Stall him until the police get here.
She focused on Lionel, searching for a weakness. He huffed as he moved up the stairs, his thighs and stomach jiggling with excess fat. He wasn’t as fit as he used to be, and she was lean and powerful. Anxiety had driven her to develop and maintain physical strength in case she ever had to fight back again.
Today was that day.
I’ve spent ten years preparing for this moment.
She breathed hard, her heart slamming against her chest. I can do this. She would put an end to his control over her. She was done looking over her shoulder.
No matter the cost.
They reached the top of the stairs. “Which room?”
She pointed at the Cascade Suite, which she knew was empty. He tried the handle and then shoved her face into the wall next to the door. Blood streamed from her nose. “It’s locked!”
“Pocket.” She spit blood and cringed as his huge hands dug into her pocket, coming up with her ring of master keys. He pressed them into her hands.
She fumbled with the jingling ring, her brain screaming for her to place the keys between her fingers and drive them into his eyes. Instead she plunged one key into the lock and pushed the door open. Not yet.
He dragged her inside, pushed her toward the bed, and slammed the door, locking it behind him. He pointed the rifle at her. And smiled.
Did he torture Bree because of me?
Truman listened. The room behind the locked door had gone silent at his shout of “Eagle’s Nest police.”
A split second later loud thumps sounded, and the wooden floors vibrated through Truman’s boots. Did someone fall? The thumps were followed by deep gasps for breath. “Fucking bitch!” A gunshot roared from inside the suite.
Truman flinched at the shot but never dropped Samuel’s gaze. He nodded at his officer and gestured at the knob. Samuel immediately positioned himself and thrust a power-packed kick near the doorjamb above the knob. He stepped left into the room and Truman followed to the right. Both men froze, their weapons trained on Sandy.
The rifle was in her hands, aimed at the head of the man on the floor. His shaking hands shielded his face as he peered at her through his fingers. Lionel Kerns.
Dust filtered down from a large hole in the ceiling above Sandy, and the odor of a freshly fired rifle hung in the air. She didn’t look at the officers. All her intensity was focused through the weapon’s sights and on her target. “It’s not so fun when you’re on the wrong end of a gun, is it?” she said in a low voice. Her chest heaved, and her arms quivered. Chunks of red hair had loosened from her ponytail and dangled in her face. Blood ran from a cut on her cheek and a split lip.
But she was no victim; she was empowered. And dangerous.
“I’ll end this nightmare,” she muttered, never looking away from her target on the floor.
“Sandy,” Truman said gently. “Put down the rifle.” His own gun was still fixed on the woman.
“Not yet, Truman,” she breathed. “You don’t know what this asshole has done to me.”
Her finger is on the trigger.
Truman tightened his grip.
Don’t make me do this, Sandy.
“This is Lionel, your ex, right?” Truman asked.
“Yes.”
Lionel was a big guy, as Truman had seen on his license, but he was flabby around the middle and upper arms. Fresh blood streaked his full silver beard.
“He’s not worth it, Sandy,” said Samuel. “Don’t go to prison for the rest of your life because your anger got the best of you.”
“Shoot the bitch!” begged Lionel as blood flowed from his nose. “She’s gonna kill me.”
“Fuckhead,” Sandy said in a low voice. “You have it coming. You deserve it for breaking my arm. You deserve it for all the bloody lips and bruised cheeks. You deserve it for purposely screwing with a young woman’s mind and emotions for your own pleasure.” Her breathing hitched, and the rifle shook in her hands. “You broke me. You played an egotistical stupid game, and you broke me.”
The pain in her voice rattled Truman.
“Sandy . . . ,” Samuel said gently. “Look at me.”
She ignored him and moved the gun an inch closer to her objective. “I worked my ass off to build a damn good life after you ruined me. And you think you can waltz in and fuck it up again?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .” The words slurred out of Lionel’s mouth as he spit blood.
A sharp odor reached Truman. Her ex had pissed himself.
Sandy froze as she saw the spreading wet stain on his jeans. Then she smiled. A wide, pleased smile that made the hair rise on Truman’s arms. “Well, God damn.” She took a half step back, moving the barrel of the gun away from her ex. “Look at you now, big tough man.”
She looked over at Truman and Samuel. “I’m done.” Her grin was radiant, but her eyes were slightly crazed.
Truman exhaled, lowered his weapon, and held out a hand for her rifle. With a contented look, she handed it over and touched her lip, frowning when she saw the blood on her hand.
“Roll onto your stomach,” Samuel ordered Lionel. The man obeyed. Samuel easily cuffed him and then searched him for more weapons. Finding a pocketknife, he tossed it aside. He spoke into his radio mic, informing Ben the suspect had been apprehended, and then studied Sandy with concern. “You okay, Sandy?”
“I am now.” She blotted her bloody lips with the hem of her shirt and then pulled the fastener out of her ponytail and redid it, getting the hair out of her face.
“What happened?” asked Truman. Sandy seemed ready to get back to her kitchen.
“When you announced yourself at the door, he got distracted. I yanked the rifle out of his hands and rammed the butt into his nose. He went down like a dead elephant.”
“I meant, what happened when he first arrived here?” Truman said faintly. She’s got some balls to grab a loaded gun by the barrel.
“Oh.” She frowned at the figure on the floor. “I heard someone shouting in the lobby, but I was in the kitchen. When I came out, Lionel was waving the rifle and threatening my guests. He grabbed me by the hair and forced me upstairs. Once he got in here, he decided to see how much of this room he could destroy while mouthing off about this and that.” She kicked Lionel in the ankle. “I’ve always hated it when you grabbed my hair. And you’ll pay for that broken window and vase.”
“Jesus.” Samuel ran a hand over his buzz cut. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“Sorry about that bit at the end there, Truman,” Sandy said in a quieter voice, a contrite look on her face. “I’d never had power over Lionel before. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of that moment.”
“Next time an officer tells you to put a gun down, put it down.” A full-body shudder rocked through Truman as he relived how close he’d come to shooting her.
“She never fucking listened,” muttered Lionel. He twisted his head, trying to look at her over his shoulder while lying on his stomach. Samuel crouched down next to her ex’s head and bent close, whispering something.
Truman didn’t want to know what he was telling the big man.
Lionel’s face paled under its smears of blood as Samuel’s lips continued to move.
With a tip of his head, Truman directed Sandy closer to the suite door, away from the men. “Did he do the damage to your guests’ vehicles?”