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“I found out where you were crashing, Beckett, and rented the apartment next to yours. Changed my name and waited. Waited for a chance to grab her, but you were always there. Always, dammit. Her shadow.”
This is all your fault. What you deserve. You deserve to die for killing your brother, for killing his father. You caused so much pain.
The little voice of guilt inside her head echoed the taunts Gerald now said, the cruel, callous words that hurt.
Jace, what had Jace said.It’s not your fault, Kara. It was an accident. Conner should never have climbed into the back seat without telling you. Archie Turner should never have run that stoplight. There was nothing you could have done.
The niggling guilt inside her eased, replaced with an odd calm.
“I killed those kids because they overheard Mike telling me you were there with Kara and now was the time to come to the clubhouse. I got there and you weren’t there, but they were and they told me it was too much, they signed up for fun and stealing jewels, but not murder. I couldn’t leave witnesses. Your damn cousin escaped before I could get him.”
“Let her go. It was an accident. It’s me you want, Marcus.” Jace stepped in front of her, shielding her with his big body.
“Oh, you, I’ll deal with you, traitor. The guys will be happy to deliver justice. Right now they’re planting a welcome-home gift in your parents’ house, Kara. Too bad it will blow out half the neighborhood, but I figure they all deserve it, the rich snobs.” Gerald laughed.
A scrabble of paws over rough rock, a furious bark and Darby rounded the corner. Snarling, the dog advanced and leaped at Gerald. Cursing, the man raised his gun. Fired.
Kara screamed. Jace stared at Darby, who was whimpering, lying on the ground.
“You shot my dog,” he said. “No one shoots my dog.”
This was a nightmare, and they were caught in it. No way out. Her terrified gaze flicked to Jace—Jace, who was calm and cool. How could he be so calm?
Gerald kept backing up, close to the porch and wasp’s nest. Jace’s gaze flicked to beneath the porch, where a few wasps flew around.
Gerald raised the gun again.
“Kara, be good.” Jace’s gaze flicked beneath the porch. “Be-e-e good.”
She nodded. Her only chance.Please, let me do this...
Pretending to go boneless with fear, she suddenly lurched forward, and tossed her helmet at the wasps’ nest. Angry insects flew outward, landing on the first object of their fury.
Gerald.
Cursing, he fired, his attention shattered by the wasps flying in his direction. Wasps flew at her, stinging, but she barely felt the pain. Jace uncurled his body and struck.
The kitchen knife hidden in Jace’s pocket suddenly sank deep into Gerald’s shoulder. Clawing at the blade, he snarled at Jace. The two men struggled on the ground, wrestling for the pistol.
Gerald pulled the trigger. The sound was piercing to her ears. Blood blossomed on Jace’s white shirt, but Jace curled his right hand around the knife handle and he yanked it upward. Gerald gagged, as blood spurted. Jace slammed Gerald’s hand against the ground, loosening his grip on the pistol. The man struggled weakly as blood flowed like a burst dam.
“Kara, kick the gun away,” he yelled, straddling Gerald.
Instead, she picked up the gun, and fired, straight into Gerald’s leg. The man screamed.
Jace rolled off him, panting, his shirt stained red. Oh, God, so much blood.
“Watch him while I find something to tie him up.”
He ran into the cabin and returned with lamp cord, winding it around Gerald’s wrists.
Kara handed Jace the gun. “You’re hurt, I have to...”
The sound of motorcycles thundered in the air. Kara’s breath came in little gasps as Jace sank to the ground, the pistol trained on Gerald, who kept moaning.
Motorcycles.
Gerald’s backup.
