“I’m doing great,” Randy continued. “Been busy with my clients. Sold a house already. I’m on my way to becoming a superstar realtor.”
Damn liar. Providence’s blood boiled, but she remained still.
Then, he grew silent for several long seconds and Providence peeked to see what he was doing.
He leaned close and his stale breath warmed her cheek. “I like living in your house. I like spending Providence’s money, and I’m about to become a millionaire. A goddamn millionaire. Can you fucking believe that? I’m going to kill you, then I’m going to kill my stepdaddy. Gordon Fucking Sharpe. Brainless nitwit that he is.”
She forced herself to take a slow, calming breath, but she wanted to take the son of a bitch down.
“I’m going to finish you off.” When he removed the cap from the secondary IV line and attach the syringe, she flinched.
“Easy does it, Mom. I’m injecting nicotine directly into your vein. This isn’t sweet like the others. This is tasteless, odorless, and colorless. It’s the perfect poison. Poor Mommy, the past few months have been hell for you. Except when Lizzie and I went sailing. Imagine how pissed I was to find you feeling better when we got back.”
Providence wanted to unleash her hatred on him for everything he’d done to her family, to Dakota’s family, to Matt Hastings, and to the countless others he’d hurt. But she remained motionless, playing the part of her dying mother.
He stood and peered down at her. “Goodbye, Mother.”
And with that, he headed toward the door. Providence pushed out of bed and ripped off the drainage line. Beeker blocked his exit, his weapon pointed at Randy. Dakota stepped out of the bathroom shadows.
“You’re under arrest,” Beeker said.
Rather than stopping, Randy charged Beeker. The two struggled in the corridor as he went for Beeker’s weapon. Dakota strode forward, grabbed Randy, and yanked him away.
Randy pointed Beeker’s gun at Dakota’s head.
With lightning speed, Dakota grabbed the Glock, spun Randy around, and put him in a choke hold while he pressed the barrel of the gun to Randy’s temple. Dakota was breathing hard and his eyes were wild. “I could end this in two fucking seconds,” he growled. “And there’s nothing I’d like more.”
Beeker grabbed the gun from Dakota, while the other officers stood there, their weapons aimed at Randy.
“Randy Maddox, you’re under arrest for the murder of Matthew Hastings,” Beeker said. “And for the attempted murder of Heather Sharpe.”
Dakota shoved him away. Gasping for breath, Randy clutched his throat. One of Beeker’s guys pulled Randy’s hands behind his back and cuffed him.
“I loved killing your dad,” Randy bit out.
Hatred filled Dakota’s eyes and his jaw muscles ticked again and again.
“I went to prison because of you.” Randy sneered at him. “This isn’t over, Dakota. You better keep a close eye on that sweet little girl of yours.”
Dakota’s rocking right cross to the jaw sent Randy to the floor.
“Whoa,” Beeker said, moving Dakota away.
“I’m gonna press charges,” Randy said. “You assaulted me and I’ve got witnesses.”
“Fuck you,” Dakota bit out.
“Sis, you disappoint me,” Randy said. “You’ve aligned with the enemy. And now, I’ve got you in my crosshairs. Bang, bang, you’re dead, too.” An eerie grin spread over his face. He threw his head back and laughed, his shrill cackle heard down the corridor as the officers led him away.
“Go pick up his wife,” Beeker said to the two officers who stayed behind. “Try the house.”
When they left, Beeker glanced from Dakota to Providence. “Anyone hurt?”
“Motherfucker,” Dakota growled, flexing his hand. “I’m fine.”
Providence studied him. Rage shone in his eyes, his nostrils were flared, and his stance screamed aggressor. He was not fine.
Providence stroked Dakota’s back. “I’m good.”
