by Keaton, Elle
“I’m going to assume not by natural causes? I knew the guy, sort of, and while he might be the type to cut corners, he doesn’t seem like a smuggler.”
Niall wondered that himself. “My guess is because of the girl. Prescott was either also in on Petyr’s operation or figured it out somehow and confronted him about it. We can speculate all we want, but I don’t know if we’ll ever learn all the answers.”
Just as Shay took the turn to his house, the streetlights went out, as did all the porch and interior lights that had been on.
“Damn. Power’s out,” Shay grumbled.
“I’m not surprised, with this wind,” Niall replied.
Shay approached the end of the street where his rental was located and slowed to a stop in front of the garage. “You think the kid is okay?” he asked. “Prescott’s house is just over there.” He pointed through the darkness to a house Niall couldn’t see. “You said Prescott’s nephew Cody found his body?”
“I’m already in enough trouble with Mat. I’m not going to check on the kid before Mat and the feds have a chance to interview him.”
Shay fished a garage door remote out of the console and stared at it for a second. “Damn, that’s not going to work.” Instead he parked in front of the garage, blocking the door.
They had to cross the moat-slash-canyon to get into the house. At this time of night, with all the lights out, it was dark and especially creepy. The wind continued to gust, making branches scrape together ominously. Leaves were blowing off the maple and larch trees along the road. Niall couldn’t see the water through the brush and shrubs at the end of the street; it was just a dark void. Even the stars were dark, hidden by a thick blanket of clouds. If there was a moon, he couldn’t see it.
“I’m not saying we need to check on him,” Shay grumbled. “Just, he’s a nice kid, and while I’ve never discovered a dead body, I figure it has to be unsettling.”
“You’ve only officially been back on the island for a few days. How is it you know all these people?” Niall opened the car door for Fenrir, and the dog leapt elegantly out as if he were a celebrity.
“Niall, I never really left—not like you did. I’ve always come back to visit family and just to unwind.”
“I suppose. Jesus Christ,” Niall complained as he hunched his shoulders against the weather and began to walk toward the house, “this bridge is creepy.’
“I don’t mind, and… I’ve always wanted my own moat.”
Niall chuckled. Fenrir stopped to sniff something as they crossed the weird footbridge.
Shay fumbled with his keys for a second, muttering something Niall didn’t quite catch before pushing the front door open. “Let me see, I think there’s a generator,” Shay said. “I’m trying to remember where it’s located. There’s a rental cheat sheet around here somewhere—it’s probably in the garage.” He dropped his keys onto a small table in the entryway and moved on, ahead of Niall.
“Wait,” Niall murmured. Something was wrong. Even with the wind and the power out, things were too quiet, there was a stillness he didn’t like. And where had Fenrir gotten to? Had he come inside? The dog did have a mind of his own.
“I’ve been waiting for you to get back.” The words came out of the dark, chilling Niall to his soul.
“Shit!” Shay exclaimed, stepping back painfully onto Niall’s foot.
The weapon Franjo Petyr held in his hand glinted ever so slightly, catching stray light from somewhere.
There was a popping sound, and they all blinked as the lights turned back on, the various digital clocks beeped, and the refrigerator rumbled to life. Either the generator had automatically kicked in or the power had come back on. Niall didn’t know which it was, and he wasn’t looking behind him at the street to find out while Petyr’s weapon was aimed at them.
“There’s two of us and only one of you,” Niall growled. Where was the damn dog?
“I don’t care.” Petyr waved the gun between the two of them. “You are the one who will get me off the island.” For just a moment he looked directly at Niall—sadly, he wasn’t foolish enough to let Niall keep his attention.
“I honestly don’t know how that’s gonna happen,” Niall said. “The island is locked up tight.” At least he hoped the feds were doing their thing.
Petyr was an oddly indescribable person. He wasn’t as tall as Niall and didn’t carry as much muscle, but he looked strong—and he was the one holding the gun. Niall moved to stand between him and Shay, protecting Shay as much as he could.
