“Something isn’t right. We need to go. We can’t wait for the cops. Why aren’t they here already?” What the fuck was taking them so long? Every beat of my heart was like a timer on a bomb. If they didn’t get here in the next minute, I was going in without the law.
“Could be any number of reasons.” He checked to make sure the flashlight on his Glock worked.
As I watched him, real life came into focus. Gone was my bravado. In its place, I was unnerved and moved at the same time. I was standing with my old man, loading guns, getting ready to go into battle. We’d fired guns before at the gun club and in competition. He’d taught me everything I knew about guns and gun safety. But I wasn’t competing in an organized event. I wasn’t the student tonight either. I was walking into an unknown situation that could get me killed. Hell, any one of us could die. I could now sympathize with my father for the times he’d fought for our country. All that aside, my old man had confidence in me, trusted that I would do the right thing and that I knew the risks and the consequences. For all that I stood up straighter. I was the man he knew me to be. I was his adult son.
He glanced at his watch.
Within seconds, a boom rent the air.
We both exchanged a what-the-fuck look and sprang into action.
“I’ll lead. You follow my commands,” he said.
I didn’t even think to argue. He was the one in charge. He was here helping me, and for that I was his soldier.
We used the lights from the Mustang to guide us into the garage. My mind was focused. My breathing was even. My heart was anything but calm. Adrenaline pushed through my system, spiking to new heights with each step we took.
The door into the house was open. My father held up a fist. I stopped. He poked his head around the door. When he lowered his arm, we moved cautiously into the kitchen. He circled around one side of the island, and I went around the other. Broken glass was scattered on the floor. I bent down and picked up a piece. Upon close inspection, I saw that blood coated the glass. This wasn’t the time for me to think the worst. I could only pray Lacey wasn’t hurt. I set the glass on the island and scanned the family room—no sign of anyone. I checked the backyard through the window in the breakfast nook. A shadow moved in the distance near a cluster of trees along the perimeter.
“Out back,” I said low. “There’s a sunroom down the hall with an exit door and another set of doors in her father’s office.”
“I’ll lead.” Quick movements had him through the family room and into the hall.
I hurried to keep pace. With stealth and precision, he eased down the hall with his arms extended, the gun ready for any enemy who dared to cross his path.
I kept flicking a look over my shoulder just in case.
The first room we came to was the sunroom. The door leading out to the backyard was open, and the entire back wall of windows was shattered. It looked like a war zone.
My heart pounded against my chest. Or was it the faint sound of someone grunting?
Oh shit! Mr. Robinson? I pointed to the next room down the hall, which was Mr. Robinson’s office. My father didn’t move. He scanned the yard with a mechanical precision as though he had x-ray vision and hearing. I didn’t doubt his senses were heightened and sharpened from years of fighting in the Special Forces.
“I saw a shadow out there earlier.” Unless my eyes were playing tricks or a cloud had passed in front of the moon. “You check the house.” We had to split up if we wanted to find Lacey. That way we could cover more ground faster.
He planted a hand on my chest. “No. Something isn’t right.” Matching me almost in height, he leaned in close to my ear. “You stay with me.”
“We should split up,” I whispered.
The muted groan sounded again from a room close by, and this time it was followed by a thump, thump.
“Son, you’re with me.” His tone left no room for argument. “Stay close.” He readied his gun and headed right out of the sunroom back into the hall.
For a brief moment, I hesitated, searching the yard. The trees were as still as a rock, not a leaf moving or branch swaying. I didn’t even hear the crickets. It was as though someone or something had disturbed the nighttime ecosystem. My gut told me Lacey was out there somewhere. I wasn’t about to argue with my father. He was a trained soldier. So I tabled my gut feeling for now and went to join him.
When I reached the doorway to the office, my old man raised his voice. “Kade, call an ambulance. And hurry.”
