Bang Bang

By Belle Brooks

A fake fiancé. An undercover cop. The most delicious cake in the world. A hilarious tale of love.

Miranda Sikes is a twenty-year-old university student who hates venturing into the city, but her grandmother's watchband isn't going to repair itself.

The watchband doesn't get fixed.
She misses the bus home.
She's stuck in the one place she loathes.
But there's a silver lining: free wedding cake by Alessandro. It's only the best cake in the world. Now all Miranda needs is a fiancé to dine with so she can meet the store's terms.

Miranda's next decision will change the course of her day, her year, and her life.

And it all happens when she grabs the arm of a man named Haggerty, finds herself shoeless while running down a busy street, and is forced to dive to the ground when she hears …

BANG! BANG!

BANG BANG is a hilarious, action-packed, unique, one-of-a-kind standalone from international bestselling author Belle Brooks. Sit back, relax and enjoy a great laugh.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMA Publishing PTY LTD
• Release date: Aug 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648573326

Belle Brooks

Born in Australia, Belle Brooks has always had a passion for books and creative writing. She loves exploring the different ways stories can be told through the use of text and in-depth characters. Since she was a child her strong talent and interest in creative writing was evident, explaining that her favourite class in school was English. Despite her love for all things books, she decided the world of advertising and marketing was where she could put her talents to use in the business realm, well that is until now. Belle enjoys creative writing and creating fictional stories that leave a valued message inside the pages.

Book preview

Table of Contents

A NOTE TO THE READER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ISBN: 9780648573326

Bang Bang

©2019 by Belle Brooks

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, JMA Publishing Pty Ltd, T/A Obie Books, Po Box 2302, Yeppoon QLD Australia 4703.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All rights are reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in past in any form. This edition is published in arrangement with JMA Publishing Pty Ltd.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by

JMA Publishing Pty Ltd

Po Box 2302

Yeppoon Qld 4701

AUSTRALIA

Edited: Lauren Clark

Proofread: K.M. Golland

Cover: Jemina Venter

Formatter: Jaye Cox

A NOTE TO THE READER

This book has been written using UK English and contains euphemisms and slang words that form part of the Australian spoken word, which is the basis of this book’s writing style.

Please remember that the words are not misspelled. They are slang terms and form part of everyday Australian vernacular.

Chapter One

I leap over a pile of dog crap in the centre of the pedestrian crossing. What dog owner lets their pooch unload a turd in the middle of the street and doesn’t clean it up? An irresponsible one, that’s who. I’m glad I saw it before it covered my sandal … my foot … eww. The thought alone scrunches my face tight and has me poking out my tongue in revulsion. But, then again, this pile of shit crossing my path today could be a symbol of just how crappy my morning has been.

I missed the bus home—again—only because I had to fight with the watch-repair dude. He quoted me one price over the phone for a repair, only to try and sting me an extra hundred dollars I don’t have when I stepped foot into his store. I just needed a new band for the watch my grandma gave me when I graduated high school.

Why was that so hard?

Why are people so greedy?

Two hundred dollars for a watchband? I think not.

I sigh, drop my head, step onto the footpath, and hope time works in fast-forward mode, so I can get home to my cosy little room on campus. My stomach grumbles, loudly. Great! And now I’m hungry.

Honk, honk

Fuck off, you loser, a man curses from his car window.

Eat shit and die, another man shouts back from his vehicle.

The city. It sucks.

I take three steps, stop, wonder what I should do for the next hour and a bit, and then I find myself eyeing the sign of Alessandro’s Wedding Cakes. I’m quick to peer right into the shop window. Well, this could settle my appetite.

There’s another sign, a sign that offers me a glimmer of hope.

‘Are you getting married? FREE wedding cake taste testing for couples from 11 a.m. to 12 p.m. Today only!’

I reach into my handbag and locate Grandma’s watch. It’s ten past eleven.

There’s only fifty minutes left on this offer.

I love cake. I love Alessandro’s Wedding Cakes. Julie had one, Maria had one, and Steve and Tyler had the cake to end all cakes when they got married—people are still talking about it today. But these cakes cost a fortune, and I’ve no invites to attend any weddings in the foreseeable future.