“Such a sacrifice,” Petyr said, noticing Niall’s stance. “Willing to give yourself up for Delacombe.”
“What do you want?” Niall demanded.
“I already told you, to get off the island. It’s convenient your long-lost half brother is here to help me.”
Petyr’s dark eyes held a menace Niall hadn’t witnessed in a very long time, not since a hostage situation when he was a beat cop. He was trying to come up with a plan, but—
“Get into the kitchen.” Petyr waved his gun again. “I’ll shoot the damn lawyer if you don’t move fast enough for me.”
Niall moved. Petyr kept his weapon pointed at Shay. He’d already killed one man today; another wouldn’t mean anything to him.
Shay hadn’t uttered a word since they’d entered the house and found Petyr waiting for them. Niall wanted to say something—to warn him not to do anything foolish. Petyr looked grim. Maybe he’d reached the end of the line, knew this was his final stand. That idea wasn’t reassuring.
Niall’s weapon was tucked into his shoulder holster under his jacket, but it would do him no good if Petyr shot Shay before Niall could pull it out. Petyr wasn’t some petty criminal unused to using weapons, he was a cold-blooded killer.
Shay’s kitchen stretched the width of the house. The cooktop and fridge were set against the wall opposite the picture windows that looked out over Haro Strait. The sink and dishwasher were fixed into the long, freestanding marble-topped island in the middle of the kitchen. On the other side of the island was a table with eight chairs around it—Niall thought that was overkill; he didn’t have that many friends he’d want to spend a weekend with—and past the table was the slider out to the wraparound deck.
There were windows in all the exterior walls, reflecting their images back at them, the inky dark acting as a disturbing mirror. Still, Niall knew Mat was out there, at Prescott’s house with the feds.
Petyr noted the direction of Niall’s gaze and glanced over his shoulder, then back at Niall again. “Guess they found somebody dead over there.”
“Yeah, you’re a tough guy. Killing people who don’t know how to fight back. Did you shoot Prescott in the back of the head, execution style? And assaulting a girl half your size. Did you feel better afterward? Do you think when they pull up your mug shot she won’t be able to pick you out?” Niall was going to try the age-old “aggravate the perp as much as possible and see if he’ll make a mistake” strategy.
It could work, or it could go horribly wrong. But he and Shay were both going to end up at the bottom of the moat, or worse, the bottom of Haro Strait if he didn’t try something. “Of course you felt better. You’re the kind of guy who likes to pick on people smaller than you are. It makes you feel strong, because deep inside you’re just a scared little boy. You probably told yourself she deserved it… or maybe you were honest, and you told her—”
Petyr lashed out with his gun hand, striking Niall across the face. He was faster than Niall expected, and strong. The blow fucking hurt. Niall stumbled backward, folding in on himself, trying to reach his weapon. Shay made a little sound, but Petyr brought the gun up again, pointing it at him.
“Shut the fuck up,” Petyr said through gritted teeth, then focused on Niall again. “Sit the fuck down before I put a hole in your friend. That fucking girl would be dead already if Prescott hadn’t interfered.”
The weapon was pointed directly at Shay, with no wavering. Petyr wore an expression men d
id when there was no way out. His plan was clearly to escape or die trying. Something perverse in Niall wanted to keep the man alive so the feds could get their hands on him. Petyr wouldn’t be so arrogant then.
Limping around the island to the kitchen table with Petyr following him, Niall sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs facing the side windows, trying to make it seem as if the smack in the face hurt worse than it had. It did hurt. He still had scrapes from the damn building falling on him, and he was pretty sure Petyr’s blow had reopened some of them.
As he sat, Niall paid attention to the house, trying to hear what it was telling him. He listened for Fenrir—shouldn’t he be hearing his claws ticking against the hardwood flooring? Fenrir could be in the living room or somewhere else in the house that was carpeted—had he even come inside? Maybe Niall had imagined it.