For a split second, my mind blanked. Mr. Robinson was sprawled on the floor, his mouth, arms, and legs bound together with duct tape. The rug beneath him was soaked with blood at his head and near his leg. My father ripped off his shirt, wadded it into a ball, and pressed the fabric onto Mr. Robinson’s leg. His eyes seemed to plead with me as my father tried to stop the bleeding.
I scoured the room. The French doors behind the desk were wide open. A lamp sat askew on the floor, and a leather desk chair was toppled over in front of the couch beside Mr. Robinson.
“Son, I need you to call the ambulance.” His tone hardened. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
The word blood snapped me out of my stupor. In quick movements, I had my phone out of my jeans pocket and dialed 911. I described the scene to the calm, cool, and collected lady on the phone. Thank God someone was calm.
I gave the operator the address then asked, “Where are the cops? They should’ve been here by now.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Busy night. The nearest car is still ten minutes out.”
I growled as I hung up. I tore off my own T-shirt and gave it to my father. While he tied a tourniquet around Mr. Robinson’s left thigh, I removed the tape from his mouth.
He gulped in air. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. “Lacey. Where is she? I heard her arguing with that boy. Then a gun went off. Is she okay?” His voice was weak but frantic, his breathing extremely labored. “He came at me through the French doors. Before I could react, he rammed the butt of the shotgun into the back of my head. When I came to, I was tied up. He said he was waiting for Lacey. He wants revenge. He thinks she killed his father.”
My old man and I shared an unspoken plea from a son to a father. I couldn’t wait for the ambulance or the cops. Nor could I look at Mr. Robinson in good conscience knowing that his daughter, and the love of my fucking life, was somewhere with a guy who wanted… what? Given the gunshot to Mr. Robinson’s leg, I had a bad feeling Lacey would end up like him or worse, unless she was already… I’d kill myself if I didn’t do something to find my girl.
“Son, go. I’ll stay with Mr. Robinson. I need to keep pressure on the wound. You be careful.” Resignation infused my father’s tone. “You hear me? Remember what I taught you. Use your senses, and follow your gut. Do not, I repeat, do not let your guard down for one second.” His brown eyes held mine, steady and confident. Then a flash of worry washed over him before he banked all his emotions. “Only shoot if you have to. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” I jumped up. “Can I have your gun?” His had the one with the flashlight. I placed mine on the floor next to him.
“Gun is at my back.”
I grabbed it.
“Kade, please find her,” Mr. Robinson pleaded. “I can’t lose her.”
Neither could I. The adrenaline poured through my system as I flew through the French doors and out into the backyard, my gun out in front of me at the ready. Both sides of the yard were fenced in, but the back perimeter wasn’t. A small path through the dense wooded trees led to a creek that Lacey and I had ventured down to on occasion. Use your senses had been my father’s command.
I listened. Sirens sounded in the distance. I sniffed. Crazy. But I had a keen sense of smell, and Lacey’s shampoo had a strong orange scent. The only thing my nose picked up was the faint aroma of a sku
nk.
As I tuned out the blaring sirens, a rustling in the trees caught my attention. I darted my gaze from right to left in a slow, methodical sweep, using the light from the gun to cut through the darkness. A tall figure ran away from me, jumping over a branch. Then a gunshot echoed, followed by a wail of a scream.
I sprinted into the dense brush. When my feet landed on the dirt path, I slowed, listening, praying like a motherfucker that the shot hadn’t hit Lacey. Praying her heart was still beating. Praying I would feel her warm body in mine again. Praying we would walk down the aisle one day. Praying we would have kids together. Praying my dream of her and me together forever wasn’t just a dream.
I was almost to the creek when someone roared and followed it up with, “Fuck!”
I froze.
A man began moaning. “This isn’t over, Lacey. I’ll get what I came here for. I’ll get my revenge. I swear, if it’s last thing I do,” he yelled, as though he was admitting defeat. Or was it a trick?
