THIRTY-SEVEN
I exhale hard,shaking my head as I watch the scene unfold through the window. I’m itching to bust in there, because the crazy eyes on that Brent guy give me a horrible feeling in my gut. Brian’s an asshole abuser, but this Brent guy… his preppy almost-a-professor exterior is meant to hide something. But he’s only semi-adept at the facade. He seems not quite all there. Unhinged. We’ve gotta do something and fast.
“Stop hitting her.” My sister’s voice rings out loud and clear as she gives her asshole husband a twisted smile. “She’s not used to it like I am, dickhead.”
I blink. Whoa. Where’d that attitude come from?
Brian chuckles as he steps in to take Brent’s place before the two girls. “You’ve gotten quite the mouth on you since you’ve been away. How the actual fuck are the two of you friends after all this? That’s what I want to know. You get that I’ve been fucking her for months, right?”
River throws her head back and laughs. “I hate that for her.”
Kara shakes her head, giving him a grim smile. “I hate it for me, too, Todd. And to answer your question, we were already friendly, so when you showed up tonight and we realized we were with the same insufferable prick, guess what? Instant girl bond, you jackass.” Brian lunges and roughly grips her face with one hand, coming in close to whisper something in her ear that I can’t hear. It can’t be good because she rears back before spitting in his face.
My blood runs cold. Brian lets go of Kara, but with a sick curl of his lips, shoves her by the shoulders so that the chair tips. She screams as her head hits the wall behind her with a deafening crack. The chair topples to the floor with her tied to it.
Oh, fuck. I cover my mouth so I don’t make a sound, then turn, my gaze bouncing among Beckham, Royal, and Echo. As I stare, disbelief pouring through me, Chase lets loose with a wail. “I want my mamaaa!”
I’ve never seen Echo so scared as she is in that instant. She motions to the window. “Let me see.” My throat has gone completely dry as I lift her by the waist so she can have a quick look. From the look in her eyes when I set her back down, I can’t say that she feels any better, having seen her child crying in the arms of that mad woman. Echo’s breathing is ragged, and her hands cover her face.
I rasp out, “We’re going to get them out of there, but we need a diversion. Now.” I touch Royal’s shoulder. “What do you want to do?”
Even though he appears badly flustered by the sound of Chase’s distress, Royal regroups quickly, then points at the empty metal trash can a few feet away. “We knock it over, then watch for what they do. They’ll send one of them out to find out what made the noise, I’m sure of it.”
“Good idea. We take one out of the equation.” Beckham exhales with a quiet huff, rubbing a hand over his cheek, his eyes bright.
I hold up a finger, creeping back to the window to look inside one more time. My eyes flick to Brent as he approaches Megan with Chase, who continues to carry on, which, good for him. His cries are another distraction we can use in our favor.
“Babe,” Brent barks, “calm the kid down, fuckin’ please.” And then… he grabs Megan by the back of the neck, yanks her lips to his, and kisses her thoroughly. I blink. What the fuck?
I glance at Beckham, who is also watching what he can. “That’s?—”
“His stepmother,” Beckham finishes, a disgusted look slides over his face. “Let’s do this.”
With her history, it makes me wonder how long they’ve been fucking around behind her husband’s—his father’s—back. And it’s not important right now, as twisted as it is. “Beck when I give the signal, you and Royal go left, Echo and I will go right. Whichever pair doesn’t encounter whoever comes out to check on the noise gets the pleasure of going into the cabin to deal with the ones remaining inside.” I meet each of their eyes, the love I have for each of them nearly suffocates me. But I can’t let it hold me back or stop me from what we need to do. “Royal, kick the shit out of that can.”
A moment later, Royal boots it, and it goes flying, first crashing against the back of the cabin before hitting the ground, landing with a clatter on top of its lid.
All of us keep clear of the window as the noise draws the attention of the group inside. After several seconds of confusion, I poke my head back up just enough to get a visual. The blood drains from my face as Brian produces a gun from behind his back. Fuck. I should have anticipated a firearm from the filthy cop. I hold up my hand, making a pistol with my hand.
Royal’s quietly murmured, “Fuck,” is all that’s said, but I know that information has reached Echo and Beckham, too, based on their quick inhalations.
“Here”—Brian gestures to Smith that he should take the weapon from him—“go out and see what the fuck that was.” When Smith doesn’t automatically follow orders, Brian shoots a nasty scowl in his direction.
Backing up unsteadily without his cane, Smith’s leg almost gives out. He must have dropped his walking aid at some point—possibly when we made all the noise back here. Good. Anything that throws them off balance. Pun intended, poor fucker. Smith shakes his head, his eyes darting to the women, where River has scooted herself backward in her chair, eyes trained on Kara.
