Echo’s sister isn’t moving, and I hope to fuck she’s not seriously hurt. It fills me with regret to not explain to Echo what’s happening in there, but she’s already worked up about Megan having her hands on Chase, and we need her head in this if we’re going to have a chance at getting everyone out of there.
Smith’s voice is low, his words a fast-paced jumble. “No. Come on, man. This has gone too far. I don’t want any part of whatever you’re planning to do.”
Brent walks over to him, cocking his head to the side like a snake deciding whether or not to strike. “Seriously? I don’t know what my little sister ever saw in you, you limp-dicked douche. You’ve already played a part in avenging Alicia’s death, same as us. How hard is that to understand?”
Smith’s face is pale as he looks back and forth between Brent and Brian. “Look. All I’ve done is write an ugly note on a motherfucking Post-it and leave a shitty message on her artwork. I tried to scare her, like you asked. But I’m done.”
“Are you saying you aren’t down with this?” Brian eyes him, a nasty glint in his eye.
Brent laughs. “You’re just like your twin. Freya was doing great with the texts and the photos of Echo’s parents. Everything went south when she didn’t want to kidnap the kid.” He sneers at Smith. “Your sister became a liability, so I got rid of her. You think I won't kill you, too? You’re pathetic. These people—they’re all linked to Royal in one way or another. We’re going to hurt all of them.”
I guess they didn’t believe Kara was telling them the truth about Royal not being the driver.
Smith lets out an anguished cry, his expression one of genuine shock. “Y-you killed my sister?”
Brian walks over and uses the butt of the gun to smack him upside the head without waiting for Brent to answer him. Smith goes down like a sack of potatoes as River screams, Chase cries, and Megan laughs, like this is some sort of comedy show she’s watching.
I gesture to the others with a quick hand signal.One down.
“Now”—Brian mutters, a disgusted look on his face—“would you please go fucking check out back?”
Brent’s voice is agitated when he grumbles, “If there’s a fucking bear out there?—”
We can’t afford to wait any longer. “Go,” I choke out, taking Echo’s hand in mine as I run for one side of the house while Royal and Beckham head around the other side. It’s like a game of Russian roulette. Which of us is going to have to deal with the asshole with the gun? Who’s going to take the bullet?
We creep along the side of the house, Echo’s hand gripping mine tightly, then pause to listen as we hear the door open and slam shut. Footsteps. They’re coming this way. I exhale, preparing myself for a fight. My heart thunders, but I’ve never been more ready. I turn to Echo, gripping her head in my hands. “I love you,” I rasp quietly, then slam my lips against hers. I hope she knows what she means to me. I point to a spot farther back, then mouth, “Crouch down. You stay there.”
Her lips pinch together but thank fuck she listens. Hurrying back, she squats down against the building while I move toward the sound of cautious footsteps—and the man who is about to come around the corner.
I flatten myself against the wall, clenching and unclenching my fists. My entire body is primed to strike.
The stupid motherfucker is hardly paying attention. Maybe he’s really expecting it to have been an animal that toppled the trash can. His mistake. He spots me as I step forward and deliver a punch that lands on the side of his head. The force of it travels up my arm like a shock wave. It’s a solid hit, and he hardly has time to register surprise or make a sound before he loses consciousness, his body falling limply to the ground. The gun lands with an ominous thud.
Echo is beside me in a second, whipping the belt from her jean shorts. “Here. Let’s use this.”
“Good call.” I give her an approving nod.
She gestures with a quick whisper. “Roll him to his stomach, it’s harder to get up when your hands are behind your back.”
“I don’t think he’s getting up anytime soon, but definitely.” I shove him over, yanking his arms behind him. Dude is out cold.
“Good.” Echo quickly fastens the belt tightly around his wrists while I hold them for her. No way is he getting them free, so even if he wakes up, he’ll have trouble maneuvering, definitely won’t be able to drive outta here if he tries to run.
I pick up the pistol, catching her eye. “Can you shoot a handgun?”
“Um. Yeah. If it comes down to it. Yes.”
I put the weapon on safe before handing it to her. “I want you to be able to protect yourself when we go in there. One of them comes at you, flip the safety off and pull the trigger. Don’t ask questions.”
She heaves out a breath. “Okay, but what about you?”
I grip the back of her neck and stamp another kiss to her mouth. Hurriedly, I rasp out, “I’d rather you have it.” Gesturing to the knocked-out asshole in the grass, I finish, “I’m a motherfucking weapon on my own.”
Wide-eyed, Echo nods and swallows hard as we stand up. “Did I hear him right?” she whispers. “He killed Freya and Zane?”
I nod. “Yep. Because she didn’t want to kidnap Chase.”
Before she has a chance to comment, raised voices from inside the cabin steal our attention. My chest tightens. Beckham and Royal have gone in.
