

“That’s a stupid idea. He has a gun!”

“Please, every minute counts,” she whispered. Her deep blue eyes implored me while I quickly debated inside his head.

Quit being a hero, just walk away my brain screamed at me. None of the limited options I mulled over kept me from getting my head blown off. Cold from the dripping clothes I’m wearing, I feel a weary urge to walk out of the house. Then I looked at her pleading expression

Damn, how can women make a guy act like an idiot?

“Okay! Okay! Let me give it a shot. Just don’t get yourself killed,” I finally whispered and moved her away from the door.

My plan was simple and dumb as hell. I’d run into the door at an angle, so my body’s momentum would slide me out of harm’s way when the door opened. Unlike what you see on the TV shows, the solid wood door I saw wasn’t going to give way like splinters when I ran into it. If her husband shot at the door, I figured he’d be aiming at the center. My bump and fall away plan lessened the likelihood I’d be in the line of fire. But I decided to get the cops involved if the bastard took a shot at the door, whether she liked it or not.

“Is this what you wanted?” I mumbled to the image of Miss Wonderful, which popped into my head as I took two steps back.

However, when my shoulder landed against the door, I didn’t expect what happened next. The impact broke the flimsy door latch, sending me into the room. Flailing around like a first-time skater, I landed on my belly and slid across the tiled floor. My shoulder felt like a hot poker pushed into it and I started cursing. As I got to my knees, the woman ignored my plight as she entered the room.

Over against the tiled wall, a tired-looking man crouched in the bathtub with a pump shotgun clutched in his hands. He looked like a hobo with his brown tweed jacket that did not quite fit and a couple of days’ beard growth on his face. The guy also had a severe case of the shakes.

She’s married to him!

My first impression of Joe centered on his trembling hands as the gunman slowly rose.

“Joe, put that down!” Sally ordered.

“Get away from me,” the man’s voice sounded as beaten and tired as he looked.

However, I was more upset that he pointed the gun barrel at me.

“Both of you leave unless you want my brains all over you.”

The elaborately engraved steel on the shotgun’s receiver glittered under the light from the bathroom’s light. I slowly got to my feet and put my hands up.

“Joe, you can’t do it,” she implored him. “We can work this out.”

“It’s too late. I told you what I was going to do. I meant it.” His other hand sought the trigger as the barrel lifted and he pointed it under his chin.

“No, don’t do it, sweetheart.” Sally was crying with her hands held over her mouth.

While my brain yelled out that I’m an idiot for being in the room, I slowly stepped closer, trying to get the guy to change his mind.

“Listen, something in your life stinks. I get it. But your wife ran out in the middle of a damn storm looking for help. Give her some credit here. What about what happens to her?”

The words had a slight effect, forcing him to glance at his wife. Then Joe looked down at his quivering hands and then back to the woman. He was smaller than me and rail-thin, but his shaking weapon gave him the floor in that room.

“Let’s just put that thing down, and we’ll talk about it. Hell, let’s grab a beer as well.” I’ll admit I kept glancing back at the door since I didn’t want to see the guy kill himself. I was really reaching for anything at that point.

Joe licked his lips at the idea, then shook his head.

“Never!” he stated firmly.

Joe groped for the trigger again. The barrel was nearly too long, and when he moved, his foot slipped on the porcelain tub. Instantly, Joe’s eyes widen at the thought of dying.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

However, his stumble gave me an opportunity. Jumping forward, I grabbed the gun barrel and Joe’s trigger wrist at the same time. While we fought for control, I accidentally slammed my head into Joe’s forehead. The blow loosened Joe’s grip as I grunted from the pain in my skull. Almost instinctively, I let go of his wrist and came with an uppercut into Joe’s jaw. My punch wasn’t much, but the thin man dropped like a rock, sliding down to the bottom of the bathtub.

Still hanging on to the shotgun and shaking from adrenalin, I carefully stepped back. The weapon’s barrel struck the chrome curtain rod with a metallic clatter, causing me to flinch. Sally came next to me, giving me an evil eye before she dropped to her knees to help Joe.

“Now what?” My gasps finally got the question out.

She tenderly touched his face, and her husband’s eyes opened in a daze.

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“Yeah, you were doing so good on your own,” my sarcasm came out with a bit more venom than I wanted. “Damn fool could have killed us.”

She glanced back, and I realized the words hurt her, but I didn’t care. Hell, I’m still shaking and condemning myself for getting involved.

“Can you help me get him into the bedroom?” Her pitiful voice made me look at her.

With a sigh, I nodded and put the shotgun in the corner. Joe felt like a bag of bones underneath the brown tweed coat as we hauled the semi-conscious man out of the tub. He smelled of sweat and booze, which got worse when I put his arm over my shoulder. Sally guided us out of the bathroom and to an open door down the hall. They laid Joe on top of a golden colored bedspread which covered the narrow twin bed.

“I’ll be right back,” the woman said and quickly disappeared.

Joe slowly came around as I watched him. Sally hurried back into the room with a whiskey bottle in her hand.

