Текст книги "Ex-Con: Bad Boy Romance"

Автор книги: Shiloh Walker

Соавторы: M. S. Parker
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 20

I pulled up in the SUV they’d told me to take. I didn’t know who it belonged to, nor did I care. It was a Chevy and that was about all I knew, only because I hated Chevys. Somebody had been smoking inside it, and the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to the interior made my already aching head feel like it was going to come apart.

Don’t be a hero.

I wasn’t going to be a hero. I was going to do what I did best: cause somebody a lot of pain. I’d done it all too well from an all too young age.

Younger than anyone in the FBI or on the security team realized. Younger than anyone alive knew.

Derrell Mitchell, Jr. hadn’t been the first man I’d killed.

The first man I’d killed had been my father.

I walked in one day after school and found him standing over my mother, who’d been huddled into a ball on the floor, trying to protect her stomach while he kicked her. She was pregnant at the time.

To this day, I still couldn’t remember exactly what happened. I could remember turning and grabbing for something. Anything. The first thing that had come to my hand had been my mama’s iron skillet.

I could still feel it in my hands, gripping it the way I’d gripped a bat.

I hadn’t made a sound, just walked up behind him. He hadn’t heard me until it’d been too late. I’d been already swinging.

And I hadn’t stopped swinging until my mama had dragged herself upright and caught my arm.

Enough, Bobby. Enough. He can’t hurt me no more.

She’d lied, though.

Three days later, after we’d dumped his body in the quarry, after we’d filed a report saying he’d up and left, after we’d answered so many questions, no, sir…we don’t know where he is; yes, sir…he did hit Mama again…Mama had started to bleed. She lost the baby she’d been carrying. She told me on her deathbed that it had been a girl. Even after he was gone, he hurt her again.

The police, I thought, knew, at least part of it. They’d looked at her face, seen the bruises. They’d looked at me, seen something in my eyes. And they’d seen the hospital reports, the filed and dropped assault charges over the years. They hadn’t looked too hard for him. A few months later, we’d left.

I hadn’t been a hero when I’d killed him for hitting my mama. I’d just been a boy who’d hated that old son of a bitch.

It was hate and fear that drove me closer to my house now, just like it had been hate and fear and anger that drove me to pick up that iron skillet and beat my father to death.

This time, though, I wouldn’t lie about whatever happened. I wouldn’t run away. I would do whatever was necessary to make Haley and Carly safe, even if it meant being sent back to prison for the rest of my life.

I hadn’t even made it halfway up the stone path when the door opened. The pit of my stomach dropped out at the sight of the blonde child standing there.

For one moment, so beautiful it almost hurt, all I could see was her. I could see me and Leah there, see that all of the shit we’d gone through had been worth it just to bring this beautiful, perfect child into the world.

And then her lower lip trembled as Derrell Mitchell, Sr. reached out to stroke a hand down her hair. He held a gun in his hand. That gun touched my daughter.

I was going to kill him. Him and Ridley. Consequences be damned.

“Nice to see you decided to join us, Bobby.” He smiled, his lips peeling back to display teeth stained by too much tobacco. His face had whittled down to angles and hollows. He looked like he’d been living on cigarettes and hate and nothing else. When I didn’t say anything, he bent down and spoke to Haley. “You know who that guy is, sweetheart?”

Haley blinked at me and then scowled. “You said I’d see my dad soon.”

He laughed. It was a strong, booming laugh. It sounded wrong coming from his all but desiccated husk. He pointed a finger in my direction. “Girl, that is your dad.”

Her mouth fell open. She blinked, hard and fast, three times. Then she sucked in a breath and jerked up her chin, eyes sparkling. “Okay. So?”

A surge of pride went through me. Not pride for anything she’d gotten from me. No, that was pure nurture. Her real parents had taught her that, and I was proud of her for it.