Echo’s sister isn’t moving, and I hope to fuck she’s not seriously hurt. It fills me with regret to not explain to Echo what’s happening in there, but she’s already worked up about Megan having her hands on Chase, and we need her head in this if we’re going to have a chance at getting everyone out of there.
Smith’s voice is low, his words a fast-paced jumble. “No. Come on, man. This has gone too far. I don’t want any part of whatever you’re planning to do.”
Brent walks over to him, cocking his head to the side like a snake deciding whether or not to strike. “Seriously? I don’t know what my little sister ever saw in you, you limp-dicked douche. You’ve already played a part in avenging Alicia’s death, same as us. How hard is that to understand?”
Smith’s face is pale as he looks back and forth between Brent and Brian. “Look. All I’ve done is write an ugly note on a motherfucking Post-it and leave a shitty message on her artwork. I tried to scare her, like you asked. But I’m done.”
“Are you saying you aren’t down with this?” Brian eyes him, a nasty glint in his eye.
Brent laughs. “You’re just like your twin. Freya was doing great with the texts and the photos of Echo’s parents. Everything went south when she didn’t want to kidnap the kid.” He sneers at Smith. “Your sister became a liability, so I got rid of her. You think I won”t kill you, too? You’re pathetic. These people—they’re all linked to Royal in one way or another. We’re going to hurt all of them.”
I guess they didn’t believe Kara was telling them the truth about Royal not being the driver.
Smith lets out an anguished cry, his expression one of genuine shock. “Y-you killed my sister?”
Brian walks over and uses the butt of the gun to smack him upside the head without waiting for Brent to answer him. Smith goes down like a sack of potatoes as River screams, Chase cries, and Megan laughs, like this is some sort of comedy show she’s watching.
I gesture to the others with a quick hand signal. One down.
“Now”—Brian mutters, a disgusted look on his face—“would you please go fucking check out back?”
Brent’s voice is agitated when he grumbles, “If there’s a fucking bear out there?—”
We can’t afford to wait any longer. “Go,” I choke out, taking Echo’s hand in mine as I run for one side of the house while Royal and Beckham head around the other side. It’s like a game of Russian roulette. Which of us is going to have to deal with the asshole with the gun? Who’s going to take the bullet?
We creep along the side of the house, Echo’s hand gripping mine tightly, then pause to listen as we hear the door open and slam shut. Footsteps. They’re coming this way. I exhale, preparing myself for a fight. My heart thunders, but I’ve never been more ready. I turn to Echo, gripping her head in my hands. “I love you,” I rasp quietly, then slam my lips against hers. I hope she knows what she means to me. I point to a spot farther back, then mouth, “Crouch down. You stay there.”
Her lips pinch together but thank fuck she listens. Hurrying back, she squats down against the building while I move toward the sound of cautious footsteps—and the man who is about to come around the corner.
I flatten myself against the wall, clenching and unclenching my fists. My entire body is primed to strike.
The stupid motherfucker is hardly paying attention. Maybe he’s really expecting it to have been an animal that toppled the trash can. His mistake. He spots me as I step forward and deliver a punch that lands on the side of his head. The force of it travels up my arm like a shock wave. It’s a solid hit, and he hardly has time to register surprise or make a sound before he loses consciousness, his body falling limply to the ground. The gun lands with an ominous thud.
Echo is beside me in a second, whipping the belt from her jean shorts. “Here. Let’s use this.”
“Good call.” I give her an approving nod.
She gestures with a quick whisper. “Roll him to his stomach, it’s harder to get up when your hands are behind your back.”
“I don’t think he’s getting up anytime soon, but definitely.” I shove him over, yanking his arms behind him. Dude is out cold.
“Good.” Echo quickly fastens the belt tightly around his wrists while I hold them for her. No way is he getting them free, so even if he wakes up, he’ll have trouble maneuvering, definitely won’t be able to drive outta here if he tries to run.
I pick up the pistol, catching her eye. “Can you shoot a handgun?”
“Um. Yeah. If it comes down to it. Yes.”
I put the weapon on safe before handing it to her. “I want you to be able to protect yourself when we go in there. One of them comes at you, flip the safety off and pull the trigger. Don’t ask questions.”
She heaves out a breath. “Okay, but what about you?”
I grip the back of her neck and stamp another kiss to her mouth. Hurriedly, I rasp out, “I’d rather you have it.” Gesturing to the knocked-out asshole in the grass, I finish, “I’m a motherfucking weapon on my own.”
Wide-eyed, Echo nods and swallows hard as we stand up. “Did I hear him right?” she whispers. “He killed Freya and Zane?”
I nod. “Yep. Because she didn’t want to kidnap Chase.”
Before she has a chance to comment, raised voices from inside the cabin steal our attention. My chest tightens. Beckham and Royal have gone in.
The sound of a gunshot ricochets through my head. My gaze connects with Echo’s, the terror that fills me mirrored in her horror-stricken green eyes.