Gordon nodded. “Six-inch barrels, all of them.”
“We need to make sure he doesn’t have time to reload.” Julian was looking at his brothers as he spoke.
“I glimpsed movement just before the shot.” Melissa also spoke loudly enough for Felix and Damian to hear. “I think he’s behind the largest tree over there.” She pointed over her head toward the other side of the clearing, beyond the woodpile at their backs.
Damian and Felix were searching. “Yes, he’s there,” Felix reported.
“Whatever happens,” Julian said to Melissa, “stay here.” He made the words more like an order than he ever had. He caught his brothers’ gazes and nodded, then raised his head and called, “Really, Captain, how on earth do you think you’ll get out of this? We’ve seen you, and you don’t have enough pistols to kill all of us, even if you could shoot true.”
“Who says I need pistols to kill?”
“Correct me if I err, but thus far, despite all your attempts, including that effort just minutes ago, you’ve singularly failed to kill anyone. Am I right?”
The man laughed, a chilling sound. “You might lead a damned charmed life, Carsely, but luck runs out for everyone eventually.”
“Really? In that case, I suppose the question we face at this juncture is whose luck will run out first, yours or ours?”
“Funny. I believe I’m the man with the pistols, and you’re all cowering.”
Julian didn’t correct him. As he’d hoped, in focusing on verbally sparring with him, Findlay-Wright hadn’t noticed Felix and Damian slipping away through the trees. Felix had gone one way, Damian the other.
Julian laughed. His years of experience negotiating allowed him to make the sound convincingly contemptuous. “You fool yourself, Captain. After all, how many attempts have you made? All have failed.”
Julian looked at Melissa, put his finger to his lips, then waved that finger, indicating that they should swap places.
She frowned, but did as he asked.
In a crouch, he crept toward the end of the woodpile. Resuming his contemptuous taunting, he snidely said, “On what grounds do you imagine your luck will change?”
“Show yourself, and we’ll see, shall we?”
Julian leapt up. “All right.” Immediately, he ducked.
Crack!
As he’d hoped, the unexpected movement, not quite where Findlay-Wright had been focusing, had made him squeeze off another shot. This one had gone winging into the woods.
Melissa had scrabbled closer. She fisted both hands in his lapels and, with surprising strength, hauled him to her. “Have you lost your mind!” she hissed.
He smiled reassuringly and patted her shoulder. “He missed me, too.”
She held his gaze for an instant, then let out an explosive sigh and buried her head in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, lifted his head, and called, “What happened then, Captain? Dust in your eye?”
From the corner of his eye, Julian saw movement farther around the clearing. Silently, Felix stepped out from the tree line, hurled a large pine cone toward Findlay-Wright, then smartly stepped back into the cover of the trees.
Crack!
Julian stared, then saw Felix moving stealthily deeper into the wood. He exhaled. “Felix wasn’t hit, either.”
Melissa had lifted her head at the sounds. She looked at him. “That’s three shots. Are we sure he has only one left?”
On her other side, Gordon muttered, “Only one way to find out.” With no further warning, he hurled himself out from behind the pile in a headlong dash for the woods.
Crack!
Gordon dove into the bushes. A second later, Julian saw him lift his head and look toward where Findlay-Wright was hiding. Slowly, Gordon rose to his feet, an expression of determination stamped over his features. Eyes narrowed, he stared into the trees.
Then Gordon yelled, “He’s out of guns!” and charged across the clearing.
