Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“Why—why are there so many weapons in that safe?” Tom’s eyes were huge as his head craned, and he peered inside the cavernous space. Uncle Milo would never go for a small gun safe. The mere idea would insult him.
“Her Uncle Milo is a collector of weapons,” Eb responded as he continued to block the doorway. “Everyone needs a hobby, am I right?” He smiled. One dimple winked. An exact copy of Jake’s rare smile. “Don’t worry, Tom, we’re not stealing anything from Milo. We texted him. He gave us permission to borrow a few supplies—when he was giving us the safe combination.”
Wren eased out a low breath. “I wish you’d gone with Jake,” Wren told Eb.
Eb’s jaw hardened. “The bar’s entrance and exit have been secured. We’ll stay here until we hear back from Jake.” He sidled around her and headed for the open safe. Tom’s neck was extended as he studied everything inside that he could spy. “Uh, excuse me?” Eb asked, voice pleasant.
Tom jumped as if a snake had just bitten him.
“I need to close this. Though, first, don’t mind if I do…” He pulled out a Glock. “The old standard. Jake took one. Only fair that I have one for myself. I’m sure Milo would want me to keep one close.”
Tom shoved his hands behind his back and hurriedly retreated as he watched Eb load the weapon.
“Police love this gun,” Eb explained to him. “I own several just like it.” He studied the weapon. “Always gets the job done.”
“Oh, God.” Tom sat down, rather heavily, on a nearby, wooden chair. “Have you killed a lot of people?”
Eb kept staring at the gun. “Define ‘a lot’ for me, would you, Tom?”
“Oh, God.”
“That’s a pretty bad definition. Want to try again?”
Declan Flynn did not disappoint. By the time the perp sent the next set of directions to Tom’s phone, Declan was on the line with Hunter giving an exact address for the SOB.
They rushed right to the location, cutting through roads and racing toward the low-end motel that waited just on the edge of town. There were only two cars in the lot. One was a top-of-the-line, gleaming white Benz that stuck out like a sore thumb. A convertible Benz.
The other was a beat-up work truck.
The convertible sat in front of room number seven. All the rooms were accessible from the outside. Bright red doors. Windows to the right of each door.
The work truck was in front of room thirteen.
Jake’s gaze locked on the convertible. “I fucking know that car,” he said. He reached for the door handle.
“Bulletproof vest!” Hunter snapped. He grabbed the vests from the backseat and shoved one at Jake. “We brought them for a reason! We don’t know who the hell is waiting in there.”
Actually, Jake thought that he did know…
They stalked back into the main section of the bar. Wren found herself standing on the small dance floor. It had been just a few days ago when she’d been in practically that same spot with her friends. Jake had walked inside the bar, moving with that predatory grace of his as he cut through the other dancers. As soon as she’d seen him, she’d been unable to look away.
Then she’d kissed him. Again, practically in that same spot. One kiss that had completely changed her world. Because after that kiss, she’d fled. He’d followed. Saved her.
Kissed her again.
“Are you getting a drink?” Tom asked, the words holding a note of surprise.
She looked toward the long bar counter on the right. Eb stood behind it.
“This isn’t for me.” Eb held up a bottle of whiskey. “I thought you could use a glass, Tom. You’re not exactly having the best day, you know?”
Tom almost tripped in his haste to get to that bar.
“A little liquid courage?” Eb mused. He put the bottle on the bar top. Grabbed a glass from beneath the counter and pushed it toward Tom.
With shaking fingers, Tom poured the glass full of the whiskey. He downed it all in one gulp. The glass clinked when he put it back down. “I needed that.” His shoulders hunched as he leaned toward the bar. “I’ll take whatever courage I can get.”
“So, how are we gonna handle this?” Hunter glanced at room number seven and then at number thirteen. They’d slid the college kid at the front desk fifty bucks, and he’d confirmed these were the only two rooms with guests. He’d also provided them with descriptions of the occupants.
“I say we knock on the door.” Jake stalked straight to room number seven. With zero hesitation, he lifted his foot and kicked in the door. The wood shattered. The door flew inward, and Jake charged over the threshold. “Knock, knock.”
Jennifer Kent screamed as she leapt off the sagging bed. Her eyes were huge and horrified, and she clutched a phone in her hand.
Jake aimed his weapon at her. “Found you.”
“ No!” She stumbled backwards. Tripped. Fell on her ass. “Don’t shoot me! Don’t!’
“You have one loud-ass knock,” Hunter noted as he ambled inside. He also had his gun up and ready. He frowned at Jennifer. “She’s the mastermind? Her?”
“ I’m not! I’m not! I’m not the mastermind! ” Jennifer dropped the phone, put her hands up, and remained on the floor. “Tom just asked me to help him—he had these instructions that I was supposed to send to his phone. H-he told me what happened to Makayla. Said he needed my help to get her back, and I just—I felt so guilty that I had to help him.”
Jake did not lower his gun. “Why do you feel guilty, Jennifer?’
Her head sagged forward. Her chin almost touched her chest. “Because Tom and I hooked up a few months ago. We were both drunk. At least, the first time, we were.”
Was this BS for real?