I killed the light on the gun. I didn’t want to be lit up like a target on a battlefield. I blinked, adjusting my eyes to the darkness. Then I swung to the right and went in search of the asshole. I maneuvered through brush and around trees, guided by the tiniest glow that sprayed down between the tree’s branches from the moon above. His moans and a slew of swear words about his leg pulled me toward him.
As I drew close, his moans died. I edged back a step, scanned the immediate area, then listened. Ahead of me was an open area laden with rocks, small and large, and several tree stumps. The creek lay beyond. Crickets sang. Water trickled, and a shimmer of light reflected off the glassy surface of the creek.
Where was the fucker? I checked left then right then repeated the same arc before a sound split the air.
Chik, chik.
My knees locked into place. Instantly, chills blanketed my body, making me sweat. Fuck me.
“I never liked you,” Shaun said at my back.
The air left my lungs. How the hell did he get behind me? With the Glock ready to fire, I pivoted ever so slowly, like the ballerina in my mother’s jewelry box. Cautiously, I switched on the flashlight. When my gaze landed on the asshole, one side of his mouth curled into a freakishly sadistic grin. He had that shotgun pointed at me. A standoff.
“Where’s Lacey?” Instinct drove me to look away, to search for Lacey, but the minute I diverted my gaze was the minute I died. Never take your eye off the enemy—wisdom my old man had drilled into my brothers and me.
“Floating face first down the creek,” he said with a deadpan expression.
I wrestled with the mental picture of Lacey’s dead body floating downstream as I locked my elbows to keep them from buckling. “Bullshit. If she were, you wouldn’t be standing here.” I strained every muscle to keep from either shooting him or charging the motherfucker. I couldn’t risk it. I had a sinking feeling he’d pull that trigger.
I counted the rounds. Pump-action shotguns held at most five, one in the chamber and three or four in the magazine tube. He’d used one on her old man, one to blow the glass out in the sunroom, and one a few minutes ago. I had to assume he had the shotgun fully loaded. Therefore, if my assumptions were correct, he had one or maybe two rounds left.
An eerie silence sealed us into a bubble only he and I could break. We glared at one another. My mind worked to find a way out without any of the guns firing. I didn’t want to shoot him. Well, I did, but certainly not to kill him. He’d made Lacey run for her life, and God knew what else. He’d shot her father, and his old man had stabbed Lacey and killed her mother and sister. It wasn’t up to me to be judge and jury. I might be a dick, but I wasn’t a murderer.
“I didn’t count on killing anyone except Lacey and her father. Now, though, third’s a charm.” He held the gun steady.
“She didn’t kill your old man. The cops did. I was there.”
“All the more reason for me to kill you, too.”
“Don’t you think enough people have died?” I said as though I was talking Hunt down off a ledge.
I caught movement behind Shaun. A shadow emerged, and my heart sped up. Lacey was creeping toward us with a branch the size of a baseball bat in her hands.
Chapter 41
Lacey
I gripped a two-inch-thick branch in both hands as blood dripped into my right eye. I’d cut my eyebrow when I’d sprinted past a protruding tree limb after the shotgun went off.
“Something wrong, Maxwell?” Shaun—Barry—asked.
Tingles cascaded down my arms at the sight of Kade. He was here.
“Nah, I was just thinking. What would I do in your shoes?”
Suddenly, panic clawed its way up my chest as I examined the scene. A Glock didn’t hold a candle to a shotgun. Somehow I had to distract Barry. Otherwise, Kade would be the next victim on his list, and I wasn’t losing another loved one.
Barry laughed cruelly. “You don’t have the balls to live in my shoes.”
“You’re right. But I do have the balls to—” In one motion Kade tossed the Glock toward my feet as he charged Barry, knocking the shotgun out of his hands.
I traded the branch for the Glock.
“Now, let’s do what real men do,” Kade said, throwing a punch into Barry’s jaw. “Unless you don’t have the balls.”
