“Time to choose. Come on, Ian. You were always so quick to make decisions.” She strolled back toward Quinlan.
What the hell did he do in this situation? Disarm her? But there were too many possible casualties.
Without warning, she aimed and shot his brother in the thigh.
“No!”
His yell mixed with his mother’s and his father’s. Darya’s scream stifled to a whimper.
The deranged woman merely quirked a brow at him. “So, which will it be? Who will go first?”
He would kill her.
“Or I can just play with them for a while?”
His brother hadn’t even moved. Still he was slumped in the chair. What the fuck had she given him for a bullet wound to not even penetrate? He should know, bullets freaking hurt like a mother. From here he could see the blood soaking his brother’s pants. Was it soaking too quickly? Had she hit an artery? Please, no.
Elianya pointed the gun at his parents again.
He could have sighed as she left Darya out.
Her husky laugh blacked the room. “Your daughter here will be coming back with me. I can make a lot of money off of her.”
Something in him snapped and he simply stared at her. And stared. The edges of his vision cleared, sharpened, focused. He stared even as he felt the blessed coldness seeping over him, the ice that preceded the action. He calmed his breathing, felt his heart slow.
He didn’t blink, didn’t look away from the woman.
She blinked and took a step back. “Well . . .” She shook her head. “You should decide.”
Ian took a deep breath and stood. She flinched. Good. And she took another step back, even better.
“You’ve taken my guns, Elianya,” he said, his voice low and cold. “Surely you’re not afraid of me.”
Her chin jutted up. He wanted to get her away from them. Away from his parents, his brother, and sure as hell his daughter.
“I fear no man.”
Staring at her another moment, he said, “You will.”
She cocked a brow. “I doubt it.”
He only smiled.
Elianya frowned, motioned with the gun to the people on the couch. “I haven’t got all night. First? Well, it should be one of your parents since if I blow your brother . . .” She laughed again. “You see what I mean. Then it would be over for everyone.”
*****
Rori decided to hell with this. She quietly ran down the back stairs to the kitchen, where Becky hummed and slammed stuff into bowls. She took one look at Rori and startled. “What are you about, then?”
“Shh . . . and stay in here.” She started out the door then turned back. “I mean it, Becky. Do not come out of this kitchen for any reason or you just might get someone killed.”
Rori drew her gun and hurried toward the living room.
Outside the hall doorway, she saw John crouched low and holding his gun. He shook his head at her.
A bomb. A detonator. A gun. Five hostages.
But the woman didn’t know who she was. She smiled at John, hurried back down the hallway and outside. At least she still had her coat on. She ran around the front of the house. She shoved her gun . . . coat pocket and shoot through it? Or leave it at her back and pull it?
Well, if back, it could be seen. Of course it would be hard to miss either way.
Bloody hell, she shoved it in her waist at the small of her back and pulled her shirt out.
She opened the door and slammed it, muttering, “Bloody-ass animals. Bambi would just have to run in front of me. First the rabbit, then the damn deer.” She turned the corner and gasped. “What the bloody hell is going on, then?”
Ian glared at her.
“Ah, the little wife.” She motioned with her 9-millimeter.
Well, damn. The woman should really try a different gun.
Rori stepped cautiously into the room. Play the stupid wife.
“What’s going on? Ian?” She put a quiver in her voice.
Elianya Hellinski was beautiful, those large slanted eyes, jet-black hair, a body a centerfold would envy. She motioned with her gun for Rori to come closer. Detonator in one hand, gun in another.
Rori walked up to the woman, trying to act afraid. Not that it was too bloody hard. If they all made it out of here alive, she had several things to say to Ian. She and the woman stood on this side of the couch. Ian as well, but closer to Jock, who also stood now, but on the other side of the sofa.
“I’ll give you any amount of money you want,” the old man told her.
Elianya laughed. “Oh, dear man, I could buy out your entire operation. I don’t need your money. What I want is your son to beg me.”
