Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Grace arched a brow as she glanced at Carl and Beck, chilling in the recliners near the TV as they watched the Eagles and the Giants kickoff.
Behind them, Gene stared at his phone again.
“Why not watch it?” Grace asked, gesturing to the TV.
“’Cause I’d rather play.”
Grace nodded. “A doer, like your father. So, how do you play on your phone?”
As Hudson began explaining, Heavenly sank into the couch and tucked her feet beneath her.
“C’mon, where’s the flag?” Carl barked at the TV. “That’s holding, for shit’s sake.”
“Carl,” Grace chided sternly. “We have young ears here.”
Beck snorted. Heavenly repressed a grin. And Hudson smirked as he kept right on playing.
When the game broke for a commercial, a soft buzz echoed in the room. Heavenly looked up to find Gene snapping to attention. He grabbed his phone, his stare glued to the screen.
Instantly, his expression shifted—relief flooded his features, followed by something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Resolve?
Heavenly wasn’t sure what that was about. A work thing, maybe? A bet on the game? She didn’t know Gene well enough to guess.
He pocketed the phone, seeming to tuck away the distraction. Then he turned his attention to the game on the big screen. “I hope neither of you are Eagles fans. The Giants are gonna take it. Their defense is too strong this year.”
Beck raised a brow. “You sure about that?”
Gene grinned. “Damn right. If Seth were here, he’d agree with me, too.”
He probably would.
Where on earth was he? Since Seth was a huge Giants fan, she knew he didn’t want to miss this game. Maybe he stopped to get something besides orange juice? Or maybe he’d run into someone he’d grown up with?
While Carl and Gene talked about players and their stats, Beck glanced at the front door, as if he wondered what was keeping Seth, too.
Heavenly tried to tamp down her concern. If he needed help, he’d call.
As the room settled, exhaustion tugged at Heavenly. Beck and Seth hadn’t let her sleep much last night, and after a busy day, her lids felt heavy. She could really use a nap.
It was probably too early to blame her exhaustion on pregnancy, but soon…
She closed her eyes. Just for a minute, she promised herself.
When she blinked and sat up a few minutes later, Grace had shifted closer to Hudson on the couch, leaning in as he explained his game in a low voice, play by play, his thumbs pausing every so often to demonstrate. She listened intently. Hudson’s face lit up.
Carl and Beck were still glued to the TV, debating something about a defensive formation Heavenly didn’t understand. Gene tuned out of their debate.
He was staring at his phone again—scrolling, pausing. He read something.
His expression shifted. He looked more than focused. His jaw tightened, like he was thinking about something that bothered him.
A few minutes ago, he’d been kicking back and joking with the other men about the game. And now, the next play was underway, and he was glued to his phone.
Had he gotten bad news? Or maybe Gene was just wound a little tight. Not hard to believe of a career cop.
She glanced at Grace, who was smiling and nodding, still absorbed in Hudson’s explanation. She’d known Gene for something like twenty years, and she didn’t seem to think anything was off.
Heavenly thought about grabbing her phone, which was still upstairs, and texting Seth to make sure he was all right. Surely, he’d be back soon…
Suddenly, Gene tensed. He typed something quickly, his thumbs all but pounding on his screen. He waited with a scowl, looking tense, almost…angry.
What was that about?
Heavenly blinked, watching as he typed again, this time even faster, more emphatic.
She sent a sidelong glance to Beck. Despite the game flashing across the TV, he was watching Gene, too.
Their eyes met, and Beck’s brow lifted—the silent equivalent of what’s up with this guy?
Heavenly shrugged back. Maybe that’s just how he is?
Too bad Seth wasn’t here so she could ask. Speaking of… Shouldn’t he be back by now?
Rising to her feet, Heavenly stretched. Maybe she’d text him, make sure he was all right.
By the time she went upstairs, took a bathroom break, found her cell, and settled back on the sofa, she found Gene staring at his phone again.
No, not staring. Glowering. He tapped at the screen—once, twice, three times in quick succession. Then stilled. Waiting. His eyes never wavered. Heavenly could feel the tension pinging off him.
Seriously, what was up with him? A glance proved Grace still hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.
Suddenly, his whole body went rigid, shoulders pulling back like someone had lifted him upright by yanking on his spine. His brow furrowed with agitation. Fury locked his jaw.
Heavenly’s breath caught. If Gene wasn’t a cop, she would have sworn he had murder in his eyes.
Then suddenly, his face went blank, his anger disappearing behind a flat, unreadable mask. Except his sharp eyes. They looked hyper-alert. Almost burning.
Carefully, he pocketed his phone and paced, pausing behind Carl’s and Beck’s recliners. Then he stopped. Stilled.
Braced?
Heavenly’s stomach knotted. Everything about his behavior felt off. Wrong. Almost…menacing.
