Page 76 of Lay Down the Law

CHAPTER 13

Erin woke to panic. She felt it. Sensed it. Smelled it like gunpowder from a killing blast. Pulling the sheets up to cover herself, she sat bolt upright. “Nick?”

He stood amid the darkness on the opposite side of the room. In the sparse light slanting through the window, she could see he had on his slacks, no shirt, his cell phone pressed to his ear. A slow spiral of dread bored a hole right through her.

“When?” he snapped into the phone.

Erin rolled out of bed and began gathering her clothes. Good Lord, what was going on? Why was Nick on the phone? Why had he been shouting? She looked at her watch. It was just after midnight.

Nick cursed exorbitantly.

Even from across the room, Erin could hear him breathing. She stepped into her jeans, then tugged her T-shirt over her head. “Nick, what is it? What’s happened?”

“Oh, no,” he said into the darkness. “Oh, no. No!”

Erin flipped on the light. “Nick?”

Lowering the phone, he turned away from her and leaned against the dresser as if he suddenly no longer had the strength to support himself.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Her heart rolled over when he raised his head. His face was chalk-white. Sweat dampened his brow. She sensed danger, felt the violence coming off him in thick, choking waves.

She stepped back when his gaze met hers. In the depths of his eyes, she saw murder. Her heart began to pound.

“Steph and Mrs. T.,” he said hoarsely. “They never made it to Indianapolis.”

Confusion swirled for an instant—then the meaning behind his words struck her with the force of a freight train. “Oh, God. Oh, no.” She felt gut punched. Taking another step back, she pressed her hand to her stomach. “Please tell me they’re not—”

“Hector and Em are all right. The bastard has my little girl.”

Erin didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “DiCarlo?”

Without warning, he punched the dresser mirror. Glass shattered, spraying outward from the impact.

“Nick!”

“Why her, for God’s sake?” he snarled.

“Nick—”

“If he hurts her, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands.”

“Stop it. Please.”

“I’ve got to find her.”

Erin saw blood on his knuckles, fought back a crushing wave of panic. “Calm down—”

“DiCarlo crossed the line,” he said in a low, menacing voice.

She stared at him, wondering if he could hear the maniacal rhythm of her heart. “How did it happen?”

“A limo forced them off the road.”

“We’ll get her back.”

“I should have realized it would come to this.” His expression turned stricken and pale and as dangerous as a viper about to strike. “I should have been there for her. I wasn’t. Just like I wasn’t there for her the night of the accident.”