Kellan attacked, punching the man with a quiet grunt. He tried to get to the gun, but Mike threw him back with a fist to his face. Pure pain flared, making his head spin. He heard Sir yipping, but as he opened his eyes, all he could see was that big fist coming toward his face again.
“Mother fucker,” Mike cursed before making contact again. “I’m going to kill you.”
Then he heard the shocking sound of a gun discharging. It cracked through the small space. The punch that might have knocked him out never came.
Mike’s whole face went blank as he listed to one side and fell.
“Are you okay?” Eric asked quietly, reaching out to help Kell up.
“You idiot!” Gates yelled down. “Someone’s going to call the cops if you don’t keep the goddamn volume down. I told you to shut the dog up, not shoot him.”
Fuck. If “Mike” didn’t answer, Belle would be in trouble. He lowered his voice and tried to sound like an idiot douchebag. “Sorry. Dog’s no trouble now.”
Eric had picked Sir up, who was enthusiastically licking his face, but at least he was quiet.
There was a long sigh. “Get your ass up here. I have one more place I want to look before we finish up. Tell Helena to get everything ready.”
The door shut upstairs.
He looked at Eric. “Give me the gun. You’ve done your part. I’m going to go get our girl. You make sure no one else comes after me.”
Eric nodded, and Kellan started up the stairs.
To save his woman. To make sure his family was safe again.
Chapter Twenty
Tears filled Belle’s eyes. They’d talked about killing her little dog. Her sweet little Sir was just a puppy. She’d heard the gunshot…then she hadn’t heard Sir bark again. She tried not to sob.
Gates had yelled to Mike about finishing up, so he’d shot her dog. He would kill Tate next, regardless of whether or not she found the list. They were determined to take everything from her, even her life. Belle felt helpless, and it was a small consolation to know that Tate wouldn’t suffer. Knowing that nothing but death awaited for her and Tate infuriated her. Damn it, she refused to go down without a fight.
Unfortunately, Gates had never taken the gun off her. Even when he’d been yelling at his cohorts, he’d watched her carefully. “Move the mattress. I want to see what’s under the bed.”
“You’re going to kill me anyway.” Maybe it was time to take a stand.
“No, I’m not. If you give me the list, I’ll walk away,” he said in what Belle bet he considered a soothing tone. She noted that he didn’t point that gun elsewhere, though a tremor shook his arm. He wasn’t a young man. He likely wasn’t used to holding heavy objects for long periods of time.
“I’m not stupid. I know you won’t leave me alive.” She listened for the sounds of movement downstairs. It was faint, but she could almost hear them moving, the wood floors creaking as Gates’s two accomplices searched the downstairs. Well, Helena was searching, but Mike seemed to be preparing for her inevitable murder. How did they plan to finish her off? Another hanging murder designed to look like a suicide?
Belle couldn’t wait to find out. She had to make a move. She wasn’t sure she could live knowing Tate was dead. How much time had passed? Where were Eric and Kellan?
Gates shrugged a little, giving up his previous act. “Fine. Of course, I’m going to kill you. If you give me the list, I’ll make it quick. If you give me trouble, I’ll draw it out. You won’t like that. I can make you feel pain like you’ve never felt before. I’ll give you over to Mike. He seemed to really like you. Although you might enjoy that since you like sleeping with a lot of men.”
She ignored his insults. They didn’t matter. She had to think. Her brain raced. She’d screwed up his plan by having Tate in the house. He’d wanted to catch her alone. He’d intended to only have to deal with one body.
And with the history of this house, it would be easy. The story itself would be so spectacular—history repeating itself and all—that the truth might be easily concealed and forever buried.
“You’re planning to hang me.” She’d wondered why Mike had laid out a white sheet on the floor in front of the banister.
Now that she thought about it, she could see the whole scenario play out in her head. They would make a noose out of the sheet. Pristine white. Like a cloud. They would pervert it and slip it over around her neck before tossing her over the banister and completing the act.
Belle felt an odd chill go through her, though there was nothing truly sinister about the feeling. Strength. She felt a weird bolt of it run through her, giving her energy, straightening her spine.
Belle suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. The house might be haunted, but not all ghosts were evil. Some simply wanted to right the wrongs done to them—like the Peterman girls who’d been hanged by their own father. They could right those terrible wrongs by saving someone else, by not allowing what happened to them to happen again.
A nasty smile lit Gates’s face. “Everyone knows this place is haunted, Miss Wright. Your story will make headlines for a day or two, then it will fade into New Orleans lore. Then you’ll be just another young girl who committed suicide in this house. Just another ghost.”
But the ghosts weren’t on his side. He couldn’t know that, couldn’t know they had been coming to her each night in her dreams, trying to tell her that they had fought and she should, too. She got that now. They hadn’t come to scare her. The thing in the library, yes. That entity wanted to hurt her, but not the girls from her dreams. They’d come to warn her, to make sure she didn’t suffer their fate.
A deep peace settled over her as though she was finally in synch with the house she’d come to call home.
She didn’t have to die. Neither did Tate. She could fight and she could win.
She looked briefly around the room. It was in complete disarray. He’d forced her to ransack every inch of the place looking for his “list” and now she had to walk gingerly around the piles of her grandmother’s clothes and keepsakes that had absolutely nothing to do with the list.
She decided to obey him for now, to buy a little more time while she sought a weapon. There had to be something heavy and blunt among all this stuff.
What if Eric walked in first? Would he walk in and immediately be killed because he had no idea what was going on?
She had to prevent that, too.
Belle pushed at the mattress, pretending it was far heavier than it looked. She made a big show of straining to move the thing while she pointed out certain truths to the lawyer. “It’s not going to work. Why would I hang myself?”
She’d just gotten engaged. She had everything to live for. And she had friends. What Gates didn’t realize was that if anything happened to her, Kinley would never stop trying to find the truth and she would sic her very-good-at-their-jobs husbands on the case. Kinley wouldn’t believe that she would kill herself. Not for a second.
Gates huffed, his stare utterly derisive. “You live with three men. Your lifestyle alone will make people shake their heads. Obviously, they didn’t want to stay with a whore, so you did yourself in. I was intent on simply killing you, but if I have to, I’ll take out your boyfriend. But I’d rather let him live because he’ll make a perfect fall guy. I have some interns ready to testify about all the fights the men have over you. Mike is going to tell the cops that he overheard you crying because you couldn’t choose between them. Your boyfriend down there could have murdered you in a fit of rage. Do you want him to live or not?”
She didn’t believe a word he said. He would kill them both and come up with a story he hoped would hold water. With corrupt officials in his corner, he had reason to be smug, but it wouldn’t work because he didn’t understand the nature of the relationship she shared with her men. He didn’t understand that no one who knew her or Tate would believe a word Gates said.