He doesn’t need another drink, I thought.

Kneeling next to the bed, she uncorked the bottle and poured some into his mouth. The man sputtered, choking on the drink, and his eyes blinked open in panic.

“My face,” the man coughed as he rubbed the bruised place where I struck him. He jiggled his jaw tentatively and seemed surprised to find it unbroken while he stared at me.

“Say, who is this guy?”

Sally immediately offered another drink while cooing her remorse to him.

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry. He’s a stranger that helped me. How could you do such a thing? We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

Joe took another drink after taking the bottle from her while his eyes stared into hers. He slowly nodded. Sally leaned over and kissed her husband on the forehead.

“Get a few drinks in you; that’ll make you feel better. You’re tired and confused,” she insisted.

As I watched the scene, the overwhelming sensation came to me that the couple’s closeness appeared forced in a way. The woman acted more like a disappointed mother.

While Sally kept insisting that they would make their marriage work, her husband nodded dumbly before taking another swig. He seemed more interested in the drink than in conversing with his wife. Joe held the bottle curled between his arms like he was holding a baby.

Damn fool! I thought.

That’s when a violent shiver struck me. I’m pretty sure it’s the aftereffect of this whole thing, so I retreated into the hallway. I went back to the bathroom to retrieve the shotgun, which I took upstairs to the gun case. After removing the shells from the shotgun, I put it back inside the case. I went around to the front of the fireplace. It was the old-fashioned type that needed wood.

“That figures,” I grumbled while crossing my arms.

A small stack of wood lay in a bin on the floor, but I decided not to tempt fate. I looked over the paints and décor of the room while trying to determine when I should leave.

I continued to pace around the living room, working to warm myself in the wet clothes. I assessed the décor as expensive, but it was something that I knew little about. A massive green sectional sofa covered a sizable area in the middle of the room. In front of the couch sat a maple coffee table on top of a brown pelt rug. Then I spotted a black phone sitting on top of a small table near the front door.

Yeah, my grandpa had one on the farm.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I walked over. When I picked up the handset, I heard a dial tone.

When I placed the handset back in the cradle, Sally came sauntering toward me. I’ll admit that I kept looking her over. Nobody could blame me since her wet dress showed off her assets nicely. Still, that familiar air about her remained in the back of my mind. However, the memory of where I saw her image before remained tucked away.

“I’ll never forget you for what you’ve done.” Sally stepped uncomfortably close to me.

With most of her makeup washed away, her face held a smattering of freckles. She flipped her wet hair over her shoulders and still exuded a sexy appeal. Her blue eyes held mine for a moment, then I remembered the phone.

“I’m curious why there’s no ambulance or police? The phone appears to work.”

“We can’t have the publicity. You know how gossip can start.” She patted my chest. “My, you’re as wet as me. Let me get you a towel.”

“No, that’s alright. I should get back,” I mumbled. Then I suddenly wondered where I was going to go while I stared at those big blue eyes.

“I’ll never be able to repay you for the help.” A seductive curl came to her lips.

You keep getting closer and I’ll have a hard time walking without embarrassment.

“Well, I’m glad things turned out alright,” I got out the words while realizing that I was doing a poor job of appearing indifferent. Of course, women never came on strong to me, so I’m worrying about this woman. Yeah, I’m wondering if she’s like Miss Wonderful, who brought me to this damn place? They both act the same way.

“I guess I should leave, Sally.”

She smiled brightly.

“I’m surprised that you caught my name amid all of this. I know I look just a mess right now. What’s your name, my hero?” She smiled seductively, with a bedroom tone in her inflection.

“I can find some way to reimburse you for your help.”

Seeing her come on to me like that made me all warm and fuzzy, but it also caused me to get a chill along my spine.

“Your husband might not think that way.”

“It’s alright,” she said with a tremble in her voice. “As you saw, we’re having marital problems, Mr.… Say, what’s your name?”

I suddenly froze, trying to remember the name on the door. When I finally came up with it, I almost smiled in relief.

“It’s Lane Dagger.” My gaze caught sight of a telephone book on the table. “Well, I’m in the phone book, I’m sure.”

Her eyes widened.

“You’re Lane Dagger?”

“I suppose so. Do you know me?”

“You’re that private dick that they write about in the paper.” She backed away like my skin had suddenly turned red and a forked tail popped out of the back of my pants.

“What a minute, I’m not the guy you think I am.” Baffled by her dramatic anxiety about me, I tried to think of something to placate her.

Then again, nobody asked my name today.

“I’ve heard plenty about you,” she scoffed. “People say that you’re involved in every sleazy thing that goes on inside Stull Junction.” Her shoulders slumped.

“I guess you’ll want money to shut this whole affair up. Is that your game?”

“Hey, hold on here,” I looked down at my wet clothes, growing angry. “You’re the one that stopped me, remember? I came in because you begged me to…”

“Just leave Mr. Dagger.” Sally’s face screwed up with frustration. She went to the front door, holding the door handle.

“Of all the things that could have happened, I had to get a two-bit shyster coming to my house tonight.”