Barry growled as he turned to his left and bore his gaze into me. “Trying to be manly for your girl?”
I aimed the Glock at him, desperately wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.
As Kade went to throw another punch, Barry dove to the ground and came up with the shotgun in his hands.
“Real men use guns,” Barry mocked. “Now let’s see who wins this battle.” The barrel was trained on Kade.
“So do girls.” I shuffled closer to Barry.
“Lacey, shoot him.” Kade raised his hands in a placating gesture.
Static crackled over a radio. A deep baritone voice carried on the breeze, doling out commands. The cops were headed our way.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Who will be the first to go?” Barry sang.
My knees locked. Fear comingled with anger as my heart jumped into my throat. If I didn’t do something, Kade and I would be dead. The only way out of this was to shoot Barry.
I steadied my hand, inhaled, then squeezed the trigger. When I did, two shots echoed and two bodies fell to the ground.
“Kade! Kade!” Oh, please don’t be hurt or dead. I began to tremble.
“Over here,” one of the cops shouted.
Branches snapped. Radios crackled. Voices droned. A loud buzzing pierced my ears. I couldn’t make heads or tails of who was talking. I labored for air as I ran to Kade.
“Oh, my God. Are you hurt?” I felt every part of his body, praying, hoping, pleading that he wasn’t.
My heart slowed as he sat up.
Kade combed a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, feeling his arms and chest. “Fuck,” he said. His voice was strangled. “That was close. You must’ve pulled the trigger a second before he did. When the bullet struck him, it must’ve thrown him off.” He looked past me.
I was about to throw my arms around him when he took the gun out of my hands and jumped up. He marched over to Barry.
“You shot me.” Barry groaned, holding his knee.
“You’re lucky she didn’t kill you,” Kade chided.
“Hand me the gun,” one of the police officers said. It was Officer Yancey. He retrieved the shotgun that lay an arm’s length from Barry.
Kade hesitated.
“Go ahead,” Barry taunted. “I dare you.”
Kade growled. “I’m not a murderer. You need help.” Kade handed the gun to Yancey. He reached out to take hold of my hand, but Barry clutched my ankle.
Barry yanked me down on to
p of him. I scrambled to stand, and pain zapped me in my leg where his father had stabbed me. He wrenched on my hair, keeping me fastened to him.
“Let her go,” Officer Yancey said.
“Not a chance.”
I looked at Kade, and his eyes went wide. Then a cold, sharp blade was at my neck. I gulped. Fear wasn’t an option anymore. Pure, raw rage blinded me. My limbs hurt from running. I had cuts on my knees and over my eye. I was drenched in sweat, and I’d had enough of this asshat.
“Son,” Officer Yancey warned. “You don’t want to hurt her.”
“Fuck you. You don’t know what I want.” Barry’s lips grazed my ear. “We can die together.”
Kade moved.
“Don’t,” I said to Kade. The only way to get out of this without getting hurt was to distract Barry. I clamped down on the knee I’d shot.
Barry let out a blood-curdling scream and unleashed me.
Kade rushed forward and hauled me up. Officer Yancey confiscated Barry’s knife then handcuffed him as he continued to fight and swear.
Lights bobbed in the trees. More people swarmed the area.
Kade drew me into his comforting arms. “I can’t believe you’re alive. I thought I’d lost you again. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He felt my hair, my face, my arms.
“I’ll be fine.” I peered up at him. Relief was stamped in his copper eyes.
“I’m proud of you. You didn’t black out. You didn’t panic. You were brave, baby.”
I almost laughed. I’d been in panic mode since I’d come home. I stiffened. “Dad. Is my dad okay?”
“Your dad is dead.” Barry sneered.
My pulse revved up. Kade snarled at Barry.
“Lacey, your dad is alive and on the way to the hospital,” Officer Yancey said.
I silently said a prayer as the adrenaline drained from me and I sobbed into Kade’s chest.
The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 61