Terror slammed into him and stole his breath.
He dropped to his knees and began to pray.
Annalisa sat cross-legged on the bed with her hands clasped around her iPhone. She smiled as she sent identical status updates to Facebook and Twitter:
Vacay a total wash. Drama drama drama. But I’m in love w/Sean & somehow happier than ever.:)
She heard the voices in the hallway as she finished sending the update. She recognized Emily’s voice right away. No mistaking that sultry tone. It made her think of that afternoon and she felt a reflexive tingle of arousal. She felt bad about that. But she couldn’t dwell on it. She had a great guy and a bright future ahead of her. The thing with Emily she could chalk up as just another of life’s experiences.
She frowned.
The other voices were very soft. She sensed an obvious effort to be quiet. Despite the low volume, she was certain these were the voices of strangers. Her mind flashed instantly to the news reports of the Walgreens massacre.
She sighed.
Ridiculous. You’re just being paranoid.
The door to the bathroom opened, making her gasp and jump. Sean came out wearing only khaki shorts and a grin. “Whoa. Nervous much?”
She laughed. “I-”
The bedroom door flew open and there they were.
Tears sprang to Annalisa’s eyes.
She knew her bright future no longer existed.
Chuck had just gone back to the bar when he heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. There had been no sign of Annalisa and Sean for hours. It wasn’t Zoe. She was down at the beach and always returned via the balcony staircase. The only other possibility was the one he dreaded most. He was still sort of baffled by how badly he’d misjudged Joe over the years. He knew the guy was wild and liked to have a good time. And that was fine. He was the same way. But there was a world of difference between that and being a total fucking sleazebag. Emily was even worse. She was the queen champion slut whore of all time, as well as a total user and manipulator. At this point it didn’t even matter whether she’d corrupted Joe or vice versa. They were both beyond redemption, in his eyes.
Joe appeared at the top of the stairs.
He was weaving again and his face looked red.
Shit. Here we go again.
Chuck didn’t care if the guy was still fucked-up. If he tried to start shit again, he was getting his ass handed to him.
Then he saw the red welt beneath one of his eyes and frowned.
What the hell?
Emily came up right behind him. She was also wobbling a little and there were tears in her eyes. Joe watched them and wanted to puke. So the drama had continued in private. More drama followed by fisticuffs, from the looks of it.
That theory gave way to reality an instant later.
Missy Wallace shoved Emily aside and strode into the living room with the malevolent confidence of an avenging angel. She had a gun in her hand. It was aimed at the floor, but it was rising. Chuck moved without thinking about it, instinct propelling him away from the bar toward the balcony door. She was here to kill him. He had to run, even if it meant a bullet in the back.
The gun boomed.
The big pane of glass in one of the French doors blew out and Chuck skidded to a halt. He stood shaking and breathing hard as he stared at the spray of glass. His mind calculated what the trajectory of the bullet must have been and he almost fell over. He’d just missed having his brains splattered against the door. She was still coming at him. He could feel her bearing down on him. Then he felt the gun against the back of his neck and screwed his eyes shut.
This is it, he thought.
This is how I die.
He had seconds left, probably. His heart raced. His head was filled with a whirlwind of clashing, confused thoughts and feelings. Regret, terror, loss, heartache, and a desperate hope for some kind of continued existence beyond this mortal plane. All the things anyone facing imminent death would feel. It was impossible to grab on to any one thing and focus on it.
Until he thought of Zoe again.
Shit.
She had been down at the beach for some time. More than an hour, easily. She could be on her way back right now. Could be moments away from walking in on this slaughter in the making. The odds were against her, but he figured she was the only one of them with any chance of surviving the night. She might yet live if Missy and her friends got down to business fast.
Chuck opened his eyes.
Several seconds had passed. The gun’s barrel was still pressed to the back of his neck.
“What are you waiting for? Get it over with.”
Missy laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A quick and merciful end.”
Chuck swallowed with tremendous difficulty-it felt like he was trying to force a golf ball down his gullet. “Yes.”
Another laugh, this one tinged with a merciless, taunting quality. “Sucks to be you, I guess.”
The gun came away from his neck as she moved back some.
“Turn around, frat boy.”
Chuck turned around.
They were all here now. All but Zoe. Emily and Joe. Annalisa and Sean. Missy and the other two wanted in connection with the Walgreens killings. The fugitives had all changed their looks. Missy had short and spiky blonde hair. The guy and the younger chick were both bald. They looked like skinheads. The grin on the younger girl’s face disturbed him as much as anything else. She looked like she was having the time of her life. The guy was lean and fit. He wore black jeans and a black button-up shirt with a flame pattern on the front. Chuck might have laughed at the duds under other circumstances. He looked like he shopped exclusively at Hot Topic. He also looked exactly like the sort of dude who’d get mixed up with the likes of Missy Wallace. But there was something off about him. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he had a feeling the guy wasn’t as into this as Missy and the other chick. He looked nervous. Scared. Like he’d rather be anywhere but here. The insight gave him his first glimmer of hope. It was a small one, but it was better than nothing. He had to work on tweaking this guy’s conscience, somehow nudge him into intervening before it was too late.
“Rob!”
The bald guy flinched when Missy barked his name. “Yeah?”
“Got a job for you.”
Rob grimaced. “What do you want?”
Yeah. Definitely not into this at all. Yet here he is. Weak-willed little bastard.
“I need you to rearrange some furniture.” Missy never looked away from Chuck as she issued her commands. Never stopped smiling. And never stopped aiming the gun right at his face. “Shove that goddamn sofa out of the way, up against the entertainment center. Then drag the chairs from that table and line ’em up in a row.”
Rob set about his work with obvious reluctance. The listless way he moved made him look like a tired old man. He couldn’t be more than a few years older than Chuck, but the haunted, faraway look in his eyes made him look like a combat veteran at the end of a tour of duty. He nonetheless got the job done within a few minutes. The sofa was up against the entertainment center and four metal-framed chairs were lined up in a row, facing the kitchen area.
Missy moved away from Chuck and pointed the gun at Joe. “You sit there.”
She nodded at one of the chairs.
Joe staggered over to it and plopped down, tears leaking from his eyes. “Please. I don’t wanna die. Please…”
“Shut up or I’ll shoot you in the balls.”
Joe stopped pleading, but his tears continued in a steady stream.
Missy ordered Sean and Annalisa into the two middle chairs and installed Chuck in the chair on the far-right end, the one closest to the balcony doors. Chuck glanced at the shattered door and tried to send a telepathic signal to Zoe to stay put. It was ridiculous, but what else could he do? He made himself stop looking at the door. He didn’t want Missy developing any suspicions.
Missy knelt and set her big tote bag on the floor. She pulled out some clothes and tossed them aside. Then she reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic bag with a Walgreens logo. She opened the Walgreens bag and dumped its contents on the floor.