Page 143 of Weight of Guilt

Nash glanced at Wren.

Her eyes met his.

His gaze flicked to the cabinet and then back to her.

He didn’t know if she understood what he was about to do.

He hoped she understood one thing.

Run.

Just as he passed the cabinet, Nash hooked his hand around the side and yanked.

Jacob’s eyes widened.

The cabinet groaned and then tipped. China slid from the shelves. Then the whole thing crashed between them with an explosion of splintering wood and breaking dishes.

Wren tugged Mason out of the way.

Jacob threw himself backward to avoid the collision.

That was all Nash needed. He lunged toward Jacob.

Nash’s hand closed around Jacob’s gun wrist before Jacob could recover.

The weapon jerked to the side.

Jacob slammed into him hard, driving Nash backward into the wall.

Pain shot through his injured knee. Nash ignored it.

“Run!” he shouted.

Wren grabbed Mason and bolted toward the broken front door, shattered dishes crunching under their shoes.

Jacob twisted violently, trying to wrench the gun free.

Nash drove his shoulder into Jacob’s chest.

They hit the floor, the gun trapped between them.

There was so much more to this story. They needed Jacob alive.

Jacob grunted, shards from the dishes probably cutting into his back. Then he brought his free fist into Nash’s face.

Pain burst across his cheek.

Nash tightened his grip. “Let go.”

Jacob laughed once, breathless and wild. “You first.”

He bucked hard.

Nash’s knee screamed as he shifted his weight.

For one second, his grip slipped. Jacob took advantage.

He rolled, dragging Nash with him. The barrel swung toward the doorway.