“Makayla never found out or…I don’t think she did.” She bit her lower lip. “Now she’s gone, and I’m a shitty friend, a super shitty maid of honor, and I just—I wanted to help get her back, okay? To make amends. Tom called me earlier. He…he asked me to come here and meet him. We, um, we met here when we hooked up…” The words trailed away miserably. “When I arrived, he told me what was happening. Asked me to send some texts. He said he had a plan to get her back.” Her eyes lifted to the gun. “Don’t shoot me.”
A plan to get her back.
“Oh, I’m thinking Tom had a plan all right,” Hunter mused.
Fuck. Yeah, the bastard sure did have a plan. The tricky sonofabitch. Jake whipped out his phone and called his brother.
“I love Makayla,” Tom said with a determined bob of his dead. “I’d do anything for her.” He released the glass. His hand fell back to his side. “ Anything. ”
A phone rang.
Wren jumped at the sound.
Eb tugged a phone from his back pocket. “It’s Jake.” His brows pulled low as he stared at the screen. His thumb swiped across?—
“I have to get her back!” Tom suddenly yelled. He lunged over the bar top and shoved something against Eb’s chest.
Eb shuddered. Jolted. A guttural growl tore from him even as Wren screamed.
The phone fell from Eb’s fingers.
And Tom kept shoving the taser in his hand right against Eb’s shaking chest.
Eb answered on the second ring.
“Eb,” Jake snarled before his brother could say a word. “Tom is lying to us, watch out for?—”
A guttural growl—then a scream, Wren’s scream—filled the line.
Jake’s heart stopped beating.
A clatter. More yells.
Silence.
“Eb?” Jake said his brother’s name even as fear curled around his heart. “ Eb, talk to me. ”
But Eb didn’t talk to him. The line had gone dead. He immediately tried to call again, but the phone rang and rang.
“What is happening?” Hunter demanded. He stood right beside a crouching Jennifer.
Jake stared straight at her.
She shook her head. “I-I was just told to send the texts. To do it every five minutes. He said it would help—that we had to bring Makayla home, no matter what it took.”
No matter what it took…
“The bastard is a dead man,” Jake vowed. “Bring her,” he told Hunter with a jerk of his weapon toward Jennifer. Then he whirled for the door.
Wren jumped on Tom’s back with a shriek. She wrapped her arms around his neck and heaved back. The taser finally fell away from Eb’s chest, but his eyes had closed, and he fell behind the bar.
Tom threw her off him. Wren hurtled and slammed into a table. It crashed beneath her, and she hit the floor.
Tom spun toward her. He still had the taser clutched in his hand.
Would the taser work again? She hadn’t gotten a good look at the one in his grip. She couldn’t be sure without knowing what type of taser it was.
She just knew that Tom was closing in.
“I don’t like guns,” he told her.
Her searching fingers grabbed a broken chunk of a table leg.
“I saw this inside the big safe. Grabbed it.” He looked down at the taser. “I’m sure Eb will be okay.”
“He just took a ton of voltage to the chest. You aren’t sure of anything!” She staggered to her feet. Gripped the table leg like a baseball bat. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I have to get Makayla back.” He sucked in a deep, heaving breath. “It’s you or it’s her, Wren.”
“What?” Was Eb okay? Please be okay, Eb.
“I got a phone call. That part of my story was true. I heard her. My sweet Makayla. She can come home.” He took a lurching step toward her. “But only if I trade you.”
Wren shook her head.
A phone was ringing behind the bar. Eb’s phone? Her own phone was still in Honey’s custody.
“I have to trade you. She’s not the one he wants. This is about you. You…you’re evil, Wren.”
No, no. “Stay the hell away from me.”
But he took another step toward her. “I heard all the people talking about your father at Makayla’s house. All the things he did. All the things you had to see. My Makayla—she’s never hurt anyone. But can you say the same?”
“I am going to hurt the hell out of you if you take one more step toward me.” Because who had taught her how to swing a bat so long ago? Eb and Jake. They’d played varsity baseball. She’d gone to their games. Watched as they hit home runs. Eb had teasingly shown her how to make a quick hit one night after a big win. Then Jake had painstakingly gone through the process with her again because he’d said what Eb had shown her had just been bullshit.
She gripped that table leg and got ready for a home run swing.
Tom kept clutching the taser. “I love her. Don’t…don’t you love her, too? Isn’t she your best friend?”
“Yes, she’s my friend, and I?—”
“Trade for her,” he said. Begged. “Prove that you care. Just take her place. You know that Jake will come for you. He’ll save you. I have to save her. This is the only way I can do that.”
Wren shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. Then he lunged straight for her.
Wren screamed again. She swung the table leg, and it shattered against his shoulder when it made impact. Tom bellowed in pain, but didn’t stop his advance. He shoved the taser at her, jamming it into her side, but it did nothing.
Wren had no weapon now, so she fought with her hands. Her feet. But she couldn’t stop him. He threw down the taser, and his hands went around her neck. He drove her back with his hold, and they barreled into another table, then a wall and then…
He pinned her against the wall. Her hands clawed at his grip. Too tight. Too painful.
“I’m sorry, Wren,” he said, and it sounded as if he meant those words. “But I choose her.”