Chapter Twenty-Three
Driving well over the speed limit, KC headed straight for his uncle’s apartment.
He shouldn’t have left while the police were investigating the incident, but he needed to see Moriah with his own eyes.
If he hadn’t been so focused on getting to her, he might have noticed the dark sedan trailing him through town.
He pulled his Charger into a space in front of the hardware store and was out of the car before the engine fully cut off. The sidewalk door gave way under his key, and he took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he knocked once and called out, “It’s me. Open up.”
The door flew open, and Moriah launched herself at him.
He caught her easily, pulling her in close as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hand sliding up and down her back. “Easy. It’s okay. Everything’s under control. I can’t stay long, but I needed to see you.”
“I’m fine now that I know you’re okay,” she said against his chest.
With his fingers, he tipped her chin up and kissed her.
The moment their lips met, something in his chest eased.
She tasted like the coffee she’d been drinking, warm and familiar, and the soft sound she made against his mouth went straight through him.
He drew her closer, holding her a little tighter than he meant to, relief settling in now that he knew she was safe.
A noise behind her reminded them they weren’t alone. She reluctantly ended the kiss and eased back within his arms. “Can I go back with you?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll come get you once they’re gone. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”
She nodded, even if she didn’t look thrilled about it.
KC glanced across the room to where his uncle sat in his usual chair, a satisfied grin on his face. “Thanks, Uncle Dan. I’ll be back in a bit.”
The older man chuckled. “You might want to make it quick. This one’s been giving me a hard time at backgammon.”
KC dropped his gaze to her, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I’m impressed. Not many people can keep up with him.”
She shrugged lightly. “I had a good teacher.”
“Clearly.”
He gave her one more squeeze and a brief kiss before stepping back. The sooner things were wrapped up at the beach house, the sooner he could bring her back where she belonged—safe and out of reach of anyone who might try to take her from him.
A block from the hardware store, Kellerman kept his gaze fixed on the building as the burly man came down from the second-floor apartment, got back into his vehicle, and made a sharp U-turn out of sight.
That didn’t sit right.
What was he doing upstairs?
Kellerman had kept the beach house under watch long enough to catch the comings and goings that mattered. He’d seen her earlier—out in the driveway with four men, two of whom left shortly after.
After that, movement had been minimal. A third man left later on, but she hadn’t come back outside. Not once.
That didn’t add up.
The timing of this guy’s sudden departure after the cops showed up pointed somewhere else.
He shifted his focus back to the building, running through the possibilities. If the man had rushed over here the first chance he got, whatever he wanted was inside that apartment. Maybe the woman. Maybe something connected to her. Either way, it was worth checking.
He eased his vehicle into an alley three doors down from the entrance and killed the engine. The quiet that followed was broken only by the faint hum of the town settling into the evening.
He glanced at the man in the passenger seat. “Let’s handle this and get out of here.”
They both slipped out of the car, closing the doors quietly. Moving on foot, they exited the alley and stepped onto the sidewalk, their attention sweeping the street out of habit. The town looked still, storefronts dark, no one lingering nearby.
Good.
They crossed to the door, and Kellerman crouched at the lock, pulling out his tools. The mechanism gave way in under a minute, as expected. He pushed the door open enough for them to slip inside, then eased it shut.
The stairwell loomed ahead, dim and narrow. Without a word, they started up, each step measured, every sound kept to a minimum as they moved toward whatever waited on the second floor.
Moriah and Dan had just started another competitive game when Jinx suddenly jumped off the new couch and fixed his gaze on the front door.
The low, threatening growl that followed sent a chill straight through her.
The dog was usually easygoing—playful even—but there was nothing playful in the sound rumbling from his chest now.
Dan shot out of his chair, yanked open the drawer of the side table, and pulled out his Colt revolver. Before she could fully process what was happening, he pressed the weapon into her hands and guided her toward the bedroom.
“Go in there, lock the door, and call 9-1-1.”
“But… but…” The words tangled in her throat as panic took hold.
“Don’t argue—just go,” he said under his breath, firm and urgent.
Fear took over. She hurried to the small bedroom, casting one last glance over her shoulder.
Dan had already grabbed a baseball bat from the closet near the kitchenette.
The sight of it only made her pulse race faster.
She slipped inside the room, eased the door shut, and turned the lock as quietly as she could.
Her hand went straight to her pocket.
Nothing.
Damn it!
Her phone was still out in the living room.
A fresh wave of terror surged, but she forced herself to look around.
There—a landline on the nightstand across the bed.
She scrambled over the mattress, nearly dropping the revolver as she reached for the receiver.
Her hands shook so badly she had to set the gun down to dial.
The first attempt came out wrong. So did the second.
On the third try, the call finally connected.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
The calm, steady voice on the other end unraveled the last thread holding her together. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to speak, but she managed to give the information through the fear clawing up her throat.
When the operator told her to stay on the line, she swallowed hard. “I—I’m putting the phone down so I can hold the gun,” she said, her voice trembling. She didn’t wait for a response. The receiver slipped from her fingers onto the bed as she grabbed the revolver again.
She dropped to her knees on the floor beside the bed, using the mattress as cover as she raised the weapon with both hands, like KC had shown her.
The weight of it felt different now—heavier, more real.
She aimed the muzzle over the edge of the bed toward the door, forcing herself to keep it steady as she listened.
