Where was her phone?
How could she signal someone?
What could she use to stop him?
Fighting to steady her shaking limbs, she watched him step further into the shop, his eyes sweeping the space like he was deciding which part to destroy first.
“You know,” he said, almost conversationally, “you and your aunt should’ve taken the offer. Could’ve walked away clean.”
He kicked the gas can lightly with his boot, not enough to tip it over, just enough to make sure she saw it. Saw what he planned to do.
“But no, you had to make this hard.”
Laurel’s breath caught
What kind of man walked into a storefront in broad daylight with a weapon and a plan to burn everything down—and thought they were the ones crossing a line?
Her gaze flicked to the back hallway. Twenty steps. Maybe fifteen, if she ran. But she wouldn’t make it with him aiming damn a gun at her.
Her phone was in her bag on the floor in the corner. Too far.
There was a wrench on the floor…next to her bag. Dammit. Also, too far.
Her palms itched with helpless adrenaline. Her brain screamedDo something!Laurel swallowed hard, trying to keep her breathing steady.
She couldn’t scream. Not yet. Not with the gun in his hand and no guarantee anyone was close enough to hear her.
So she made herself speak.
Made herself strong.
“You really think this ends the way you want it to?” Her voice was tight but even. “You think torching a building is going to scare anyone into backing off?”
The corner of his mouth curled, and she hated the satisfaction in it.
“Don’t need to scare anyone,” he said with a shrug. “Just need to make a point.”
A chill slid down Laurel’s spine. Every instinct screamed to move, to act, but she held her ground—barely.
He took another step forward. “Let me guess,” he said with a sneer. “You’re gonna try to talk me down? Make me see reason?”
She lifted her chin even as her chest burned from holding in the panic. “No,” she answered quietly. “I’m just waiting.”
His brow arched as confusion and amusement mixed in his eyes. “For what?”
Damned if she knew. Laurel was running on instinct and a boatload of adrenaline.
Suddenly, the front door slammed open behind him, the sound cracking through the shop like a gunshot. Laurel nearly jumped out of her skin.
The guy spun toward it, startled, but not fast enough.
A dark blur slammed into his side, knocking him off balance. The two men crashed into the folding table and chairs. The metal legs buckled instantly, sending both tumbling to the floor in a loud tangle of limbs and chair legs.
One of the folding chairs clattered sideways and bounced against the baseboards. The gas can spun out of reach. The gun hit the floor a second later and slid near the chair.
Laurel stumbled back, breath catching in her throat. For a split second, her brain couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing.
But then it did.
