“You should have stayed working in the doctor’s office,” I mutter to her as I grab the gun, shoving it in her mouth when she tries to talk again. It takes everything in me not to pull the trigger. It’s more than she deserves, though—a quick, easy death. That thought alone is the only thing stopping me.
“You’re going to do what I say now. Don’t think I won’t kill you, because I’m begging for an excuse to watch the life leave those pretty eyes of yours right here and right now.”
Her eyes water and she makes high-pitched garbled sounds around the metal.
“Does that mean you’re going to be quiet when I take the gun out of your mouth?”
She nods, eyes bulging.
“Good.” I pull my hand back and she licks her lips.
“You really think you’re going to make it out of here alive? This thing is bigger than all of us in this building. They probably already have your name, so it doesn’t matter if you kill me, you’re a dead man either way.”
“Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not. And I don’t think they know about me, because that would mean they’re aware of your fuck up. Why else are you so quick to want to silence me?” I cock my head, kicking her foot. “Stand up.”
Looking behind her, she slowly gets to her feet and keeps her hands raised above her head. “You think Dan cares if you kill me? He doesn’t. He’ll probably do it for you and then shoot you next.”
“Oh, I’m hoping for it. Walk up the stairs and tell him everything’s okay.”
She moves one foot in front of the other, her steps picking up when I press the gun to her back. “Faster.”
When she reaches the top and is about to enter the house, I fire the gun, hitting the ceiling, and another shot goes off. Stacey’s body goes still and then she sways back and forth, crashing forward.
“What the fuck,” a deep voice says, footsteps quickly approaching me. As Officer Robinson lowers himself to Stacey’s convulsing body, I rush up the stairs and aim the gun at his head.
“Stay where you are.”
Laughing, his eyes flick up. “Mr. Pena. What do you think you’re going to do with that gun?”
“What I have to do if you keep moving,” I snap.
“Please.” He shakes his head, grinning wide. “You and I both know you’re not a killer. Stop wasting both our time and put the gun down.”
“No. You’re going to listen to me now.” I grip the gun tighter, aiming it at his head. “Get to your feet and walk down into the basement.”
He huffs out a laugh. “And what are you going to do? Call the cops?” He tsks. “Who do you think they’re going to believe when you’re the one who has me down there tied up and with your prints all over that gun? How do you think it’ll look when they find out you’ve been fucking the man who has your dead husband’s heart?” His lips tilt up and I want nothing more than to shoot that smile off his face.
“You don’t worry about that and just do what I ask,” I croak, not sounding as confident this time. He’s right. He’s a cop with the upper hand here, and me spending so much time with Silas lately might come off as suspicious to others on top of all the money Landon left me when he died. Fuck. I wanted these fuckers to pay so badly, I didn’t consider the consequences.
A loud crash startles us both and three men rush inside with bigger guns than mine. “Drop your weapon,” the taller man wearing a face covering says to me, and I lift my hands, letting the weapon slip from my fingers.
Officer Robinson laughs under his breath, and grabs the gun from beside my feet. He aims it at my leg and pulls the trigger, forcing a guttural groan from me. The pain nearly sends me to my knees. “About time you guys got here. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“Sorry, boss,” the one on his left says. “We had to take care of another problem at the other funeral home.”
“What problem?”
“It’s been taken care of, I can assure you. The product is now secure,” the third speaks up.
My gut twists at that and I get a bad taste in my mouth. Product. They’re more than likely referring to a human life and these people are nothing more than merchandise to them. Not fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters, sons, daughters, husbands, or wives. Just something to slap a price tag on and sell for a quick buck.
“Good. I’d hate for there to be another mishap so soon,” Officer Robinson says, turning his eyes back to me. “Now we need to take care of him. He’s been a real thorn in my side.”
“What would you like us to do with him?” the taller one asks.
“Get him to the operating room and help the doc secure him to the table. Doc will be able to get the job done quicker with him knocked out.”
“And her?” the same guy asks, glancing down at Stacey, who’s clutching at her chest and making gurgling sounds.
