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Claire started at the goon’s low rumble. For a big man who’d been knocked out cold a few minutes before, he moved with unnerving quiet. He looked as if he’d been shot out of a cannon and was completely pissed off about it. Without thinking, she eliminated any space between her and Jake.
“No, Mr. Franklin, we’ll deal with Mr. Warrick and Ms. Layton inside.” Burlington tilted his head toward Harvest’s door. “Shall we?”
She turned to Jake, his features as hard as granite. A vein bulging at his temple was the only give away to his state of mind.
“Why don’t you lead the way, Franklin?” Jake smirked and stepped back to let the big man go first.
The giant grunted at Jake’s request.
“No, Mr. Warrick. You and Ms. Layton go right ahead. Please sit down at a table in the dining room.”
Fear shook within her. The odds were not in their favor. They were outgunned and vulnerable. She wanted to make a mad dash for it, go with her gut and pull a kamikaze attack. The impulse nearly overwhelmed her, but it would be suicide.
She had to think, formulate a plan. If she rushed Burlington or the goon, Jake would back her up, but she doubted they could win in this situation. She couldn’t risk getting him killed. He meant too much to her for that.
With the giant at their backs and a gun aimed at their heads, their only option was to follow orders. Stiff with rage, she strode into the restaurant with Jake by her side.
She glanced up at him as they crossed the threshold and his mask slipped. For the briefest moment she saw the anger eating away at him, then his iron facade fell back into place. She squeezed his hand.
They’d come out alive after facing down a gun before. They’d do it again.
Chapter Fourteen
Do not be an imbecile, Mr. Franklin. Put the gas can away and go get the bag of candles out of the sedan.” Burlington quirked his eyebrows at Jake. “Finding good help is a never-ending endeavor. You really were a promising employee, Mr. Warrick. I dislike having to let you go.”
“Yeah, I can tell your heart’s breaking.” Jake squeezed his hands into tight fists. Fury burned just underneath his skin and demanded release, preferably by pounding Burlington’s face to a bloody pulp.
Burlington leveled the Smith and Wesson at Jake. “Tsk, tsk, Mr. Warrick, sarcasm is the sign of an uneducated mind. I thought you were better than that.”
“Now my heart’s breaking.” Jake stretched his fingers wide and sought out Claire’s hand.
Her fingers held tight to his larger hand. Leaning his head over until her soft, red hair brushed against the side of his forehead, he inhaled her coconut shampoo. “You antagonize while I figure a way out,” he whispered.
She squeezed his palm twice in quick succession.
“You know you won’t get away with this. I’ll hunt you down until you pay for what you let happen to Kendall.” Claire’s voice heaved with indignation.
Burlington let out a frustrated huff. “My dear Ms. Layton, Kendall was not some poor waif tossed asunder by the cruel world.”
Jake scanned the dining room for a weapon. The need to protect Claire overwhelmed all of the worries about what could happen to him. He had to figure a way to get her out of here. The hostess stand with its hidden panic alarm stood a good four feet away near the door, with Burlington standing between him and both options. He’d never be able to smash a chair onto Burlington’s head before the man got off a round.
“No.” Burlington turned the gun so it centered on Claire. “My adoptive daughter brought the end upon herself.”
“Really? I never knew someone could bludgeon themselves to death and toss their own dead body into a Dumpster,” Claire scoffed.
Training his gaze forward, Jake covertly swept the table top behind his back with his fingertips, hoping to nab a set of silverware. A steak knife wasn’t his weapon of choice against a Smith and Wesson, but he’d take what he could get right about now. Moving at the speed of a snail to keep his actions a secret from Burlington, he inched his fingers across the polished table. All he touched was wood. Angry at himself at being caught unaware and unprepared for the umpteenth time in the same day, he returned his empty hand to his side.
“You, Ms. Layton, are an unpleasant woman.”
“Have you taken a look in the mirror lately? You’re not so awesome yourself.”
While Claire snarled at Burlington, Jake kept his gaze locked on the gun. Burlington had it pointed in their general direction, but seemed to have forgotten about it. Jake could cut the space between them in three strides.
“Yeah, I don’t think the father of the year committee has knocked on your door lately, if ever.” Claire lobbed the insult at Burlington like a grenade.
His face reddened as she continued to mouth off. No doubt about it, she let loose plenty of venom when angry. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of her diatribes. It almost made Jake feel sorry for the son of a bitch. Almost.
“That is quite enough, Ms. Layton. I believe you have some things that belong to me. Please put the phone and flash drive on the table.”