Ian looked at her, his hands up as he tried to put himself between her and his family. “You want me to beg, Elianya. Then I’m begging. Please let them go. You don’t need them. You want me.”
She smiled. “Say it again.”
He gritted his teeth, the muscle ticking in his jaw, his eyes as cold and merciless as Rori had ever seen them. “Please.”
Elianya motioned with the gun. “On your knees.”
His eyes met Rori’s and in them she saw his anger, his fear, his love. He dropped to his knees.
Oh, God.
Rori stood closest to the door, Ian stood almost directly in front of his father, who thankfully remained on the other side of the couch. Elianya was between Rori and them. Kaitlyn and Darya were still on the couch and Quinlan moaned in the chair.
“Oh, my Gawd,” Rori drawled, looking closer at Quinlan. His chin almost at his chest, sweat dripping off his forehead. Blood stained his thigh and his pants’ leg. “What is the matter with him?”
It drew the woman’s attention from Ian and she glanced at Rori, then back to Ian. “Is she really your wife? I didn’t figure she was your type, darling.”
Rori jerked. “Darling? You’re calling my . . .” she said, stepping closer, “. . . my husband darling?”
First priority was the bomb. She’d leave the gun to Ian.
“Yes.”
“My husband.”
Elianya looked slyly at Ian. “You didn’t tell her about us?”
She looked from one to the other. “Us? What the bloody hell is she talking about, Ian?”
Rori strode over to him, letting her anger at the woman boil over to Ian. “Us?”
Ian shrugged. “It’s not what you think?”
“Not what I bloody think? Think?” She took a deep breath, braced her feet. Ian’s eyes flashed and she whirled on Elianya. “Did you sleep with my husband?” She willed tears to her eyes.
Elianya shook her head and laughed. “Yes. Several times and several ways.”
“You bitch!” Whirling back to Ian, she cried, “And you . . . you . . . how can I ever trust you to—” She kicked straight back, dead center at the woman’s chest, and grabbed the woman’s wrist, twisting it until Elianya dropped the detonator into Rori’s hand. She tossed it over her shoulder to Ian.
As Elianya brought the gun up, Rori pivoted and kicked again, but the woman had turned. Elianya looked at Ian, then past him.
As Rori tried to kick her again, pulling her own gun free, Elianya leaned to the side, aimed and shot.
Rori heard Ian’s shout, but didn’t turn. She kicked the woman under the chin, Elianya’s head snapping back, the gun shooting to the ceiling, even as she aimed her own at the fallen woman.
*****
The sting of the bullet bit into Ian’s shoulder. He slammed into his father, taking them both to the floor.
His eyes met Jock’s and all he saw in his father’s eyes was pain. God, no.
“Ian?” his dad whispered.
“It’s okay, Dad. It’ll be okay.” He tried to roll off, but pain bit into his chest and his vision wavered.
“Ian? No. No. No.” His father’s voice sounded warbled.
The detonator. He felt the box in his hand and prayed to God he hadn’t endangered them.
“Dad . . .” he his
sed through the pain burning in his chest.
*****
John ran into the room. “You’re as bad as Ian is. Impulsive idiocy for lucky fools.” He kicked the gun out of Elianya’s hand. She was out cold.
Rori took a deep breath and turned. Kaitlyn was on her knees on the floor. Rori didn’t see Jock or Ian. She hurried over and saw Ian lying atop his father, a hole in his back and Jock shaking his head, muttering, “No. No.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
Rori leapt over the couch, even as she heard the rip of tape from across the room.
“Ian hit?” John yelled.
Rori turned him over. No exit wound. Bloody hell. He moaned and glared up at her. “If you ever, ever do anything so fucking stupid again, I swear I will have your ass.” He hissed an inhale through gritted teeth.
She was so relieved tears stung her eyes. “Stay still.”
“Rori!” John yelled.