“Tie him up.” Petyr directed his command at Shay, waving at the counter with his other hand.
A nylon rope lay there. Niall hadn’t noticed it until now. He had very little time to try to change the outcome of this situation. His gun was still in his shoulder holster, and Petyr hadn’t noticed it yet.
“Hands behind your back.”
As he began to comply, Niall’s jacket gaped open. He hoped the holster was still hidden by his shirt but figured that was unlikely. From one of the other rooms he thought he heard something—a tentative step, a tick against tile flooring—but he couldn’t be sure. The hallway? The kitchen? He prayed with everything inside of him for Fenrir to stay out of the way.
“What was that?” Petyr demanded, his eyes moving back and forth as he looked around the room but didn’t see anything.
“I don’t know,” Shay responded. “The wind? Maybe a tree branch or something. Are you afraid of the dark, Petyr?”
“How do you know my name?”
Shay made a scoffing sound. Niall wanted to tell him to shut his trap, but he was trying to figure out how he was going to reach his gun, and Shay was a decent distraction. Petyr was going to kill both of them if he didn’t do something. Niall had to get to his gun before his hands were bound. For the moment, instead of putting them behind his back, he carefully rested them on his thighs. Blood, or perhaps sweat, dripped down the side of his face, and his cheek throbbed.
“We know who you are and what you do,” Shay said. “You won’t make it off the island alive.”
“For god’s sake, Shay, don’t aggravate the creep into killing us now.”
Petyr chuckled; it wasn’t a nice sound.
“You can’t kill us both. You already said you need one of us to get you off the island.” Shay’s voice was calm and controlled. Niall knew, now, why he’d won so many cases. “And if you shoot us here, you’ll surely get the attention of the police who are just a few hundred feet away. I can see police lights behind you, and they’d be over here in seconds.”
If Shay was hoping Petyr would look the other way, it didn’t work.
“I’m not worried about the police.” Petyr’s tone was arrogant. “The sheriff’s department is looking, maybe for me, but I will be gone before their pathetic rent-a-cops can find me.”
“You’re not worried about the feds either?” Shay inquired. “They’ve joined the party, in case you were curious.”
“Stop talking,” Petyr ordered, spittle flying. “No more words from you.”
It was now or never. Shay was as safe as he was ever going to be, behind him and slightly to his left, with Niall between him and Petyr. Slumping forward and moving both arms slightly back, as if he was complying with Petyr’s demand to put his hands behind him, Niall instead reached for the Glock under his right arm. Being left-handed could be a pain in the ass, but it often took assailants by surprise, and Niall didn’t miss the shock on Petyr’s face when he pulled his gun out and squeezed the trigger.
He was out of practice, or maybe the blow to his face had done more damage than he realized. Niall’s first shot grazed Petyr’s arm and blew out the glass behind him. The second got him in the top of his shoulder as Niall dropped to the floor. Petyr grabbed at his shoulder but still managed to squeeze off several shots—at least one of which took out one of the windows facing the strait—before dropping to the floor on the other side of the island where Niall couldn’t see him. He could hear him, though, breathing heavily and muttering in what was presumably Ukrainian.
“Shay, get down,” Niall ordered.
“You think you could’ve warned a guy?” Shay’s voice rose, incredulous. “I didn’t even know you were carrying!”
“Shut it.”
Niall was thinking he didn’t know how badly he’d injured Petyr, when the lights went out and the house was plunged into darkness again. The wind, which had been strong all day, had picked up, and it started to rain. Niall could hear drops hitting the deck as the wind gusted in through the broken windows.
Playing with guns in the dark was never a good idea. He heard a shuffling sound and realized Petyr was likely trying to get to the front door while they couldn’t see him. Did he have a vehicle? Niall hadn’t noticed one when he and Shay arrived, but that didn’t really mean anything.
“What’s your problem, Petyr? I thought you promised to kill us.”
“Niall, do you really think you should be antagonizing the man? He’s had a hard evening, what with the murdering not going his way.”
