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Fortunately, Logan trusted me. He walked over even as Brittney told him to come back.
“What happened?” he asked me.
“I’m getting you out of here.”
“I need to get my bags.”
“We’ll come back. I’m serious, something is weird.” I steered him with my left hand down the back hall toward the garage because it was closer than the front door, leaving my right hand free to draw my gun if necessary. At every opening, I glanced to assess if there was a threat.
“Is Brad really here?” he asked.
“Someone was driving her car, my guess her boyfriend.”
Brittney ran down the hall after us. As she reached for Logan, I put my arm out so she couldn’t touch him. “Back off,” I ordered.
“How dare you! This is my house.”
Brittney looked panicked. She glanced upstairs and Logan knew exactly what I knew.
“What is he doing in my office?”
“No one is here, baby!”
Logan made a move away from me, toward the staircase.
I grabbed him. “Don’t be stupid,” I told him. “Your life is more valuable than anything you have in there.”
I hadn’t seen Logan angry until that moment. His eyes darkened, a vein in his neck throbbed.
Movement directly above me, at the top of the staircase, had me pushing Logan toward the hall.
“Go!”
A gunshot hit the wall inches above my head. Either Parsons was a bad shot or hadn’t intended to hit me. I pulled my gun at the same time as I pushed Logan to go.
Brittney screamed. “Stop it! Stop it!”
She ran toward me and as I sidestepped I hit the wall, but stayed upright. I stuck my leg out to trip her and she fell forward, hitting her head on the wall. She lay there stunned.
I couldn’t take the time to check her. There wasn’t any blood and she wasn’t dead. Logan turned and looked. “What? Britt—”
“Go!” I said.
Parsons was running down the stairs.
“I will kill you Monroe!” He fired another shot. Glass broke.
We weren’t going to make it to the garage. The hall was too long, and we’d be sitting ducks. I pushed Logan into the first door on the left. It was a theater. Well, shit. The one room without windows to escape.
I locked the door. “The police are on their way.”
To make sure of it, I dialed 9-1-1, put my phone on speaker while trying to assess the room for cover.
It was a sloped room with three tiers of four leather recliners each, all facing a large screen. I ran over to one and started to push it over. Logan came to help me.
The door rattled violently as Parsons tried to get in. He fired a bullet into the lock just as we pushed the chair against the door. The lock didn’t give, but it wouldn’t take much more to break it.
I pointed to an open door that led to a bathroom. “Go in there now. Lock the door.”