She clenched her hands in her lap. If Gene was upset about something, why wasn’t he going outside to make a call? Or leaving to deal with whatever it was? Why stew in anger in the middle of Grace’s family room with his face a mask that didn’t quite hide the seething rage in his eyes.
Heavenly swallowed, her throat suddenly tight, and glanced at Beck again, who was leaning forward, focused on the TV as the Giants lined up for another play.
Since Gene hovered behind him now, Beck couldn’t see the man’s face.
Heavenly’s pulse kicked up another notch when Gene started typing again. Even faster than before. Aggressive. His thumb stabbed at the screen. Then he stopped.
He stared. Waited. His jaw flexed.
Heavenly’s hands twisted tighter in her lap. Her chest felt too tight, her breathing shallow.
She didn’t know what was going on. But everything in her gut was screaming that Gene’s behavior had crossed a line from odd to…something she was afraid to put a name to.
With trembling fingers, she opened her phone and started to text Seth, ask him about Gene. Tell him she was afraid.
She hoped like hell he’d reassure her with a few simple words. Or better yet, come strolling through the door and restore her sense of safety.
Before she could, Beck and Carl both jumped out of their seats, high-fiving each other. “Touchdown!”
Despite her unease, Heavenly paused mid-text, a little smile tugging at her lips.
Men…
Then she noticed Gene. He wasn’t celebrating. He wasn’t even looking at the TV. His face was white with rage and a dark determination that terrified her.
And he was holding a gun.
Heavenly tried to process what she was seeing, tried to make sense of the Coopers’ oldest family friend pointing a weapon at Seth’s loved ones. She couldn’t. Instead, she tried to scream, but she only gaped, fear flooding her veins.
“Gene?” Grace sounded confused, her warbled voice detailing her struggle to reconcile what she was seeing with the man she’d known for decades.
“What the fuck?” Hudson shouted, scrambling back against the couch cushion.
Gene ignored them both, his face cold. Deadly. Unwavering.
Carl and Beck stiffened and turned—but it was too late. Gene moved fast, swinging the butt of the gun viciously down onto Carl’s head.
The crack was sickening.
The big, burly man dropped like a stone, his body crumpling, his head hitting the hardwoods with a horrible thud as blood ran down his temple. He didn’t get back up. Didn’t move.
Heavenly yelped, her heart lurching. Fear gripped her belly, stole her breath. Was Carl even alive?
Grace screamed, her worried stare clinging to her new husband as she jumped from the sofa and raced toward him.
“Sit down, Grace!” Gene snarled. “You can’t help him now. None of you can.”
Then, without warning, he swung the gun straight toward Beck. Heavenly watched as if in slow motion. Her eyes widened. A warning buzzed through her head.
Before she could spit out the words, Gene fired.
The deafening sound shattered the once cozy home.
Heavenly flinched, her whole body jerking. Her phone fell from her numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Her ears rang. And her world tilted as Beck cried out and stumbled back, gripping a gaping wound at his shoulder.
As the football game droned on in horrific normalcy, blood oozed from between his fingers and bloomed across his shirt—dark, wet, unmistakable.
“Beck!” Heavenly screamed, instinctively lurching forward.
“No!” Hudson roared at the same time, his voice cracking with horror.
“Don’t move,” Gene snapped as he pointed the weapon directly at them.
She froze. Beside her, Hudson did the same.
Heavenly gaped, barely comprehending. Gene—Gene—had a gun. He’d just knocked Carl unconscious. He’d shot Beck. He was pointing the weapon at her now, at Grace, at Hudson.
This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.
But the blood was real. The sound still ringing in her ears was real.
She blinked at Beck, trying to fight off her shock. His face twisted with both rage and pain, but he shook his head at her. Don’t help him. Don’t be foolishly brave.
What did he expect her to do? She couldn’t stand here and just watch him bleed.
Beside her, Hudson grabbed her elbow. For support? The kid must be terrified.
Then she realized he was holding her back.
Gene raised a brow at Beck, the gun steady in his practiced hand. “If you try anything, I’ll blow your bitch’s fucking head off. And we both know how much you’d hate that.”
Beck’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.
Beside Hudson, Grace started hyperventilating, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Hudson took her hand. “Grandma. Grandma, shh. Squeeze my hand. Just like that…”
“Now that I have your attention…” Gene’s hard voice boomed through the living room. “I suggest you keep your fucking mouths shut and follow my instructions very carefully if you want to live. Saint Seth is going to try to save you soon. When he does, I’ll be ready.”
Heavenly’s chest buckled. Her stomach flipped. Seth! He’d gone on an errand—and if she couldn’t warn him, he’d walk right into an ambush.
Thoughts racing, she scanned the room for her phone, but when she’d dropped it, the device had skittered out of reach. She had no idea how to warn him, but she had to come up with something—or they’d all be dead.