Mitchell’s eyes narrowed. Then he grabbed her shoulder and jerked her inside by the arm, squeezing tight enough that it had to hurt, but she didn’t make a sound. It took everything I had not to attack him right there.

“Get in here.”

I started toward him.

Before I could clear the door, he jabbed the gun he held at me. It was a Sig P229 and he held it in a rock steady grip.

I stopped in my tracks. I didn’t want to end this before it started.

“Take off your clothes.” The smile on his face stopped at his mouth. His eyes were dead.

“What?” My heart thudded against my chest. I wasn’t scared of him killing me. I was scare that, without the protection, I wouldn’t be able to protect Haley.

“Yeah.” He smiled, displaying his tobacco-enhanced smile once more. “If you’re wired, we’re taking care of it here and now.”

I shot a look past him into the house. “If you think I’m stripping down with that kid watching, then your head isn’t screwed on right.”

His eyes narrowed. Then he waved the gun in a vague gesture. “Shirt. Jeans. Shoes. Jacket. Leave them outside. You can keep your...” He hesitated, looking back into the house. “Your shorts can stay on.”

“Considerate of you,” I said, baring my teeth. My mind was racing, trying to decide if I should attempt to hide the wire or let him see it.

Remembering that I still had a back-up, I decided to take the chance. Once I’d stripped off the sweater and t-shirt, I grabbed the wire and ripped it off, holding it out for him to see.

His eyes flared hot, and he lunged forward, grabbing it and throwing it down, driving his heel down on the mic until it shattered. “Did you think you could fuck with me like that?”

I held out my hands. “Hey, I’m doing what I’m told. The cops wired me up and told me to get my ass up here. I did what they said so I could get here.” I curled my lip and derisively added, “Not like I can say no, now can I?”

“That’s right.” He glared at me. “You’re just a waste of space, an ex-con. You never should have gotten out of jail to begin with.”

A cold wind whipped across the mountain side and I couldn’t keep from shivering. “Did you bring me up to make me freeze my ass off? If not...” I gestured at the clothes.

He shrugged.

I grabbed them, but as I came inside, he pointed to the fireplace. “Burn them. We’ll see if we can’t find something else for you to wear in front of the kid.”

I was still shivering as I hunkered down by the fire, but I took my time as I fed one thing after another in. That had been what Ryan had said they needed. Time.

Haley sat in a chair nearby, looking small and scared. Her eyes met mine and I wanted to tell her it would be okay. But I didn’t. I couldn’t show any more interest in her than I had to. Not in front of Mitchell. He had to think that she wasn’t as important to me as he’d thought.

“You never knew about your other daddy, did you?” Mitchell asked, sitting down on the table close to her, positioned so he could see us both.

Haley ignored him, so he slammed a fist down on the table. She jumped, her eyes going wide.

“Leave the kid alone,” I said, straightening up from my crouch.

“You don’t get to give the orders here.” Mitchell stayed where he was, smiling up at me.

“You wanted me here. I’m here. Now let her go.” Once Haley was safe, I’d find Carly.

“Let her go? But the fun’s just getting started!” He stood, moving with an uneasy, jerky sort of energy. He spread his arms wide as he spun around the room. “Ridley, bring in our other guest.”

As he turned away, I looked at Haley. She was staring at me. Her lips moved. “Is it...?”

The door on the far side of the room opened, cutting her off, and I felt a small measure of relief. I hated that she had to know at all, hated even more that it had happened this way. Carly came stumbling out, crashing into the doorframe before going to her knees.

“Get her fat ass over here,” Mitchell said.

I wanted to curl my hands around his neck and squeeze. Then Ridley emerged from the darkened room, and my knuckles went white as I made fists. His face was a mask.

“Did you hear me?” Mitchell took a step toward me.

If I hadn’t known Ridley so well, I would have missed the flinch. His voice was caustic, rude as ever when he said, “Give me a break, Mitchell. She’s still fighting off the drugs I had to give her to make her be quiet.”

