Her eyes widened. “You told him?”
“Oh yeah. But he didn’t listen. You were so distraught. How could I make up such lies? And you looked like Mom. He couldn’t believe you’d be so… bad.”
“You told him?” she repeated, stunned.
“Are you deaf on top of crazy? Yes. I told him, but he called me a liar. He couldn’t look at me because I did what he should have been there to do. I tried to save her while you cowered in the closet.” He aimed at her head. “If you’d just left well enough alone, nothing needed to change. But you had to leave that damn ball. Buh-bye, Mary Fran.”
“David’s still not answering,” Olivia said, her cell phone clenched in her hand as she watched the lake cabins flash by. Not much farther…
“They’re playing cowboy,” Noah muttered.
“She’s his mother. When Eve was in danger, you were quite the cowboy, too.”
“That was different. I had a gun. David and Tom don’t.”
A fact of which she was very aware. “David can handle himself,” she said and prayed it was true. She studied the screen of her camera, trying to match the aerial image of the lake she’d taken from the bucket with the actual layout on the ground. They were close. There was a cabin another few minutes away that could be the one.
She saw the cabin up ahead, her eyes widening as a shirtless figure crept around the side of the cabin to the front. “That’s Tom.” He was getting in a sedan idling in the driveway. “What the hell is he doing?” she demanded and Noah’s jaw clenched.
“Don’t know.” Then a shot split the air and Noah punched the gas, their car going momentarily airborne.
With Tom behind the wheel, the old sedan screeched in reverse, then, driver’s door wide open, he gunned the engine, aiming for the house. The car lurched forward and Tom leapt free, rolling on the lawn, coming to his feet as lithely as a dancer. He took off running around the back as Noah brought their car to a blistering stop.
Olivia jumped out and followed Tom to the back, her gun drawn.
David stared in horror as Kirby pulled the trigger and Mary went down. And then, a second later, the house shook on its foundation. Move. Heart pounding, penknife clutched in his fist and Tom’s shirt over his head, David crashed through the glass door shoulder-first. Landing in a shower of glass, he threw Tom’s shirt to the side as his mother stared up at him, stunned.
“Are you okay?” he whispered fiercely, his heart settling a fraction when she nodded. She closed her eyes, tears seeping from her eyelids as he sliced through her bonds, picked her up and shoved her through the shattered back door.
To where Tom waited to carry her away. Good boy. Tom had followed his instruction to the last detail. Get out. David sprung toward the hole in the glass, when a body hurled over the back of the sofa and a hand grabbed his collar, yanking him back, the two of them falling in the broken glass.
“Sonofabitch.” The epithet was thundered in a rage, followed by the cold bite of steel against the back of his head. “Get up, Hunter. Hands where I can see them. You want me, now you’ve got me. Toss your gun.”
David rose, conscious of each passing second. His mother and Tom had slipped away, unseen. Don’t stop running until you’re safe. “I don’t have a gun.”
Kirby’s arm came around his neck, his forearm threatening to crush his throat, bending him backward as he awkwardly patted David down. “You really don’t. What the hell kind of hero are you anyway, charging me without a gun?”
David reached for Kirby’s arm, but Kirby jabbed the gun barrel against his head, hard. “I said keep your hands where I can see them.”
David couldn’t breathe. “The cops are coming,” he rasped and Kirby laughed.
“Nice try. They’re not coming because they’re all waiting for me downtown. They think I’m stupid. They think I can’t smell a setup.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” David grated out. He leaned back an inch, freeing his windpipe enough to draw a decent breath. Kirby was taller than he’d seemed standing behind the counter. Stronger too. I underestimated him. Never looked at him. He made me uncomfortable, so I never really looked at him.
“Their little ruse, their text from Austin. ‘Help. I’m scared. Meet me,’” Kirby mocked.
The trick Olivia had up her sleeve. It obviously had not worked as planned. “How do you know it’s a ruse? Last I heard, they hadn’t caught the kid. He’s wily.”
“Because they got my place surrounded. Fucking cops everywhere.”
“There are always cops in your place. You sell coffee and doughnuts.”
“Funny guy. You won’t be laughing in a min-Fuck.” Kirby viciously kicked at the overturned chair. “What the fucking hell is this?”
David didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Kirby hadn’t known his mother was there. For some reason that God only knew, Mary had lied, told Kirby she’d killed his mother already. By now Tom should have his mother halfway to the car. He’d made the boy promise to keep moving. Even if I don’t follow. He needed to buy his family more time.
“Goddammit,” Kirby hissed. “She lied, the bitch. She didn’t kill the old lady. Where is she?” He shoved the gun harder into David’s skull. “Where the hell is she?”
David tried to stay calm. Tried to buy another few minutes to give Tom time to get his mother to safety. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Goddammit, there’s rope on the floor. Walk, Hunter.” He shoved David forward, over the threshold of the shattered glass door, onto the patio. “Old lady Hunter!” he bellowed. “Come back or your son dies. I will shoot him. I have nothing to lose. You do.”
No, Ma. Don’t do it. David prayed Tom had her out of earshot. Fat chance, not with his mother’s hearing. She’d come. Tom would follow and then all three of them would die. Dammit, Olivia, where the hell are you? He held his breath, listening for any sign that his mother was coming back, but there was nothing. Thank you.
“Fine,” Kirby muttered. “They can’t have gotten far. You’re done, Hunter.”
He’s going to shoot me. Then he’d go after them, the people he loved. Not while I still breathe. I’ll take him with me. David’s stomach roiled. He wasn’t nearly as zen with the prospect as he’d always expected he’d be. I walk into fire, ready to die every day. But this was different. There was no rush. No adrenaline. Just fear and dread, heavy in his gut. It wouldn’t, however, change the outcome.
Now. Take him down now. He shifted to the balls of his feet, then shoved backward as hard as he could, twisting to the side, grabbing Kirby’s wrist as they fell. David’s head hit the patio hard, and the world spun, but he had Kirby’s wrist in a lock and the gun pointed away from them.
With a howl of rage, Kirby grabbed his collar with his free hand and slammed David’s head onto the concrete again. Pain crashed through his skull, but he held Kirby’s wrist. They rolled, fighting for the gun. David pinned him to the concrete, but Kirby’s finger was curled around the trigger and it was all David could do to keep the barrel pointed away.
Sucking in a breath, David’s head cleared and so did his view of Kirby’s face. Fury exploded and he ploughed his fist into Kirby’s face with all the force he could summon, but Kirby countered, twisting his collar until his knuckles dug into David’s throat.
Can’t breathe. He twisted, but Kirby tightened his hold. Can’t breathe. White lights twinkled before his eyes as, one-handed, he yanked at the knuckles cutting off his air, but Kirby held. Both hands. He needed both hands. He’ll shoot. I’ll die. No. Not today. Relax the throat. It worked, allowing him a shallow breath through his nose.
And he smelled her. Honeysuckle. She’s here. In his mind he could see her, ready, aiming, unable to get a clear shot as they fought. Let go of the gun. Move. Abruptly he released Kirby’s wrist, throwing himself to the side. Kirby rolled with him, his fist still twisted in his collar and from the corner of his eye he could see the gun arc around… pointing at me. He stared at the barrel, every muscle clenched.