“Yeah, Ian’s hit, but I don’t think too bad.” She prayed it wasn’t lodged in his lung or worse. Bloody hell, she couldn’t think.
The sound of a helicopter chopped through the air. Thank God.
“Detonator,” Ian muttered.
She looked in his hand; he’d caught it and still held it cradled in his palm.
Jock pulled himself up and knelt over his son.
John came over and looked for himself. He helped roll Ian onto his back, felt his vitals.
Mrs. Kinncaid was looking at Rori from Quinlan’s side, where’d she’d already tied off his wound with . . . a curtain cord?
Rori smiled slightly. “I think Ian’ll be all right.”
For a second, Kaitlyn’s eyes dropped to Ian on the floor, before focusing on Quinlan again. Her hands slapped his face. “Come on, Quin! Damn it! Damn it! Someone get this damn thing off my son!”
“Mrs. Kinncaid,” John said. “A bomb squad is coming. I’m not touching that until one arrives. I don’t care for anything to go wrong. When help arrives, tell them Quinlan’s overdosed on a type of ecstasy and roofies. A chemical blend of both. He’s your more critical, especially since the bitch put a bullet in him as well.” He slapped Ian’s good arm. “This bloke here will be just fine.” To Ian he said, “I won the bet.”
“What bet?” Ian’s mouth was white-lined and hard, his lips thinned.
“Which of us would get shot next.” John looked at Elianya, his eyes hard. “Roth is bad. I think one of the bullets caught his lung.” Leaning over Ian, he said, “I’ve got to go.”
Ian nodded. “Call me.”
Rori glanced over her shoulder to see Darya scamper off the couch and wedge her way to Ian. She put her hand on his and said, “Papa.”
Chapter 31
Elianya Hellinski looked at the man who was slipping into a wet suit. He slung the scuba tanks onto his back.
“Let’s talk about this.”
He stopped and looked at her, his dark brown eyes devoid of mercy. “I’ve dreamed for years what I’d do to you. But I thought this was fitting. Unfortunately, I don’t have time for more.”
She pulled against her bound wrists, looked down at the bomb strapped to her chest. “I didn’t mean—”
He whirled and leaned down low into her face. “You meant exactly that, Elianya. You murdered children. You’ve hidden that fact. You profit from their pain.”
“You don’t want to do this,” she said, lowering her voice.
His eyes were hard and unforgiving, as she’d never seen them. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Somehow she’d get out of this. Without another word, he walked out of the cabin and up the steps.
She had no idea where they were, only that they were on a boat. He’d told her she could scream all she wanted and no one would hear her.
Something banged on the deck and she wiggled again. She was not about to die. Not now.
She heard the splash.
God. Her heart slammed in her ribs. He wouldn’t really do it. He wouldn’t.
She didn’t know how long she sat there. That was all it was. Just a terror tactic. Tell her it was a bomb and horrify her.
He’d loved her once too. He wouldn’t kill her.
More time ticked away. Elianya strained against her bonds, but there was no give.
She took a deep breath.
The world exploded.
*****
Jock paced the confines of the waiting room. Kaitlyn was down the hall lying down in one of the empty rooms. It was either that or he and the boys were going to have her admitted. She had been acting off all damn evening, not that he could blame her.
When Aiden said they wanted the nurse to check his blood pressure, Jock had said fine, worried himself. His blood pressure was fine, surprisingly. Kaitlyn’s, on the other hand, was up. She was stressed and more upset than he’d ever seen her. The doctor finally just administered a sedative. Jock knew he and the boys would pay hell when she woke up in the morning. So be it. There was too much right now, he couldn’t worry about her too. If she wasn’t going to rest on her own, then they’d simply force her body to rest for her.
He raked his hands through his hair and checked the clock again. He had stayed in the room with Kaitlyn until he knew she was out, then he’d started to walk the halls.
It had been hours. Hours and still he didn’t know for certain how either of his sons were doing. The doctors said they were both doing fine, but both were hooked to more machines and wires . . . Neither had awakened yet. Everyone was more worried about Quinlan. Without a doubt.