Drugs.

I’d never enjoyed killing, never did it for pleasure or fun, but I was seriously considering making the two of them suffer before I ended them.

“Well, if you hadn’t let your dick do your thinking for you and brought her along, then it wouldn’t be an issue.” Mitchell gave Carly a look of acute disgust before he turned back to me.

In the next moment, Ridley took Carly’s arm. She tried to jerk away, but she was off-balance. Shit, yes. He had drugged her. I could see it in the overly-clumsy way she moved and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see it in her fogged gaze too.

“I wasn’t about to leave her behind,” he said. There was something almost pleading in his eyes when he looked at her, even though his voice stayed cold. “I set all this up to get rid of him. Why would I get him out of the way just to walk away from her?”

“Why would you want her after he touched her?” Mitchell pointed to the couch. “Put her by the kid. I want to see all three of them. In...” He went silent, head cocked.

I heard it in the next moment too, and my gut froze. Cars.

He whirled around, pointing the gun at Haley’s head for a moment before shifting it to Carly. “I told you no cops!”

“I didn’t bring any!” I shouted.

I meant it too. I hadn’t brought any – to the fucking door.

The gun pivoted between the two of them and I knew I couldn’t get to him fast enough to stop him. Couldn’t cover both of them. Ridley shifted, ever so slightly. His eyes moved to Haley and then back to me.

I struggled to breathe. It might kill me, but I knew Carly would understand me choosing Haley over her. I could get to her in time. She was all of two feet away. I could–

“Dad.”

The voice was as loud as a bullhorn and Mitchell froze. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Dad, it’s me. It’s...it’s Dale, Dad. I need to talk to you. Don’t do anything stupid now. I’m coming up.”

***

It had been nearly a year since I’d seen Dale and time hadn’t been kind to him.

When he came through the door, he looked at me, at Ridley, then at Carly and the young girl who was still sitting on the chair, clutching at the cushion with fingers that had long since gone white.

When Mitchell looked away from us to his son, I dared to take one small step closer to Haley. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ridley doing the same, moving the smallest itch closer to Carly.

But she was inching closer to me. Shit. I turned my head and glared at her.

Stay, I mouthed. It twisted my heart to do it, but I knew I couldn’t protect them both. I could only hope that what I’d seen in Ridley’s eyes was real, that he would protect Carly.

She narrowed her eyes.

Please.

Her shoulders slumped, but she stopped moving.

“What are you doing here, boy?” Mitchell asked.

Dale spread out his hands. “You’re here and you’re acting crazy. Where else would I be?”

“Crazy!” Mitchell spat on the ground. “I’m doing what should have already been done. I’m making that piece of shit pay. He should pay for what he did and you know it! If you hadn’t been so chickenshit, you would’ve done it yourself!”

“He should pay.” Dale didn’t even look at me as he leaned closer to his dad. “Matter of fact, I heard talk that he’s going back in, Dad. They’re revoking his parole.”

I knew Dale was lying but I had no problem playing along with it.

Mitchell wheeled his head around and stared at me for a second before looking back at his son. He shook his head. “You’re just saying that. They went and got soft on criminals. All this reform bullshit. They let him make a deal and now he’s out here fucking movie stars and getting rich–”

“Dad.” Dale put a hand on his chest. “On my honor. He’s going back in.”

“That’s a damn lie!” I shouted, hoping Mitchell would take my argument as proof.

Dale shot me a dark look. His eyes were full of hate, but I could see a glimmer of something else there. Fear. Fear of losing his father because of this.

“You wish it was, you...” He glanced at the kid and then grimaced. “I can’t say what you are with a kid around. And Dad, come on, she’s a kid. Let me take her out of here. Or let the woman leave with her. You don’t need them.”

Mitchell went to rub at his mouth. “I grabbed the girl because she’s his. You know he had a kid?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I knew.”