I’m not engaged.

I don’t even have a boyfriend.

But it’s free Alessandro’s cake, and I know there’s no way to get one of their free offers unless accompanied by my significant other. Julie made that very clear when I wanted to tag along with her for a taste-testing session. I wasn’t her groom.

I need a groom-to-be.

And that’s worth improvising for.

Where can I get a fiancé and fast?

I know! I’ll just grab the first man who strolls by me. My mind is made up.

An unsuspecting bypasser’ walks past, so I wrap my fingers around his jacket.

What are you doing? His posture stiffens as his muscles become rigid.

I should be the one asking the questions. Like, what’s he doing wearing a jacket in the middle of summer? But I don’t know him, and to ask such a question when we’ve barely met seems quite forward. Also, I’ve no time, because I’m hungry, and every minute ticking by has become precious to me.

Could you please let me go? he barks.

I could, but I’m not going to, because cake. And not just any cake—the most delicious, mouth-watering food created by man is inside this shop, which is so close to me, I can almost taste sweet sugar exploding on my tongue.

I tighten my grip.

Let go. He scolds me like I’m an immature child.

I don’t appreciate his tone of voice.

He yanks against my grip. I hold on then pull him back in my direction.

It’s an emergency. It just flies out of my mouth. To be fair, it’s not really a lie; it is an emergency. There are only forty-seven minutes left to devour as much cake as my belly can hold, and fifty-eight minutes until the next bus departs. I need your help.

Why didn’t you start with that?

He has a point.

This way, I say, and let go of his arm as I rush towards the door.

Okay.

I glance over my shoulder to ensure he’s following. He is. Thank God.

Ding, ding, ding

Welcome to Alessandro’s, a woman greets us. She’s tall, toothpick-slim, and holding a small golden tray with a few square enticers placed in the centre.

Hello. I smile, waiting for jacket-guy to step to my side. When he does, I slide my hand across the bottom of his back and lay my head against his arm. I’m Miranda, and this is P-P-Peter, my fiancé. We’re looking for the perfect wedding cake.

Wonderful. Her turquoise eyes shine with glee. She extends the tray in my direction. We have chocolate, caramel, and fruit. Here … She points to the tray. And plenty more to choose from in our tasting room.

Oh, tasting room. That sounds exciting. I lick my lips. Honey, I think I’ll try the chocolate. You should choose the caramel, and we’ll go from there.

What? Wait. Where’s the emergency? he asks.

I fake a giggle. Oh, he’s such a jokester, this one. I jerk my arm from his waist and poke playfully at his side. Peter’s a fireman. Always with the emergency jokes. Please play along, please. My stomach drops then rolls with sudden nervousness. Be a fireman, be a fireman.

A fireman? he mumbles scratching his head.

I see. Cake-lady doesn’t seem sold.

Now, where do we go to sample the rest? We need to get a wriggle on.

A fireman? he mumbles again.

I hold my breath. He’s not going to play along. I’m not going to get to eat cake, and I’m starving, I’m so very hungry.

Cake lady steps to her left, then swivels on her stiletto until she’s standing side-on.

Please read my mind, fake fiancé Peter. You’re a fireman. You’re my fiancé. We’re here to pick out a possible wedding cake so we can eat the best cake in town for free.

I’m not a fire—

We don’t have much time, baby. I interrupt him as I twist my body into his and press my breasts against his chest. "You have fires to fight and people to save, because you are a fireman. I turn my eyes up to his, and I hope to God he’ll take pity on me. I have rings to buy, and bouquets to look at. We need to hurry."

Thank you for your service, cake lady says.

Welcome, he replies hesitantly.

Please follow me. I’m Stacey, by the way.

Nice to meet you, Stacey.

I wrap an arm around my fake fiancé. I step. He steps too. He’s moving. I’m moving. Yay, Cake.

I’m not sure why he’s doing this. Maybe he’s hungry too.

Side by side, step by step, we edge closer to a door that I swear is surrounded by angelic light and magic fairy dust.