God. He sat in one of the chairs, glad no one else was around. The boys were somewhere, their wives . . . kids . . . Parents were supposed to protect their children.
His heart slammed in his chest.
Quinlan had coded when they’d reached the ER here. Jock’s hands shook. Goddamn it! He swiped his eyes and took a deep breath. But they’d managed to bring him back and flushed his system. Jock didn’t know how or care how, the fact his son was alive was all that mattered right now.
And Ian . . .
Jesus. When that bitch had come in and waved the gun around, the bomb strapped to Quin . . .
He propped his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. He knew that woman wouldn’t have thought twice about shooting any of them, hadn’t even blinked when she’d put a bullet in Quinlan and then Ian. Hell, she’d aimed at him. At him. Jock had seen the satisfaction in her demented eyes as she’d pulled the trigger and then . . .
Ian. Ian had slammed into him and he’d known, known the second that damn bullet hit his son, felt the thumping impact, heard Ian’s hiss of breath.
And fear had sucked all the air from his own lungs, all the feeling from his fingers. For seconds he couldn’t move. All he saw were those eyes he’d passed to his son, staring back into his own. All he could think of was Ian as a little boy and how he’d wasted so much time with his son because of pride.
Dad. Ian had called him Dad and it had been a long damn time since he’d heard that word from that boy.
It’s okay, Dad. It’ll be okay.
Well, it wasn’t okay. Okay was not kids taking bullets for their parents.
He took a deep breath and wondered where he’d gone so wrong. Why couldn’t his sons find happiness without pain and danger stalking them? He’d joked with Kaitlyn it was because of her grandmother’s curse on their children. But honestly, he’d never put stock in the old woman’s angry epithets. Though now he wondered if his children truly were cursed as she’d yelled all those years ago—that his and Kaitlyn’s children would have to fight hard to find peace and happiness in love. Whether or not the woman affected them all, his children fought hard for what they had.
He didn’t want them fighting this hard. God, not this hard. His fingers dug into his skull. One son shot trying to save him. And the other still unconscious.
Please, please, please, let them be all right, he prayed. Please. Please.
Jock startled at the touch on his wrist. He looked up and
into Darya’s blue, worried eyes.
She smiled, her cheeks dimpling, and patted his hand. She held up her teddy bear to him.
He sniffed, leaned up and patted his lap. “You want to sit here with me, princess?”
Her head cocked to the side, then she climbed up into his lap. She was so small, so little.
He took another deep breath and laid his head atop her black curls. He glanced up at the movement in the doorway and saw Rori. The look of relief on her face when she saw Darya told him she’d been looking for her. Without another word, she turned and walked back down the hall.
Darya snuggled up to him, holding the bear tight between both of them. The tick of the clock echoed in the still room.
He kissed the top of her head.
“Papa,” she whispered.
He rocked her. “Yes, your papa is something else.”
Darya closed her eyes as the big man rocked her. He smelled like candies and spices. She turned her head and breathed deep.
She realized he was like her new papa. This man often seemed mean, but he really was a helper. She wondered if he ever rescued little girls like her new papa. Had this man been nice to someone he hadn’t needed to be nice to?
She frowned and stuck her thumb into her mouth. She wanted her papa. She hadn’t seen her new papa since all the ambulance people came and took him away. But he’d had blood on his back and she didn’t want him to die.
They told her he was fine.
So why couldn’t she see him?
What if he went away too? What if the monsters took him away like they did Zoy? She knew, even as her heartbeat fluttered in her chest, that she’d never see Zoy again.
“Papa,” she whispered, leaning back and looking at this big man who held her, another who would keep her safe.
He smiled down at her, reached over and picked up a book.
The pictures in this one weren’t nearly as pretty as the one he read her at home, but it was still nice to listen to him talk, even if she couldn’t understand him. The deep rumble from his chest lulled her to peace.
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