“You knew?!” Mitchell grabbed his son’s arm. “All that talk you had about making him suffer, and you knew he had a kid? I had to find out through that son of a bitch!” He jerked a finger back at Ridley.

“She’s just a kid, Dad,” Dale said quietly. He looked at her then. “It doesn’t matter what he did, not when it comes to her. She’s a little girl.”

“She’s his kid!”

Dale stepped between them, cutting off his father’s view of Haley. “She’s not. The woman who gave birth to that kid dumped him, took off, wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Hell, the little girl won’t even look at him. I bet he doesn’t even know her name. Come on, Dad. Don’t do this. Let’s get the girls out of here. That ditz over there, the little kid. Then we can figure out how to handle Cantrell.”

I never thought I’d be grateful to Dale Mitchell, but I was. I knew he wanted to save his father, not me, but I didn’t care. As long as Haley and Carly were safe, I’d take whatever came next.

“Fine.” Mitchell scowled. “But after that, we’re going to make him pay.”

Dale nodded and I wondered if he was finally going to cross that line from harassment into violence. I didn’t let myself think about it though.

I picked up Haley as Carly got to her feet. If it was the only chance I’d ever have to hold my daughter, I’d make sure I remembered it. I breathed in the scent of her hair – she smelled like bubble gum – and I fought the urge to cuddle her close, keeping the contact as impersonal as I could.

“Take her,” I said, keeping my voice brusque as I pushed her into Carly’s arms.

“I’m not leaving you.” Carly’s voice shook and I could see she was still unsteady, fighting off the effect of the drugs.

“You are.” I practically growled it. Then lower, I whispered, “Please. Get her safe.”

I chanced a glance up the hill, with my eyes only.

She swallowed, then managed a nod, and even a half-smile for me as she lowered Haley to the ground. “You have to walk, honey. I can’t carry you unless we both want to fall down.”

I didn’t think I’d ever loved her more than I did at that moment. And I didn’t dare tell her, either. Better Mitchell think Carly was just some crush or fling. He couldn’t know how much she meant to me.

“Shut the door.”

The cold, hard muzzle of the gun nudged hard against my ribs and I took my time closing the door, keeping my body between him and them, hoping to keep him from seeing even a single strand of blonde hair.

A split second before the door was aligned with the door jam, a hand slammed my face against the solid oak and I tasted blood. It took all my self-control not to spin around and try to beat the shit out of Mitchell.

“You got any idea how many times I’ve thought about getting my hands on you, boy?” Mitchell snarled in my ear. “How many times I’ve thought about beating you bloody? Tearing you apart, piece by piece, by piece?”

“Dad.”

“Shut up!” Mitchell’s voice was a bellow in my ear, one I had no problem hearing despite the roar of blood in my ears and the pounding that had taken up residence.

I grunted, or tried to, as he slammed the gun against the back of my neck. Pain shot up my skull and down my spine. I forced myself to think, to use my head instead of my fists.

“Those stupid bitches are gone now, right? That’s all you were...”

The gun wedged against the back of my neck eased and I sucked in air. The heavy weight of Mitchell’s body pinning me to the door fell away and I half-turned, half-staggered away, falling against the corner as I took in the scene in front of me. Blood splattered hot down my chest. My nose was probably broken again, but that was the least of my concerns.

Detective Dale Mitchell was holding a baby Glock on his dad.

Fuck me.

I spit some blood onto the floor, but didn’t say anything as I watched the scene play out in front of me.

“You need to put that thing down, son,” Mitchell said softly. “You know you ain’t going to use that on me.”

“Two civilians in here, Dad.” Dale shook his head. “And you had a kid in here, Dad. You kidnapped a little girl, for fuck’s sake. You think I can just let that slide?”

“Kid’s gone. It’s just us now. Civilians, right?” He snorted and threw a glance at Ridley. “You think that man there is some injured party here? He’s the one who helped me find that...”

Ridley looked away.