Ring, ring, ring

The sound plays by my ear. Jacket guy’s pocket is ringing, and he’s quick to step away from me before reaching inside the lining to retrieve a phone.

Haggerty speaking. There’s a short pause. Oh, shit! He flashes me a hard glare right before he rushes back out the way we came, dropping his phone to the carpet below in his haste.

I watch him leave. I peer down at his abandoned phone, and then I turn to face Stacey, who’s wearing a hesitant smile only the guilty would portray. So, the testing room, where is it?

I’m so close.

"I’m sorry, Miranda, but this offer is for couples only, and since your partner has gone—"

To fight a fire.

I’m sorry. She doesn’t look as sorry as I feel. I need to get him back. No, that would be crazy. But I probably should return his phone. After all, I’m the reason he lost it in the first place.

Yes, I need to return his phone.

Got to go. I shove the chocolate cake in my mouth. I take two steps and pick up his phone. Run. Chew as I flee. Stop. Moan because this cake is so delicious it renders me motionless. Then I swallow with a gulp before slipping his phone into my bag. I soon take off in the direction Haggerty went. I should have gone with sneakers over sandals today.

Slap, slap, slap

My sandals make so much noise that this chase is not at all inconspicuous. Hell, he’d hear me coming from a mile away and probably run faster. After all, I am the chick who just tried to use him for cake.

If rom-coms are anything to go by, usually in movies it’s a runaway bride, but it appears I’ve found myself a runaway pretend groom instead. That doesn’t surprise me though, because any man being yanked from a footpath into a store under false pretences was never going to stay long. I just really wanted that cake. And now I have his stinkin’ phone. I puff for breath and turn left.

Weaving through passers-by is no easy feat. There are people everywhere.

Hey! Watch where you’re going, someone yells.

Sorry, I call out, as I continue searching for Haggerty.

What’s his story? I need to know. Why did he say ‘Oh, shit’ then glare at me and run? Does he know he left his phone behind?

I turn a sharp corner. One pink sandal slips from my foot and flips right into a storm-water drain. There’s no getting that back. Goddammit, I breathe. I run—hobble—praying I don’t step in gum or dog shit.

Crap! I yelp when my bare heel slides over the gutter. I hop as I wrap my fingers around my ankle and squeeze my eyes shut. I hiss a long breath. I need to find Haggerty.

Dropping my foot to the ground, I step onto the road. Ouch, I moan. Rough asphalt. Why? Why today?

I hobble. I jog, and then I sprint. More obstacles. Parked cars. I can’t stop. I work my way around them. Where did Haggerty go?

I’m huffing as I duck around another vehicle and halt. Straight? Left? Right? There are three options at this inter section, and I’m not sure which one to take.

Left. No, right. No, straight.

Miranda, decide already.

Left, then.

I go left.

The sound of fireworks rings out. It’s daytime, so why are they doing a firework display in the city? It makes no sense, but I keep running down a long street, passing outlets, towards the noise. Suddenly, I stop dead in my tracks.

I should have turned right.

I’m not prepared for the blood, or the shrill cries filling the air.

I should have turned right.

A man sits on the ground. His shoulders are hunched. He shouts words I can’t understand. Beside him sits another man. I can’t see his face. I creep closer.

Haggerty!

I should flee. There’s so much blood, and the screaming won’t stop. But I don’t turn around. Instead, I say through a trembling voice, What happened?

That glare. Haggerty sure has a scary-as-fuck glare, accompanied by flaring nostrils. He lets out a feral grunt.

Why’s he grunting at me?

Do I need to call this in? Haggerty asks, his eyes still fixed to mine.

Do you? Need to call this in? How am I supposed to know? Why is he asking me? Oh, it’s probably because I have his phone.

I wasn’t speaking to you. He looks away, and relief washes over me. The intensity of his glare is gone. But he still doesn’t have his phone. How could he call it in?

No, we can’t, the man finally says. We have no idea who the fuck is shooting at us. We don’t want to blow our cover, that’s if we haven’t already. We’ve worked so hard. The other man’s voice is gritty yet breathy.