Every creak, every faint sound from the other room seemed amplified, her pulse pounding in her ears as she strained to hear what was happening beyond the door.
Dan pressed his back against the wall beside the front door, the baseball bat raised and ready. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, his focus locked on the entrance. Jinx stood in the middle of the room, rigid and alert, a deep, continuous growl vibrating from his chest.
Then the dog’s growl snapped into furious barking.
The door exploded inward with a sharp crack.
Dan didn’t hesitate. He swung with everything he had at the man charging through the doorway, a gun clutched in his hand.
The first strike connected with the man’s raised forearm, knocking the weapon loose.
It clattered across the floor, out of reach.
Dan followed through immediately, the second blow landing square across the man’s face.
The impact snapped his head to the side, and he dropped hard, crumpling in the doorway.
Dan held his position, breath coming fast, listening for movement beyond the threshold. Nothing came. No footsteps, no voices—only Jinx’s barking echoing off the walls.
After a few seconds, he stepped forward and crouched, reaching toward the downed man to check for another weapon.
A sharp crack exploded at his temple.
Pain flared white-hot, stealing his balance before he could react. The room tilted, then dropped out from under him. He collapsed forward, landing hard on top of the man he’d just taken down.
Somewhere nearby, Jinx let out a sharp, distressed yelp as everything went dark.
Ignoring the unconscious men and the soft whine of the dog nudging at its fallen owner, Kellerman stepped over the bodies and swept his gaze across the small apartment. Nothing of interest in the main room. His attention landed on a closed door off the living room—likely the bedroom.
He moved toward it with purpose. The knob didn’t budge when he tried it.
This time, he didn’t bother to pick it. He stepped back and drove his heel into the door. The frame splintered as the door flew inward. He shifted immediately to the side, keeping his body out of the opening as he brought his weapon up, ready in case whoever was inside decided to fire.
Silence.
After a few heartbeats, he leaned in enough to look around the jamb but not put himself in the line of fire.
There she was.
Moriah Jensen sat on the far side of the bed, eyes wet, hands wrapped around a revolver. The weapon wavered as she tried to keep it trained on him, the tremor in her arms impossible to miss.
A low laugh slipped out before he could stop it. “Come on out, Ms. Jensen. I just want to talk to you.”
He waited, watching her. She didn’t move.
His patience wore thin, and he let out a long, exaggerated breath. “You’re only making this harder on yourself. All I want is the money and the gun. Once I get what I want, you can walk away from this.”
“You’ll never let me live!”
Irritation flickered through him. He lifted his weapon, the suppressor extending the barrel. He couldn’t kill her—not yet. Not until she told him where the bag was. For now, he would only wound her.
Pivoting on his feet, he prepared to enter the room, keeping the muzzle angled toward where she knelt behind the bed.
He never saw the black Labrador moving in from across the room.
As Kellerman lifted his right foot to step inside, the dog lunged and sank his teeth into his left thigh.
From her position behind the bed, Moriah kept the revolver trained on the doorway, her focus locked on the opening where he stood just out of sight. His voice still echoed in her ears, the threat beneath his words turning her stomach.
Then, suddenly, he stumbled into view with a shout of pain and Jinx clamped onto his leg.
The dog’s growl had turned vicious, his body twisting and pulling as he fought to bring the intruder down.
The man lurched forward, struggling to stay upright against the dog’s weight, his movements jerky and uncontrolled.
His hand clenched around the gun.
The weapon discharged.
The crack was deafening in the small room as the bullet slammed into the ceiling above her. Plaster dust rained down, and Moriah flinched, her pulse spiking hard enough to make her vision blur.
Focus.
She dragged in a breath, then let it out slowly, as KC had taught her. The world narrowed to the man in the doorway, his body pitching as Jinx fought him.
She didn’t have time to think.
She aimed the revolver, centering on the man’s chest, and squeezed the trigger.
The recoil jolted through her arms, kicking the barrel upward and altering the bullet’s trajectory. The man’s head snapped back, a sharp spray striking the wood beside him. Jinx released him as he dropped, hitting the floor with a heavy, final thud.
Silence rushed in, broken only by her uneven breathing and the ringing in her ears.
For a moment, she couldn’t move.
Then instinct took over. She pushed to her feet and rushed around the bed, stepping carefully over the body and avoiding the dark pool spreading across the floor.
Jinx had already turned back, nudging at his fallen owner before licking his face, a soft, distressed sound replacing the earlier fury.
Moriah dropped to her knees beside him. “Dan…” Her voice broke as she shook his shoulder.
A faint sound escaped him, followed by a slight turn of his head.
Relief surged through her, leaving her shaking as tears spilled over. She brushed a hand over his cheek, her gaze catching on the blood at his temple before dropping lower—taking in the unmoving man beneath him. His chest rose and fell, but he didn’t stir.
Her attention flicked toward the other body sprawled across the floor a few feet away. He was obviously dead, and the realization hit her hard, her stomach turning as that fact caught up with her.
She forced herself to refocus on her surroundings and the open front door. The revolver was still clutched in her hand, and she kept it there, unwilling to take any chances.
The apartment had gone eerily quiet, the chaos of moments ago replaced by the distant wail of approaching sirens. Jinx stayed close, pressed against Dan’s side, his low whine the only sound inside the room.
Moriah swallowed hard and stayed where she was, her free hand holding Dan’s as the sirens grew louder, closing the distance. Help would arrive soon, and then she could fall apart.