Shuffle, shuffle. Rasp. The wind was making Niall hear things that weren’t there. It was branches scraping together, not Fenrir.
Ignoring the pain in his head, Niall rose to his feet and rolled over the top of the island to the floor on the other side. Petyr was not there. Niall dropped into a crouch. If the power decided to come back on, he wanted to present as small a target as possible.
Tick.
Niall crawled on his hands and knees in the direction he thought Petyr had gone. He could hear someone breathing in the dark, but it was impossible to tell if it was Shay or the gunman. The way the wind was blowing through the shattered windows was making it hard to discern where sounds were coming from.
Something, a movement maybe, caught Niall’s attention. Moving as fast as he could on his hands and knees, his gun digging into his palm, he crawled into the hallway leading to the front door.
A darker shadow against the black was making its way to the exit. Getting his feet under him, Niall leapt, landing half on top of Petyr and mashing him into the floor. Petyr’s gun skittered off into the dark. Niall shoved his own weapon against the back of the man’s neck. He struggled, but Niall had him in a wrestling hold.
“Shay, bring the rope over here and tie this jackass up while I hold him down.” Because god fucking dammit, he didn’t carry handcuffs anymore.
Petyr bucked underneath Niall, but Niall grabbed his arms and jerked them behind him, pushing one arm upward, discouraging him from struggling—also, it must hurt, and Niall didn’t have a problem with that. He had a height and weight advantage; the man wasn’t going anywhere.
The electricity came back on again as Shay knelt behind Niall and began to tie Petyr’s ankles together. After Niall was confident Petyr wasn’t going anywhere, he rolled out of his way so Shay could wrap the rope around Petyr’s wrists, cinching it so if the man struggled it would only become tighter.
Niall stood up, his heart racing. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. “Shay, find his gun and kick it over here.”
Petyr spewed obscenities at them all the while, threatening to murder them, that he would send his men after them, that they would never know peace again.
“It’s tempting to clock him so we don’t have to listen to this bullshit,” Niall said.
“As a lawyer, maybe not the best idea.”
“He was trying to kill us. And he still wants to.”
“As Shay, I’m with you.”
The front door, which had never been properly shut, was unceremoniously nudged open, and Niall looked up, blinking at… his dog, tiptoeing into the house with a very guilty expression on his d
oggy face.
“What does Fenrir have in his mouth?” he asked Shay. “Has he been outside this entire time?” Niall groaned, remembering the last time Fenrir had brought him a gift. “This had better not be another bone.”
Petyr started shrieking like a baby as Fenrir drew closer to him, and Niall snickered. He imagined that from where Petyr was lying on the floor, Fenrir looked enormous—and something was hanging from his fearsome maw. Plus he had leaves and twigs tangled in his coat, making him look like some otherworldly creature.
“Get it away from me!” Petyr was trying to crawl away.
“Scared of dogs, are you?” Niall sneered. “Maybe you’ve used them against people, and you know what they can do when they’re mistreated or made to fear humans.”
“It’s a kitten,” Shay exclaimed.
“He’s pretty sweet, but I wouldn’t call him a kitten.” Niall was watching Petyr and enjoying the man’s desperate keening. It was probably a terrible character failing on his part.
“No, Niall, Fenrir has a kitten.”
Niall spun around to take a better look at his dog, who did in fact seem to be gripping something between his jaws.
“The hell.” Niall stepped toward Fenrir, holding his hand out. “Whatcha got there? Can I see?”
Fenrir carefully stepped around the writhing Petyr. Niall could have sworn the wolfhound narrowed his eyes at the creep. When he got close enough to Niall, he opened his mouth and let Niall retrieve what was one of the most bedraggled kittens he’d ever seen. Until it moved slightly, Niall wasn’t even sure it was alive; the creature was so small it fit in the palm of his hand.
“Really?” he said to the dog as he cradled the filthy beast against his chest, “I’m fighting for my life and you’re… rescuing kittens?”
25
Saturday—Mat