“He isn’t going to side with you here, Dad. He’s out.”

“I say when he’s out!” Mitchell spun, his eyes landing on me.

There I was, wearing nothing more than the damn boxer briefs I’d pulled on that morning, and the damn microphone they’d shoved in my ear, and I had a gun pointed at me. There wasn’t anybody in the world who had more reason to hate me than these three men, and two of them had guns. I wasn’t sure things could’ve gotten any worse.

But I shouldn’t have thought that.

Because things could always get worse.

Chapter 21

“He thinks I should just let you go,” Mitchell said. The gun in his hand had finally started to shake.

As I watched, he reached up and dashed his free hand across his eyes.

The old man was crying.

Stupid son of a bitch that I was, I almost felt sorry for him.

“Dad...”

“Don’t move!” Mitchell shouted, his voice cracking. The gun came back to me and he shouted, “Get over there. With them. You sorry son of a bitch. Get over there, where I can see all of you.”

I did what he said, keeping a wide distance. As I moved, I was absently aware of the fact that I was cold. The fire had died down, half-smothered by the Kevlar vest I’d had to throw in with the rest of my clothes. Not that it would matter much in a little while.

Mitchell wanted me dead, and I didn’t think Ridley was going to argue with that. For reasons I hadn’t quite yet worked out in my head, though, Detective Dale Mitchell seemed to have taken an opposing view.

“Where are his clothes, Dad?”

“Burned them.” Mitchell smiled, despite the tears that continued to track down his face. “The dumb-ass cops sent him in here with a wire, thought I wouldn’t check. My son’s a cop.” His lip curled as he said it and the way he spat the words my son made it clear just what he thought of that connection just then.

If Dale was bothered by it, he didn’t let it show. He just nodded and looked around. “This place is probably heated by the fireplace and a generator. It’s cold in here. You plan on letting him get hypothermia before you kill him or what? Let him get some clothes on.”

“I don’t care if he turns to ice in front of me,” Mitchell sneered.

“I do.” Dale glanced over at Ridley. “Get him a shirt, some pants.”

“Don’t,” Mitchell warned.

“Do it,” Dale snapped.

When his father rounded on him, Dale strode forward, his eyes blazing. “You going to shoot me because I don’t want a man freezing his ass off in front of me? Then do it. Go on! Do it!”

He was close enough now to grab the muzzle of his father’s gun.

For a second, I waited, motionless. I was afraid to breathe, afraid to move, afraid to even blink.

Then Mitchell swore and lowered the gun, backing away. “How did I raise such a fucking pussy?” He turned his head and spat on the floor, the disgust coming from him in waves.

If he thought Dale putting himself in front of a loaded gun made his son a pussy, we had very different definitions of what that term meant.

A muscle pulsed in Dale’s cheek and he shot me a look. I couldn’t quite decipher it. If he hated me, fine. If he let his father shoot me right there, I would go to my grave thankful.

He’d gotten Haley out. He’d gotten Carly out. The two things in my world that really mattered and he’d taken care of them. I’d be indebted to him for the rest of my life, however long that ended up being.

A moment later, a bundle of clothes were shoved into my arms and I looked up just in time to see Ridley shuffle around me. He slid me a look then glanced down at the clothes. Then away. At the clothes, then away.

The clothes...

I tightened my hold on them. They were a damn sight heavier than they needed to be for a sweatshirt and jeans.

What in the hell?

Casually, I managed to turn slightly. It took more fumbling than I liked, and then my entire world froze down to nothing as I awkwardly shove the palm-sized pistol inside the front of my jockeys one-handed as I pretended to fumble with the sweatshirt. They were apparently Ridley’s clothes and too big. Ridley wasn’t much taller than I was, but he was massive, broad as a damn barn. The sweatshirt went past my hips, and the sweats weren’t much better. I felt like a kid trying to fit into his big brother’s clothes...with a gun lodged next to my unprotected cock.