It’s a through-and-through. I checked. I can patch this up. Haggerty’s tone is filled with confidence. Why isn’t he freaking out? I’m freaking out. There’s a hole through the man’s leg, and blood is spilling onto the road below. Is Haggerty a doctor? A through-and-through? Was this man shot?

Yep, sounds good to me. Help me up, Haggerty.

The injured man yelps. Haggerty groans. I stand, staring at the dozens of people decked out in business attire. The people who are manically stumbling—screeching—scrambling like frightened mice from out of concrete buildings. I, too, should be legging it out of here, but I’m not. Instead, I’m still, and I’m shivering like cold air is being forced under my skirt. But there’s no chilled breeze. The day is as hot as Hades. However, my body doesn’t seem to acknowledge this because my teeth are chattering at the same speed as my legs tremble. I need to run. Run, Miranda.

Get out of here, will you? It’s dangerous. Cold, hard eyes. I don’t like Haggerty’s eyes. Not one bit.

Go! Yes. Sure. My voice quivers. I need to move. I can’t move. Why can’t I move?

Go! he shouts, standing with the man’s arm wrapped around his neck.

Where do I go? I don’t know what to do.

Anywhere but here!

Bang! Bang!

Shit! Haggerty shouts, throwing the man and himself to the ground.

I drop down too. I lie flat, pressing my cheek to the rough pavement, too scared to look in the direction of the noise.

We’re under fire, Haggerty shouts.

No shit!

I’m being shot at, in broad daylight, on a busy street with two men I don’t know.

Army crawl. Find cover, Haggerty barks in my direction as he uses his body to shield the man.

I’m frozen with my cheek still pressed to the asphalt and my heart thumping so hard l fear it’ll burst through my skin and run away without me. My head is numb. My legs tingle. Was I shot?

I need to get her out of here. I can’t leave her behind. Haggerty’s deep voice is as scary as his harsh, dark eyes.

That’ll screw this up even more than it is, the man says.

Will you be all right?

Is Haggerty asking me or the man?

I’ll meet you at the apartment. If I don’t make it, they’ve done me and I’m dead. Wait twenty-four hours before you call it in, and make sure you’re far away from here, the man yells.

Done. Good luck, partner. There’s a pause. Don’t get killed, Brett.

You either, he replies.

Bang, bang!

Holy mother of God. Help! I scream.

Stop screaming. Haggerty. His hand slaps across my back. His fingers curl against my T-shirt. I’m yanked into the air. Wrap your arms around me.

I do. Like my life depends on it. My life does depend on it.

Run, he hollers.

I do. I kick my other sandal off and move to the same rhythm as Haggerty. I’m curled into his side, hoping his big body will take any more bullets that might be fired in our direction.

Large grey buildings flash past my vision. I’m flung from one side of Haggerty’s body to the other when we reach the last building on the block. There’s not a car or person in sight.

Where did everybody go?

Climb, Haggerty shouts.

Climb? What? I turn my eyes in the same direction of his head, upwards. What? He wants me to climb the side of a building, on a rickety ladder that looks like it was mounted in the late 1800s?

Suddenly, there’s a hand on my bare arse. My G-string flosses my crack as I’m shoved from under my flowing black skirt onto a step.

Stop it. Get your hand off my—

Climb. His single word is laced with determination. He’s not backing down.

I climb.

Creak, creak, creak

Oh, my God. This ladder is going to tear off the side of this concrete building and fall. I just know it is. Please make this stop. I don’t need cake, the city, or the phone of a jacket-wearing guy who gets shot at. I want to go home.

I’m halfway up. I tilt my chin until I’m peeking over my shoulder. The ground is far. I look to the sky. The sky is too close.

Move. Don’t stop. Haggerty is right behind me.

I can’t. It’s going to break.

Bang, bang

I scream. Haggerty puts his hand up my skirt for a second time, and pushes me upwards. My feet stumble. My hands slip. I’m going to fall.

Hang on to the bars. Stop leaning back.

I can’t do it.

You can. Miranda, isn’t it? That’s what you said at the store.

Yes.

You can do this.