“Hurry your miserable ass up, Cantrell,” Mitchell said.

“I am, I am,” I said as my teeth started to chatter. He’d kept Haley in this place for who knew how long. No heat on or anything, just that miserable little fire that hadn’t done shit to dispel the chill in the air.

I wanted to strip Mitchell naked and leave him up in the mountains to freeze to death.

“Why did you let Carly leave?” Ridley asked.

His voice was wrong somehow. Flat. Almost...well, if I had to make a stab at it, I’d say he sounded the exact way most people would assume he sounded. He was big and solid, and until you had to deal with him, Ridley struck most people as some all-brawn-and-no-brains type. He didn’t look like he had a near genius IQ. He was a mean bastard, and he sure as hell looked like he could be, but he was smart. Now, though, he sounded like the grown-up version of some high school bully who had fought and blustered his way through life.

“She wasn’t necessary,” Mitchell said.

“The only reason I even helped you–”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up.”

I chanced a glance in the mirror, and saw that Ridley had moved to stand between Mitchell and me. Taking the brief chance he’d given me, I palmed the gun and shoved it into the slash-styled pocket of the pants. I took a minute to tie the waistband as tight as I could and pull the sweatshirt back into place. The oversized shirt was baggy enough to hide the lump and I wondered if Ridley had picked his biggest clothes for that reason. Of course, hiding it there would hinder my chance to go for it, but there was no way to secure it anywhere else.

“You need to move your dumb ass out of my face,” Mitchell said when Ridley tried to push again about Carly. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re pissed your little whore’s gone.”

Ridley tensed and I imagined plunging my hand into the old man’s face, pummeling until blood flowed.

Dale’s gaze moved to mine, and I saw his eyes drift down, rest on my right hip.

Shit.

Then he looked back at his father, slid a casual glance toward the back door. He was trying to tell me something, and I had a feeling he knew about the gun.

How, I didn’t know. I didn’t think he’d had a chance to chat with Ridley, and I was almost positive there was no way he’d seen me palm it. I might have been out of practice, but I was still pretty damn good.

As Ridley and Mitchell continued to snarl and snap at each other, Dale gave a lazy nod to the back door. I looked at my bare feet and thought about hauling ass down the mountain. It wasn’t far and I’d made it through worse.

But then I looked at Ridley. What happened if he messed up and–

“I swear I should have just killed that cunt and the kid!” Mitchell said, shoving past Ridley and moving closer to the spot where his son and I waited.

So much for that silent conversation we’d been sharing.

“You.” Mitchell’s lip curled at me, while behind him, Ridley’s face went red and his eyes narrowed down to dangerous slits.

With his temper, I’d known better than to turn my back on him, but I wasn’t the one standing that way right now.

“You, your little cunt, that bitch kid–”

Ridley’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenching shut.

Dale lifted the gun he had yet to holster. “Dad.”

“You ain’t shot me yet, you ain’t gonna do it now,” Mitchell said, mockery in his voice. “Told you that you was a pussy. Came from living with your mama all those years. Why don’t you just get on out of here now?”

But Dale wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were focused behind his father and I knew he’d seen the true danger in the room.

“Ridley. Don’t. Okay?”

Mitchell glanced over his shoulder.

The next moments were a blur of noise and screams and bellows of rage.

Ridley grabbed Mitchell, one big arm snaking around his neck.

Dale pulled the trigger on his gun. His father got a shot off too, and glass shattered somewhere in the cabin.

Then, it was over and Ridley was on the ground. I grabbed the suede blanket from the back of the couch, and shoved it against his shoulder. His face was pale, his eyes glossy with pain.

In front of me, father and son faced off, guns raised. They were just a few feet apart, so almost any shot fired would hit its target. The only difference was, Derrell Mitchell, Sr didn’t look at all disturbed by the idea of killing his son. Dale, however, looked more torn than anybody I’d ever seen in my life.

“Kill the fucker,” Ridley whispered.

I looked down at him.

He reached up with his good hand, panting.

I’d been thinking the same thing until the moment Ridley had spoken it out loud. If Dale hadn’t been there, maybe things would’ve been different, but I’d watched Dale save Carly and Haley’s life. He’d tried to save mine. I might have still wanted to kill Mitchell, but I wasn’t sure I could do that to Dale. Not again. I’d taken his brother from him. Could I take his father too? And right in front of him? Could I be that kind of monster?

But...

Haley’s face flashed into my mind. Carly’s.

Then I looked down at Ridley.

No, I didn’t like the son of a bitch, and if he hadn’t been bleeding out from a gunshot, I might’ve tried beating the shit out of him, but he hadn’t been the mastermind here. Mitchell had used him to get to my daughter. Mitchell had been ready to kill anybody he could just to get to me.

Now it looked like anybody included his own son.

The least I could do for Dale was save his life, no matter what it meant for me.

Slowly, I slid my hand into the pocket of the borrowed pants, closed it around the grip of the gun. It felt heavier than I knew it was. I’d taken lives before and they each came with a weight.

Like before, though, this was something I had to do.

“Put that toy down, Dale, or use it. Because I ain’t gonna wait much longer.” As he threatened his son, he smiled.

“Dad, don’t do this,” Dale pleaded.

I had no doubt Dale could do it. He was a cop and if the man in front of him hadn’t been his father, he’d probably already be dead. But Dale didn’t have much family left. He was being forced to choose between his dad, and the man who’d killed his brother.

I couldn’t let him make that choice.

I took a step forward.

“Why are you pointing that at him, Mitchell?” I said softly. “I’m the one you want dead.”

“Bobby, shut up!” Dale shouted.

“Come on, Mitchell,” I said, ignoring Dale as I continued to walk. They hadn’t looked away from the other, and I could see the tension they had on their respective triggers. “Put the guns down. Mitchell, you and I can leave here, get in my car and just leave. You get the keys, you decide where we go.”

“I’m not looking to take you on a Sunday cruise, boy.”

“The cops are going to be swarming this place soon.” I shrugged, layering on the bullshit as fast as I could. “They weren’t too concerned about sending an ex-con up here, but you had a kid. You had Carly. Once she gets to the cops and tells them that it’s just us, well, you screwed yourself right there.”

He swung the gun in my direction. “You think I don’t know what’s going to happen? I’m a dead man already! I just plan on taking you with me!”

Dale lunged.

Mitchell swung the gun back and pulled the trigger.

The impact stopped Dale in his tracks. He went to his knees, his hands going to his chest.

Mitchell let out a sound that was part roar, part denial and then he spun around to face me. “You see what you made me do! You see!” He stormed toward me and grabbed my left arm. He half-dragged me toward Dale’s body as I struggled to keep my grip on the gun with my right hand.

I stared down at Dale, at his slack face, his closed eyes – at his moving chest.

There was no blood.

No blood.

My eyes caught the tear in his shirt and I almost choked, trying to keep quiet as I saw the dark fibers of a Kevlar vest.

But Mitchell didn’t see any of that.

He swung back to face me and I didn’t move in time to dodge the butt of his gun. Pain exploded across my face and I fell, unable to catch myself and still keep the gun hidden in my pocket.

“You stupid, stupid...”

Dully, I saw him move to kick Dale and I crawled, placing my body between them. “Don’t,” I muttered. Blood filled my mouth and I choked, gagged. I spit out a mouthful and then another.

“Your fault.” Mitchell stumbled a few feet away. “I lost it all because of you. My wife. My boys. It’s all you.”

He turned and stared at me.

I saw the gun lifting.

I dragged mine free, but I already knew I was too late.

The crashing noise mingled with white-hot pain.

The last thing I remembered was the look of surprise on his face, and then he was falling, right down on top of me.